Page 8 of Cord

“Too hot,” she murmurs and reaches for her slip. She yanks it over her head, pulling off her lacy white underwear next. I probably shouldn’t look but fuck, she’s my wife. She’s pink and beautiful down there, perfectly trimmed. I want to know exactly what she tastes like between those thick thighs. But I won’t touch her like that when she’s this intoxicated. No, if we’re going to be together, I need her to be sober and right there with me as I satisfy her curvy body.

When she’s completely naked, she snuggles onto the bed and pats the space next to her.

Every muscle in my body is tense. I should walk into the main area of the honeymoon suite. There’s a lumpy couch that I could sleep on. It’s the smart choice. The logical one. The one that won’t make me spend the night in sweet torment.

“Sleep by me, husband,” she says.

I’m headed straight to hell. No, I am in hell, I decide as I join her on the bed, yanking off my dress shirt but leaving on my pants and shoes. Seems smarter that way.

She puts her head on my shoulder the moment I’m here, but I don’t move. We’re quiet for several long moments then she says, “He cheated on me.”

I swallow hard. I remember that day in the rain, coming up the stairs to the second floor. I was on leave unexpectedly, so damn excited with that engagement ring in my pocket. Then just as I stood in the hallway, fumbling with my key, I heard another man’s voice in our apartment.

I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her. “You didn’t deserve it. Not any of it.”

She snores softly, and I don’t know if she heard it. But fuck, I’m going to do whatever it takes to help her believe it.

I press a soft kiss to her temple. “You’re incredible, and I’m going to fight for our marriage. Even if I have to fight a little dirty.”

Chapter 4

Mira

“Don’t go toward the package.” The muttered plea wakes me from my sleep. I blink open gritty eyes, my mouth feeling like it’s had cotton shoved in it all night long. My head pounds in a rhythmic sensation that almost has me wishing I were dead.

There’s something warm under my cheek, and I lift my aching head. With a start, I realize I’ve been sleeping on a man’s chest. It’s golden tan and hairy and dotted with dozens of scars. I’ve seen these scars before. On the auction website. That’s when I remember yesterday. My wedding. Stuart. Then Cord. Down on one knee. Proposing. Dancing with him.

I reach for him, to brush the strands of dark hair that have fallen over his forehead, but his sleepy words stop me. “Get your ass back here, Greene!”

My heart twists for whatever nightmare he’s reliving. He came from a place called Valor Ranch, where dozens of Marines go when they’re finished with their service. It gives them a chance to re-enter civilian life again while being surrounded by a brotherhood of men that understand what they’re going through. At least, that’s what the article I read online said.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I call softly, brushing that hair back. He’s so strikingly handsome, and I love how thick his beard is.

He opens his eyes slowly, his gaze hazy from sleep. I see the pain and loneliness that he must work so hard to hide from the rest of the world. Then he blinks, and it’s gone. He’s back to being the strong, silent cowboy I’ve just met.

“You snore in your sleep,” I tell him rather than share that I know he was having nightmares.

“Guess so,” he murmurs and flexes his fingers. That’s when I realize where his hand is. It’s on my ass. My naked ass and it’s kneading my flesh. I see the moment he realizes it too. That we’re both together in the bed and at least, one of us is naked.

I quickly spring up, grabbing for a sheet to wrap around myself. But it’s too late. It’s obvious that Cord is naked too. We’re both naked. We must have...ah, OK. Can’t believe I missed a performance with equipment that impressive. I’m not disappointed. Nope, can’t be thinking like that. I need to get us back on solid ground.

I reach to finger comb my hair, my head still pounding. But then I nearly drop the sheet and scramble to put it back in place. It’s not like he hasn’t seen everything already, but still. A wife should be somewhat dressed before she starts talking about dissolving her marriage. “Do you think you could cover up your...self?”

Cord sits up, resting his back against the headboard and arranges a sheet over his feet. I can still see his manhood, and well, let’s just say I’ve never seen morning wood that healthy and enthusiastic.

I gesture. “Maybe more of you could be covered.”

He gives me a slow grin that lets me know he knows what I want and reaches for the sheet, finally adjusting it over his lap. Great, now it looks like he has a tent there. A there I would very much like to explore with my fingers.

“So, the thing about it is...you really helped a girl out, you know?” My voice is too high, too breathy. I haven’t sounded like this since I took a Torts class in law school with a professor who always liked to call on me, so she could humiliate me in front of my peers. I clear my throat and start again. “Thank you for showing up and helping me out.”

He arches one eyebrow, making it obvious that’s not all he did. Dammit, why can’t I remember last night? Wait, I had champagne. A lot of champagne. Well, that explains the headache from hell.

“And now, I’ll just send a quick message to a lawyer friend and get this marriage annulled then you can be on your way, and this will just be a funny story you tell the other cowboys,” I explain, hoping he doesn’t contest it. After all, it shouldn’t be hard to get this marriage annulled. Like it never even happened.

He strokes his beard. “I’m no lawyer, just a backwards bumpkin, but is it really that quick and simple?”

“Sure, it is,” I answer. “I’m a lawyer. Corporate law, but still. I’ll send an email to a friend. We’ll sign some documents, and this will be over before dinner. How does that sound?”