Chapter 20
twenty
. . .
Savannah
I fell forward, completely sated. My body felt like it was floating on air. Hayes maneuvered me like I weighed nothing, adjusting my body so I settled against him, my head on his chest.
Both of us were still panting. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, keeping me close.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
I pushed up onto my elbow to look at him. “Oh. My. Holy. Husband. We should have gotten fake married years ago.”
His lips turned up in the corners. When Hayes smiled, there was something extra sexy about it. He didn’t offer this to everyone, and you knew when he smiled at you that you were lucky. “That’s the last time you call this fake, and I won’t remind you again, woman.”
My head tipped back in a chuckle. “Fine. Whatever we’re doing, we should have done it years ago.”
“You like my tongue on your puss—” he said, and I covered his mouth with my hand.
“You have the filthiest mouth, Woody. You’re very… skilled.”
“Wait till you see what I can do with my dick.” He tugged me back down to lie on his chest.
“Well, the good news is that I was all worried about us staying in the same room, but this feels like a win-win. We pretend to be married, act like a real couple in every way, and give each other epic orgasms. It doesn’t get much better than this.”
“Careful, Shortcake. Don’t get too caught up in the orgasms, or you might fall in love with me.”
“Pfft… please. You’re the one who had a crush on me when we were teenagers.
And that intense growl of pleasure that escaped your mouth just a few minutes ago tells me that I know how to please my man.
So, you’re the one who needs to be careful,” I said, my tone laced with humor.
“And I know an unattainable man when I see one. Why do you think I was willing to do this whole marriage thing with you?”
“Why?”
“Well, there’s no risk of anyone getting hurt. You haven’t had a relationship since the heathen. That’s a long time to be single.”
He gripped my hair and turned my head so I was looking at him. “And what’s your story? I don’t see you with a boyfriend.”
“Correct. I’m a girl with abandonment issues.
My mother left my father and me for her lover, and she has a new family with him.
And sure, we are all on good terms now, but that doesn’t mean I forgot those painful years.
Also, I thought my lifelong best friend betrayed me in the worst way, up until finding out recently that none of that was real.
But those are some deep-rooted fears I have now.
Obviously, I can’t date a man who has commitment issues.
So, yeah, I’ve been single for a long time, not because I don’t want to get married, but because it needs to be the right man.
A guy who makes me feel safe, but challenged and loved, as well. ”
“Wow. You’ve put a lot of thought into this whole relationship thing, yet you agreed to marry me in all of fifteen minutes in River’s office, knowing what a horrible husband I would make?”
Why did he sound so wounded?
“My husband is such a caveman,” I said with a laugh. “You’ve got such a tender heart beneath that very impressive body of yours.”
“My heart is not tender, and stop evading the question.”
“Yes. I’ve put a lot of thought into what I want.
I will not be in a relationship like my parents had.
I will not hitch my cart to a man who doesn’t want me.
I know how that story ends. And I’ve always wanted a big family because I hated being an only child, and a loveless marriage sucks for the kids.
So, my children will live in a home that’s filled with love.
Safe and happy with lots of laughter and parents who are nauseatingly in love.
That’s probably why Abe put that ridiculous stipulation in the will. ”
“Why?”
“Because he thought I was being too picky.”
“How often do you date?” he asked, his gaze filled with curiosity.
“Usually three times a week.”
His eyes widened. “Three times a fucking week? Different dudes?”
“Yes. I live in the city. There are a ton of prospects. And guys swipe right a lot on me for some reason.”
“Of course, they do. Look at you.” He shifted me off of him and pushed to his feet, storming around the bed to get his briefs. I sat forward, pulling the covers over myself as I took in his toned ass before he covered it.
I was laughing again. “You sound jealous.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you just date them once? No repeat dates?”
I rolled my eyes, unsure of why we were talking about this, but Hayes and I had always talked about everything.
“Usually once. I don’t let them pick me up.
We normally meet at a restaurant for dinner or happy hour.
Occasionally, I get asked to go to a football or a hockey game. But I always drive my own car.”
“The piece-of-shit clunker you call a car?” he grumped.
“Don’t insult Big Red. You sound jealous of a car now, too, and it’s unbecoming.” I smiled, and his mouth twitched. “That’s usually it. I think I did a second date with two guys over the last year, and the rest have all been one and done.”
