I swing the door open and take in the man before me. He’s leaning on the door frame. His dark hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it more than a few times. He’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs that outline his cock. My eyes dip to his bulge and his leg tattoo, and I bite my lip.
“I’m up here.” He chuckles, his lips tipping upward on one side.
Focus. Now is not the time. Where was I? Right. What’s going on? Is this a dream or…
“Do you think we’re dead?” I blurt out. My eyes finding his.
“I hope not,” he says, shrugging.
A small smile ghosts my lips as I breathe out a laugh. Moving past him, I walk back into the bedroom and scan for any more clues, but it just looks like a regular bedroom.
A large king-size bed, with a snow-white velvet tufted headboard, sits in the middle of the room covered with plush white and pink bedding. It’s framed by two large mirrored bedside tables. Each is adorned with a crystal lamp and a rose gold-framed photo of me and Everett—memories that don’t exist because, despite the rings on our hands, we aren’t really married. None of this is real. It can’t be.
“We should get dressed,” I say, turning to find him leaned up against the door frame, watching me. “It’s freezing.”
“Really? I was thinking we could just stay in our underwear all day and take advantage of being here alone. Think about it,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows and pushing off the wall. “No one knows we’re here, which means we don’t have any responsibilities for the first time in a long time. We could repeat last night as many times as we wanted and never be interrupted.” The side of his mouth tips into a sexy grin.
“How do you know no one knows we’re here?”
“I can’t get a hold of anyone back in New York, and according to my phone, my location can’t be found. You?”
“Yeah, it goes straight to voicemail and none of the texts will deliver. My map won’t even load.”
“See, so we could just hold up in bed until everything goes back to normal.”
Fucking men.I shake my head and pinch my brow together.
“No, we have to figure out what’s going on. This isn’t some vacation from our lives. We went to sleep in New York last night and woke up,married,in a place neither of us has ever seen before. We can’t just pretend like nothing weird is happening.”
“What if it was the sex. Maybe if we try doing it again, it’ll transport us back to New York.”
“Glad to see you are as unbearable as before,” I deadpan.
Walking past him into the large closet off the bedroom, I’m met with women’s clothes that aren’t mine. Gosh, this version of me owns a lot of ballet pink. “I think this goes without saying, but I don’t think it was the sex,” I say, grabbing a chunky, knitted sweater from a shelf and pulling it over my head.
“You don’t know that,” he yells from somewhere else in the house.
“Yes, I do,” I shout back.
Quickly locating a pair of jeans, I tug them on and then slide my feet into a pair offleece-lined boots.
I walk out to find Everett also fully clothed.
“I don’t know—we were always pretty magical together.” His mouth curls into a one-sided grin.
This. This is why we didn’t work before. How could I forget how incredibly cocky he was and apparently still is.
My eyes rake down his body, taking him in. He’s wearing a taupe turtleneck sweater and black jeans. The sweater is practically painted on him, highlighting every cut line on his sculpted body, and if we weren’t in the middle of a total crisis and he wasn’t being one hundred kinds of annoying, I’d peel it off of him.
Forcibly closing my mouth, I do my best to divert my gaze away from him.
“You don’t like my outfit?”
“No…um…no…it’s,” I stammer.
“Words, Sugar.” He smirks.
“I just didn’t peg you as a turtleneck guy, that’s all.” Blush creeps up my neck and covers my cheeks. I hate how attracted I am to him, but I also kind of love it.
