“I love being inside you,” he groans. “I’m going to do this every day in the summer. Every night I can steal before then. Every chance I get, I’m going to love you like this. I want to be the best husband, Francesca.”
I come for him, clenching hard.
There are fireworks, better than the ones we watched over the Strip. It’s dazzling, magnificent, and perfect.
And as they fade, I get to watch Logan’s face grow more intense, more focused, as he stares down at me, his rhythm turning ragged as he thrusts faster. I lift my legs and dig my heels into his ass, urging him on with my body.
“Oh God, fuck, you feel so good, I’m gonna—” He groans and folds over me, his face right above mine now, swaying but never breaking eye contact as his hips snap and he buries himself deep. “Frankie…”
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down on top of me, accepting his full weight as we kiss softly, our lips brushing over and over again as we catch our breath.
When he finally rolls off me, I put my head on his chest for a minute, enjoying the way he plays with my hair, the way his heart thumps against my ear, slower and slower.
When he lets out a little snore, I crawl out of bed and make my way to the bathroom, taking the rose toy with me to wash it.
I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She has the most epic sex hair I’ve ever seen, a luscious mane of debauchery, and the pinkest, happiest cheeks. Swollen lips. Sparkling eyes.
“Go pee, you idiot,” I say to her.
She grins back.
After I take care of business, I find my purse.
“Come back to bed,” Logan mumbles.
“Coming. Do you have to be up for a meeting tomorrow?” I snag my phone. “I’ll set an alarm.”
“Yeah, I’ve got morning skate at ten.” His words slur together, butskateis clear as a bell.
I go still, every effervescent bubble in my heart popping at the same moment.
What?
No, it’s not possible. He’s abusinessman,not an athlete. I was prepared to think of him as aprofessional gamblerbefore…
Logan Granger.
And now his last name has new context. I don’t need to look at my phone to know who my new husband is.
I’m a complete idiot.
He rolls over, reaching for him. That athletic build, that impressive wing span.
He catches my wrist and tugs me into his side as my heart goes into free fall.
Don’t, I want to say, my heart breaking in two.Don’t hold me like this. Don’t play with my heart.But the time to say that was hours ago. And it’ll be tomorrow, too. I’m going to have to say it tomorrow.
In the morning, I’m going to have to be brave and leave before he can laugh in my face and say all the things I already know, but don’t want to hear out loud.
This was just a fun lark.
It doesn’t mean anything.
We’ll get an annulment because we were drunk.
I should leave right now, I know that, but I don’t want to. I want to pretend for a few more hours that this is actually our wedding night and it actually means something.
I press myself into a tight, small ball next to him, letting myself selfishly absorb his body heat. Needing it because I’m suddenly very cold.
