My cock is still halfway hard, and the massive wet spot that’s marking my release is visible for her.
“Do you see that?” I ask.
Her mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.
“Rosie, do you know what that is?”
This time she nods.
“That’s what you do to me. That’s what you’ve done to me since the first night that I met you.” I step closer, my gaze locked on hers until I'm so close that if she wanted to, she could reach out and press her palm over the wet mess that's seeped through the fabric.
“I didn’t know who you were, but I knew you were someone special. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And I want you to see it—what your arousal does to me. You in my hands, your scent, your heat, your body…It controls me.” She draws in a sharp, surprised breath.
“I was ready to come the second you stripped down and put on my shirt. Your pussy, that tight, wet heat—God, Rosie.” I shake my head, staring at her like she’s the only thing that’s keeping me breathing. “You have no idea.”
We’re both a mess. Married but pretending we’re not when we’re alone. Dancing around what’s real between us, too afraid to do anything more than a lap dance and a little grinding.
I should be embarrassed for nutting in my pants like a teenager, but I’m not. Not one fucking bit.
“I’m going to go clean myself up,” I say, turning on my heel before my restraint snaps entirely. Because if I don’t walk out of this room right now, I’m going to fuck her. And I don’t think she’s ready for what that means.
Because if I fuck Rosie, this won’t be temporary anymore. And she doesn’t understand that yet.
I head for the bathroom downstairs, stripping off my cum-soaked boxers and pants, brushing my teeth, and pulling on a fresh pair of sweatpants from the bag I packed for this weekend.
I splash some water on my face, run my fingers through my dark hair, then look at myself in the mirror. And instead of seeing the guy who’s been disappointing his mom and everyone who loves me, the professional hockey player trying to figure out a way to extend his contract and fix his reputation, I see a man worthy of being loved. Willing to put in the work for a woman so far out of his league it’s laughable.
I check my phone for missed messages and see a text from my older brother Levi.
Levi: When are you going to call me and explain how you married a woman that no one has ever heard about?
Five minutes later he’d texted again.
Levi: And she’s smart, gorgeous and successful? No fucking way this wasn’t some arranged marriage type shit.
Levi: Anyway, happy for you. Don’t fuck this up.
I sigh and slip my phone back into my pocket. I’ll need to explain the truth to my family eventually, but right now things feel too delicate. I get the sense that if I make one wrong move, Rosie’s going to push me away and blame the lawsuit.
And I can’t have that happening. Especially when we’re just getting started.
Five minutes later I’m clean and calm—or as close to calm as I can get. But one look at the guest bed she told me I’d be sleeping in, and I know this isn’t going to work.
No way in hell am I sleeping here when she’s right down the hallway.
I walk back to the primary bedroom and silently push open the door. Rosie is curled up in the center of the massive bed, small and soft, still wearing my shirt with nothing underneath.
She looks like everything I shouldn’t want. But I do. It’s my career that’s at risk here, the one thing that I've centered my whole life around, and I don’t even care.
I slide into bed on one side, scooping my arms underneath her to nudge her closer to the edge. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open as she realizes it’s me.
“What are you doing Boone?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.
“Sleeping next to my wife.”
“What?” she whispers, a little more awake that time.
“That guest bed is a death trap, and I know you just bought this fancy new mattress. I overheard you talking about it with Rhiannon.”
