23. Wyatt
23
WYATT
I half-expected our return home to also return us to how we were pre-honeymoon. For Matthias to withdraw into his work. To sleep away from me. To pretend I didn’t exist. The negative part of my brain refused to acknowledge that it would be different, that maybe, just for a little while, we could be happy. That this doesn’t have to be several months of torture while we’re stuck in this marriage together. That we can work together to make this easy, or even pleasurable.
Really pleasurable.
Thoughts of Matthias on his knees, begging for it while I take him from behind filtered through my mind as I waited on pins and needles for us to return to the way we were. For Matthias to pull away. For my defenses to go up. For our insane chemistry to disappear now that we’d returned to the real world.
I’d never been so happy to be proven wrong.
A month later, and everything is better than I could’ve hoped. We exist in a bubble where little interrupts us. Sure, Matthias has to leave me every day to go to work and I’m left to wander the expansive house, working on my garden and conversing with Corbin. It’s fine. Matthias and I can’t spend all our time exploring each other’s bodies.
But we make up for it at night. I don’t remember the last time either of us got more than a few hours of rest. It’s like we’re making up for lost time. All those years…wasted, when we could have been together. Maybe if I’d kissed him as a teenager, I never would have ended up losing him.
The look in Matthias’s eyes as I press my lips to his, the sounds he makes…
Maybe this desperation we feel for one another is a way to hoard memories for when this inevitably ends—when we have to walk away from each other. I don’t know about Matt, but I’ve become a man obsessed. I want to soak up as much of him as I can.
Because, in a few months’ time, I’ll be alone at night again. I won’t have Matthias to keep me warm.
Just the memories of him.
The bags under Matthias’s eyes aren’t dissipating either. I’m not sure how he’s functioning on so little sleep. At least I can nap during the day. If I wasn’t able to do that, I’d be on my knees otherwise.
I end up on them most nights anyway, but not because of exhaustion. Apparently I’ve developed quite the addiction to sucking Matt’s cock.
No, that’s not entirely right. It’s more the sense of power that I’m addicted to. Looking up at him from my knees, the rush that follows when I see his head thrown back. The veins in his neck bulging, his full lips parting on my name. My hands cupping his ass, forcing him deeper before he’s ready. The way he cries out at the way I take him.
How he trembles when he falls apart.
That’s my addiction.
Without discussing it, almost as if we were made for this, we’ve fallen into a routine. Every morning, Matt sets his alarm an hour earlier than he needs to be up. That started happening after he was late to work three days in a row. It’s his fault really. His ass is delicious. The way I woke him up by entering him slowly was one for the books.
That third day he was so late because his mouth had been stretched around my cock, and unfortunately, his brother Samson had barged in to see what’d been keeping him so long.
I wasn’t sure who was more horrified—me or Samson. That wasn’t the emotion Matthias had demonstrated. That’d been pure anger. The dagger came out from under his pillow and everything. He stalked up to his brother and held the pointy end up to his throat.
“Don’t interrupt my time with him.”
Samson just rolled his eyes and suggested we set alarms if we intended to fuck around before Matthias had work. I’d sat there trying to process all of it, my naked body covered by the sheet.
I’m still not sure why Matthias feels the need to sleep with a weapon under his pillow. Or why the property has guards, or why there are cameras covering every inch of the house. When I originally moved in with him, I just wrote it off to his extreme wealth. Everyone knows the Buckinghams own the city. Their power is exceeded only by that of The Firm.
Matthias sleeping with a dagger, though? That doesn’t make sense to me. I know I should bring it up. I’d almost forgotten about it because while we were on our honeymoon he didn’t have one. But one night after arriving home, my hand slipped under his pillow and I felt the sting of the blade graze my finger.
Like I said, I should bring it up, but I haven’t.
I’ve added it to the long list of things we should probably talk about. Things that haunt me during the hours I’m apart from Matthias, my fingers deep in the dirt, the rain hitting my skin.
Why did he set me up that night?
How did he even get wrapped up with that dealer in the first place?
If he had feelings for me back then, why didn’t he tell me?
Why did he ghost me?
Why didn’t he send me away when he realized I was the one The Firm had decided he’d marry?
Why is this inheritance so important if he’s already richer than Croesus?
What’s happening between us?
Are we really going to walk away from each other when our contract is up?