“I thought you said you haven’t had sex in a while?” he pressed, because he was clearly a nosy bastard.
“I haven’t. My last serious relationship was two years ago. Haven’t been with anyone since.”
He gaped at me. “What about your five million dates? You didn’t sleep with one of them?”
“No. I’m not having sex with someone that I don’t think I’d actually date. So the one and dones get a kiss, if they’re lucky.” I shrugged.
“Poor bastards.” He chuckled, but for whatever reason, he looked thrilled by the news. Like he enjoyed the idea of me torturing these men. “What about the two dudes who got second dates?”
“They got a good make-out sesh. A little under-the-sweater action. That’s it.”
“Yet you let me give you two orgasms and go down on you?” He quirked a brow.
“You’re my husband.” I sighed. “Listen, don’t question the rules. I make them up as I go. But since we’re being so open about things, how often do you date?”
“I don’t. I go to a bar and leave with a woman. There’s no make-out sesh or whatever the fuck you called it. If I go to her home, we usually fuck. Aside from Trish Windsor, who crossed a line, so I got the fuck out of there.”
“What did she do?”
“She tried to cuff me to her bed.”
“And you didn’t like that?” I asked, completely mesmerized by the conversation.
“I don’t get cuffed. I’d be happy to tie up a woman if that was her thing, but I’m not trusting some woman I barely know to lock me to her bed. What if she never uncuffs me? Makes me her sex prisoner? Not fucking happening.”
My head fell back in laughter. “I can’t believe she wanted to cuff you to her bed. And why do you always go to the woman’s house? You don’t bring ladies here?”
“No. Because if I’m already at home, I can’t leave if I need the night to end.”
“Yet you’ve agreed to me sleeping in your bed for the next few months.”
“You’re my wife.” He quirked a brow. “And two years is a long time to go without sex, Shortcake. If you need me to remedy that for you, just say the word.”
“I mean, we should consummate this marriage eventually, right?” I crawled across the mattress and found my clothing, pulling my jammies back on. This had been an eventful evening, and I should probably pump the brakes.
He climbed back onto the bed and patted his hand against the mattress beside him.
“How about this? We take it one day at a time. If you want me to bury my face between your thighs every fucking morning and every fucking night and do nothing more, I’d be a very content husband with that arrangement.
We don’t ever have to have sex if it complicates things for you. ”
“Damn. I don’t want to be cocky, but I feel like I must have one magical vagina covered in pixie dust if you’re willing to… go downtown every single day until I divorce you and get back to the single life.”
“No doubt about it. You’ve got an award-winning pussy, Shortcake.”
We were both laughing hysterically now, and I rolled onto my side to face him. Just the way we’d started before all the orgasms.
It was quiet now, and the room was dark.
“I missed you, Hayes,” I said the words so softly I wasn’t sure he’d even heard me.
But then he tugged me closer, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed the top of my head.
He’d definitely heard me.
And I knew he missed me, too.
Exhaustion took me, and I slept for what felt like days, but in reality, I woke with the sun the following morning.
I stretched my arms over my head and blinked a few times as I processed where I was.
I sprung forward and looked beside me. No Hayes. Had he freaked out after what happened between us?
I padded to the bathroom to brush my teeth, tied my hair in a messy knot on top of my head, and made my way down the hallway toward the kitchen and family room.
“Husband? Are you up?” I called out when I heard the sound of pots and pans moving in the kitchen.
“I am. I’ve already worked out, and now I’m scrambling us some eggs.” He stood at the stovetop, his back to me, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt.
Damn. This man’s body could be a piece of artwork.
He glanced over his shoulder and smirked, like he knew what I was doing.
I moved around him and reached for a coffee mug in the cabinet, and I could feel his eyes on me.
My husband and I were playing a dangerous game of attraction.
I filled my mug with coffee and topped his off as it sat on the counter beside him. And then I intentionally brushed my body against his as I walked past.
“You know you can use your words and ask for what you want,” he said, as he plated the eggs.
“What are you talking about?” I pulled out the barstool and sat down, and he took the seat beside mine, setting both plates in front of us.
“I’m just saying, we’re married. If we want something, all we have to do is ask for it. Marriage is about pleasing your partner, right?”