“Will we be okay?” Jack wonders. He motions from his chest to mine.
My throat swells. “I think so.”
His eyes redden, overwhelmed emotion passing between us. “I love you,” he tells me. “I can actually see a future with you, Oscar. It’s this crazy, high-adrenaline future where we’re both running around the world together. I’m filming my docuseries, and you’re protecting your client. And at the end of the day when we’re both exhausted as fuck, we climb into bed together and hold each other and we don’t even have to catch each other up on our day because we just know.” He puts a hand to his chest. “I want that. So what I’m about to say has nothing to do with you or your job. Okay?”
Pain spindles between us because it feels like he’s setting me up for the crash down. Not even a gentle let down. Like he’s passing me a parachute before we both jump out of the plane.
“I need time to decide whether I want an annulment. Whether I feel like, for the both of us, it’s the better option.” He hugs his strong arms around his body, closing off.
Seeing him like that breaks my heart.
I finally reach for him, grabbing his wrist and separating his threaded arms. I pull him closer. Our knees knock, and my hand slides to his palm. His flies to my collarbones over my tattoos, planted in a way that feels like he’s claiming me.
“I have to explain why,” Jack breathes softly.
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve been dating one month. Every article, every magazine, every voice on social media, they’re all going to say our marriage is just more of a publicity stunt to combat the Oslie rumors.” He grimaces. “I love you so fucking much, and having that type of negativity attached to a marriage feels crushing. You deserve confetti and congratulations and every good thing that comes with this type of announcement.”
“You deserve that too, Highland.”
He nods, but tears gather in his eyes. “Maybe if we wait to get married down the road. People won’t be so critical. It’s a possibility.”
I know.
But I don’t care about other people. I can be married now to him and face all those voices. Do I wish Jack is where I am? Sure, but we all have our own timelines, and I can’t force his. Even if it hurts.
“The problem I’m having is that every time I consider getting the annulment, it makes me physically sick,” Jack says into a deeper wince. “Which is why I probably need time to make the decision.”
In his heart, I don’t think Jack wants to end this marriage. I breathe easier knowing that, but it still doesn’t change the fact that our rings are going to remain in our pockets for a good while. Maybe forever, depending on where his head lands.
“I’m good with that.” Saying those words, I’m starting to feel it.
Because he needs time, and I need him to make this decision with a clear level-head. I want him to want this marriage completely and without reservations.
I add, “So we probably shouldn’t tell anyone what happened.”
“Would you be okay with that?” Jack asks. “Because I know you’re close to Farrow and Donnelly—”
“They’ve kept so much shit from me, bro. Farrow dating Maximoff. Donnelly hooking up with Luna.” I laugh softly. “It’s my fucking turn.” I lay a hand on top of his, the one that’s planted on my collarbones.
A moment passes between us. Understanding. We’re going to remain married, but for how long—who knows?
Jack edges closer, digging my back into the closed door. We grind in together like we’re slowly mending something that fissured. His lips brush against my ear. “I’m sorry you have to wait for me.” To make a decision, are the unsaid words.
“For you, I don’t mind waiting,” I whisper back. Our hands are roaming. Our bodies bucking into one another. Gripping his ass, I push him harder against me. His lips part against my neck.
“For anyone else,” I tell him. “They can go fuck off.”
I feel his lips rise into a smile, and he pulls back just enough to wedge his hand down between our bodies. He rubs my dick over the top of my pants. His eyes flit to mine, his smile turning into a full-on charming grin. “How do you feel about fucking a married man?”
“Depends,” I say, kicking off from the door. I walk him back towards the gold four-poster bed with a cream comforter and fluffy décor pillows. His ass hits the mattress.
“On what?” His eyes fall to my lips.
“If that married man is married to me.” I pick him up by the ass and he lets out a guttural aroused breath as I toss him further back on the mattress. I hop onto the bed and straddle him before he has time to move anywhere. His chest rises and falls, his hand on top of his head, winded, out of breath. All of the above.