The issue with asking any of these questions is it’ll upset the careful balance we’ve established. It’s been a tentative truce, set up on a foundation of everything we aren’t saying.
One wrong question, one truth, and the whole thing could come tumbling down.
Selfishly, I’m not ready for that to happen yet. I’m happier now than I’ve been in years. And it’s not just because of the sex. Obviously, that’s a huge plus, but that’s not all of it.
It’s spending time with Matt, my long-lost friend. Teasing him to make him smile. Talking about trivial matters interspersed with the universe’s grand questions. Everything big and small, there’s nothing we don’t talk about.
Nothing except everything we should talk about.
I’m happy living in denial though. Future me can deal with everything. Right now, I’m being selfish. For the first time in a long time, I’m putting myself first.
Matthias appears to be doing the same…for the most part. There are moments when I catch him watching me intensely, often when the moonlight bathes our sweat-slicked skin. I can almost hear the words on his lips, the hesitant breath before he decides to set us on the road to truth that could end us.
I silence him with a kiss every time. I steal that moment from him.
Selfishly, I consume it.
I’m not ready.
Taking Samson’s advice, we wake every morning now with plenty of time for orgasms before Matthias has to leave for the office. Sometimes we don’t even do that, too busy exchanging quiet whispers and cuddles. Matthias really has the best chest to snuggle on.
We shower together before finally making it down to breakfast. I no longer pretend strawberries aren’t my favorite. In fact, I barely notice what Jules puts in front of me these days.
I’m too busy devouring Matthias with my eyes. The way his fingers curl around the spoon, the way his tongue licks across the fork.
The way I study him.
While he’s in the office, I spend my time in the gardens. Thanks to Corbin’s guidance, it’s flourishing. Jules is thrilled with the fresh vegetables I’ve been providing him with.
In the evenings, I lounge in our bed, waiting for Matthias to return. It’s when I catch up on my sleep.
But first, I always make sure to call my brother.
“There’s so much space outside, but I’m thinking of getting a couple of hydroponic garden systems.” I’m on a video call with him and filling him in on the progress I’ve been making.
Jackson’s lips quirk in amusement. “What the fuck is a hydro-thingy garden?”
“It’s a water-based nutrient solution, instead of soil,” I explain enthusiastically. “Means you can grow plants indoors even in smaller spaces. That way we can keep growing things over winter too.”
“What’s the point?”
I roll my eyes. “So we can have produce year-round, obviously.”
Jackson rolls his right back. “Yeah, but you’ll be leaving in March, right? Isn’t that the plan?”
I falter as the reality of the situation hits me. “Well, yes, but just because I’m not here… Matthias can keep growing things.”
“Has he shown literally any interest in it?”
“Yes,” I say hotly. “He’s very interested in whatever I have to tell him.”
“Maybe it’s because it’s you talking,” Jackson says, his face serious on the screen. “I doubt he actually cares about the garden. He cares about what you care about.”
I glare at my younger brother. God, I miss the days when he believed the sun shone out of my ass. Seeing how low I fell while trying, and failing, to care for him, those days are long gone. “What’s your point, Jackson?”
He shrugs. “Just…I thought this whole thing between you was fake. That you’re just pretending to be husbands.”
“It is. We are.”
Liar, my heart whispers. It’s more than that.
Jackson doesn’t buy it. “Sure. Fake husbands who went on a two-week honeymoon. Who sleep in the same bed every night. A temporary home where you’re planning a year-round fucking garden.”
I sit up and scowl, my face turning red. “You don’t know anything, you little shit.”
“I know that’s a hickey on your neck,” he drawls. “So I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’re also fucking him.”
I curse, slapping my hand over it. “That’s not a hickey. And how would you know what one looks like?”
“I’m a man.”
“You’re a child.”
He rolls his eyes and then stares at me for so long I start to squirm.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I murmur.
“Mm-hmm.” Jackson doesn’t believe me. That’s fair. I’m not sure I believe myself. “Would it matter if it did mean something?”
“Enough,” I say gruffly. “You don’t have the right to ask me these questions, Jackson. Since when have you gotten so mature?”
“I think you missed me growing up. I think I had to after the accident, but enough about me. Wyatt, do you think I’m overstepping? Or are you not answering my questions because you’re scared of the answers?”
I swallow hard, my throat clicking. “How about I not answer that and you tell me how rehab’s going.”
