“I would be a fucking amazing husband.” He rests an arm behind me on the booth, and we lean even closer. “Every night I’d ask my wife about her day, and really listen. I’d rub her feet when they’re tired. I’d bring her coffee in bed every morning.”
“Amazing. I would love my husband to bring me coffee in bed.” I stroke my chin thoughtfully. “You know, if I was a wife, I think I’d make my husband dinner every night. Not because I’m old-fashioned, or anything. But because I like to cook. And it’s so much work to make a big fuss for one person.”
“Your future husband is the luckiest guy in the world.” Josh shakes his head wistfully. “I can’t remember the last time I haddinner that wasn’t takeout or from the freezer. I don’t even know if my stove works.”
“I can make you dinner to find out.”
“That would be great. And I can get you coffee in bed.”
“It’s a deal.” I smile goofily at him. “We already have a better marriage planned than most people I know.”
“You know, I think you’re right.”
“See, you can tell me when I’m right.” I tap his nose playfully, and he wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer. I rest my head against his shoulder. “You’re already on your way to being the best husband ever.”
“I’m here to serve.” He rubs his cheek against the crown of my head. “We just need someone to pronounce us husband and wife.”
“And to tell you to kiss the bride.” I pull back slightly and pucker my lips.
With a chuckle, he lowers his lips to oblige me.
At first touch, a jolt of electricity shoots through me. The grins slip from our faces as his full lips massage mine.
My eyelids flutter closed. I’m not sure if I breathe. But as the kiss deepens, I lose the need for oxygen. I don’t need it to survive. I need him. I need this.
With a moan, I part my lips for him. My tongue stroking his, earning a groan from deep in his chest. He pulls me even closer. I tangle my fingers in the cropped hair at the back of his head.
Time passes by. Seconds, minutes, maybe days. None of it matters.
All I know is I can’t get enough of this feeling coursing through my veins.
And I never want to stop kissing him. Till death do we part.
A sledgehammer pounding against my brain jolts me awake.
I hiss at the sunlight pouring in.
“Nooo.” I groan and press my hand over my eyes. “Make it stop.”
The drilling stops with a snort, and I lower my hand. Slowly, I turn my still pounding head on my pillow and come face to face with Mr. Professional Gambler.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
That wasn’t a sledgehammer. That was him. Snoring. In bed. My bed.
Holding my breath, I lift the sheets and release a sigh of relief. We’re both still dressed, though our clothes are rumpled.
A sparkle on my left hand catches my notice. My eyes grow even wider as I raise my hand to see exactly what has caught the light.
It’s a ring. A gold ring.
Snapshots flash through my head.
Another round of tequila shots.
More promises of what we’d be like as husband and wife.
Increasingly sloppy kisses.