Jackson sighs and runs a hand through his messy hair. I don’t meet his eyes on the screen, not wanting to see the disappointment lingering there.
I’ve seen enough of that to last me a lifetime. I know I fucked up after his accident. I know I’ve made so many mistakes. And I think doing this with Matthias may end up being one as well.
But I can’t admit that. Not now. Not yet.
After a long pause, Jackson fills me in on the progress he’s been making, how good the program is, how he’s already gained weight and built muscle. He’s on track to be back home with us in three weeks.
No.
Not home.
And there is no us.
I have to remember that.
* * *
“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” I ask Matt.
He’s standing behind me while I check my reflection in the mirror. My jeans and dark gray Henley look good on me. My body, over the past few weeks, has filled out and with the help of plenty of time during the day, healthy food, and an in-home gym, I’m back to my usual self. My muscles have become more toned and I look more in shape.
My hands move up to my hair and I brush away a loose strand. I don’t give a shit about looking good for the other Buckinghams. I just care about what Matthias thinks. I never want him to be embarrassed of me. “I don’t mind staying here while you hang out with them.”
The game night at the Buckingham Manor is finally dragging us out of our little bubble, and I’m feeling resentful and a little nervous. I just want to spend my night with Matthias. Alone.
Plus, “game night” and “manor house” don’t really go together in my head, but apparently it’s something Matt’s siblings do every month. He skipped out on the last one because we were on our honeymoon. But now he tells me he can’t miss it.
I don’t believe it. But I say nothing, not wanting to rock the delicate balance we have between us.
“If I have to suffer through Monopoly with Samson, then so do you,” Matt says, coming up behind me and pressing a kiss to my neck. “Just watch your money carefully. Dalton cheats.”
“Just Dalton?”
Matthias smirks at me in the mirror. “Oh no. Several of them do, but he’s the only one you haven’t got a chance of catching red-handed.”
I twist in his arms to press a kiss to his mouth, my fingers curling into his nicely pressed shirt. I know it’s going to be wrinkled from this, but still, I linger for a second. My tongue toys with his and I feel his cock perk up between his legs before I reluctantly pull away. “What about you? Do you cheat?”
“Me?” Matt huffs in mock annoyance. “Never. I’m a man of honor.”
I chuckle, but the sound fades away as the reminder of our past slinks into the room. I’ve gotten good at shoving it through doorways, closing the curtains, and turning out the lights, but occasionally it creeps back in when I’m not paying attention. A cunning shadow silently haunting us.
“What’s wrong?” Matthias’s brows dip, concern lighting up those dark eyes. “Wy? Tell me.”
I paste on a smile. “Nothing. I’m just worried that you may break your code of honor tonight because I have a feeling you’ll cheat to one-up your brothers.”
“I may know all their tells.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“Really?” he asks, looking slightly worried. “You sure?”
I twine my fingers with his. “Yeah. I am. Come on, let’s go see how wild game night at the Buckinghams’ can be.”
* * *
Matt gets quieter and quieter on the drive to Wylder’s. As the eldest brother, he’s the one who inherited the home they all grew up in. I wonder what it looks like. I’m curious to finally see the house where Matthias lived as a child. Not once did he ever invite me there. At the time, I’d thought maybe he was ashamed of me.
Knowing the little I know now about his dad…I don’t think it was me he was embarrassed about.
We pass by the woods where we spent our summers. I don’t look out the window. I’m too afraid of what I’ll see. The ghosts of our past that might be running through the trees—full of hope.
With no idea of the pain that would follow.
Instead, I focus on Matt. His fingers are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whiten.
“Hey, are you nervous? I’ve met your family, remember? I think it will be fine.”
He huffs loudly. “No. You’ve met their public personas.” His fingers flex around the wheel, an audible squeak resounding through the cab. “Their personal ones are very different.”
I shift so I can see him a little better. “Okay, well, how has it gone taking other men to this kind of thing?”
A knuckle cracks loudly. “It hasn’t.”
“Wait. What does that mean?”
Matthias pulls through a set of wrought iron gates as equally grand as the ones that stand at our…his house. More armed guards stand there too. They wave us past without blinking. “It means you’re the first.”
I pretend that this doesn’t mean anything, keeping my heart in its protective cage. The place it needs to fucking stay if I have a hope of getting through this unscathed. And yet still, it beats loudly, frantically.
The first. I’m his first.
“Your first, huh?” I say, jokingly. “How exciting.”
He drives up in front of what can only be described as a mansion and turns off the engine. I stare at the elaborate front door for a moment until my eyes swivel to several other expensive cars around us. Bugattis and a Rolls-Royce. And there’s a car I’ve never heard of. Shit. Seems like we’re some of the last ones here. “Yeah,” Matthias says lowly. “You’re my first.”
There’s no joke in his voice. Not a drop of sarcasm, and for a moment my mind starts to stutter. “Wait, what? Fuck, Matt, were you a virgin when we hooked up?”
“Fuck no,” he says with a loud laugh, my question shocking him from his dark mood. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Good. Don’t scare me like that.”
“I promise to try not to. Now, come on, the others are waiting for us.”
Sure enough, a figure is hanging out of an upstairs window. Dalton, judging by the slicked-back hair, his smile wide and mischievous.
“Yo! Hottie with the body! Get in here.”
“Stop calling him that,” Matthias calls back. “Or I’ll slit your throat.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Dalton replies.
I step out of the car, waving at Dalton while simultaneously wondering what Matthias meant when he stated that I wasn’t his first sexual partner. I’m too caught up on it. I should feel relieved that he wasn’t a virgin, but I’m not.
I’m…upset. Which makes no fucking sense. Of course Matthias has been with other men. He’s the same age as me. I doubt he’s lived as a saint all this time.
So why does the picture of him with other men make me want to shove over one of these oversized and undoubtedly overpriced vases?
I mean, seriously, who the fuck has six-foot-tall vases outside their front door? A door, I might add, that requires you to walk up eight steps to get to it.
Wylder Buckingham, apparently. Or I guess his father.
I trail after Matt up the steps and touch the large vases. They don’t budge. Even if I tried to knock it over, I would probably look ridiculous huffing and puffing, trying to send it sideways. It’s a good thing I don’t. I’d never live it down.
Matthias peers over his shoulder at me. “You admiring the porch art?”
“This isn’t art. This is ridiculous.”
“Hm, don’t tell Wylder that. He loves these. Had them delivered from Florence.”
With that, Matthias walks right into the house, doesn’t knock, just turns the handle as if he belongs here. Which he does, I suppose. It’s his family home. It’s where he grew up, spent countless hours with his siblings.
And somewhere not far from here, he spent time outdoors—with me. So many memories out there, so many dreams.
As I step over the threshold, my eyes widen, not sure what to look at first. Matthias’s house has a lobby, but nothing like this. Is that a crystal chandelier hanging above us, and a water feature against the opposite wall? I’m not an art buff, but I’d bet my last penny that the masterpieces on every wall are originals.
I stare down at my worn shoes and my discount jeans. There’s no way I fit in here. The gala was bad enough, but at least that was an environment I’d been used to in my professional life. Plus then, I’d been dressed for the occasion.
I tug at the neck of my shirt self-consciously. “Jesus, Matt. Could you have given me a heads-up?”
“What?” He glances over his shoulder, noticing how I’m fidgeting. “You look fine, Wy.”
“Fine?” I hiss. “I wear these sneakers to garden for fuck’s sake.”
Matt turns with a sigh and comes to wrap his arms around me. “Mm, yes, but you’re gorgeous, so I don’t know why you’re upset.”
My cheeks redden. They always do when he compliments me. “I’m not. Stop it.”
He kisses one of my cheeks. “But you are. You’re. So. Hot.” His lips move to the other cheek. “And beautiful.” His mouth meets mine. “And so fucking sexy that I’m thinking of taking you back home right now.”
From the bulge now pressing against his, that’s an idea I can get on board with.
“Stop fucking canoodling.” I’m not sure which brother bellows or where in the house he is, but apparently, they all know what we’re up to. “Monopoly waits for no man. Or fuck. Really, it waits for no one and no thing.”
Matthias leans his forehead against mine and groans. “Remember, whatever happens tonight, you’re legally tied to me until March.”
Another brother hollers his name, and he turns to walk toward them.
Me, though? I’m frozen. Matthias’s final word makes my feet sprout roots that tunnel deep underground.
March.
Fuck. Normally it’s me reminding Matt that we have an end date, that we can’t muddle what we have with emotions.
Hearing him say it?
I don’t fucking like it.
I don’t like it one bit.
Question is, what am I going to do about it?