Possessive Fake Husband

“Nope,” he says. “Makes you normal.”

“I don’t know if that’s normal.”

“Lots of people are into lots of different things,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with it. So what if you get turned on thinking about getting caught? I get turned on when you bite your lip. I get turned on when I spank your ass. Or when I think about pinning you down on my bed, arms behind your back, your ass up in the air as I—”

“Okay!” I say, laughing. “I get the picture.”

“Anyway.” He grins at me. “Don’t worry about it.”

I lean my head on his chest. I can hear the steady rhythm of his heart. “I won’t,” I say. “Let’s stay here a little longer, okay?”

“Okay.” He kisses my hair. “We can stay like this as long as you want.”

I snuggle closer and hold him tight.

I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s a mixture of so many things. But I know one thing for sure.

I feel good with him. When I finally let go, when I ignore all the voices in the back of my head telling me to be careful… I feel good. I can forget my insecurities for a little while.

Even if this is fake, and things aren’t perfect. And we’re supposed to be enemies. And things aren’t going our way.

It feels good. I love holding him, kissing him, feeling him between my legs.

That has to count for something.

At least it does to me. And that’s all that matters.16JoshAfter that frustrating afternoon with Larry, I spend a few days at home regrouping over the weekend. Maggie keeps to herself, and for the most part, things go smoothly.

Even though it’s been setback after setback, I still think things could be worse. I have at least two allies on my side, and although Seb knows what’s happening and is actively moving to block me, at least now it’s happening out in the open. I know he’s doing it so I can take steps to counter him.

But Sunday evening, things change. I’m up in my study when I hear someone ring the front doorbell. I frown and head down the steps, and as I get to the bottom, my pace slows. Maggie stands in front of the door, staring out at someone, an expression of surprise and fear on her face.

“Maggie?” I ask.

She turns to me. “Oh,” she says. “Uh, hi, Josh.”

I cock my head as she opens the door all the way.

Sylvia Lofthouse stands there, looking stern and somewhat annoyed.

“Your wife hasn’t invited me in yet,” she says.

“Mrs. Lofthouse. Please, come in.” I stare at her for a moment as she steps into my home. She’s wearing a smart skirt suit and her hair looks immaculate. She looks like she belongs on any board in the country. I glance at Maggie, who looks like she might fall over out of fear at any second.

I know the hold the Lofthouse family has over her. I get it, to an extent. They’re like mythic creatures to her. She sees them once or twice per year, gets a taste of their family’s riches, and then is sent back to her own little mundane life. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone like Sylvia Lofthouse in my family.

“Well, this is nice,” she says as she steps toward my kitchen table. She stops and turns to us. “Very lovely. I like what you’ve done with it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lofthouse.”

Her frown deepens. “Call me Sylvia. We may as well be a little less formal.”

Maggie closes the door and drifts over. “Uh, Aunt Sylvia. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to speak with you both, dear. Come sit.” She gestures at the table. I walk over and clear off a couple magazines and a book before Sylvia sits down at the edge of her chair, her back straight, like she’s about to get up and bolt at any second.

“What can I do for you?” I ask her. “It’s a nice surprise, you dropping in like this.”

“Yes,” she says. “It is a nice surprise for you, isn’t it?” She gives me a flat look, like she doesn’t care if she’s putting me out. Maggie sits down and crosses her arms, then uncrosses them, then crosses them again like she can’t decide how to place her body.

I take a seat and tilt my head. “What can I do for you?” I ask again.

“As you’re aware, Josh, my family has something of a reputation.”

“I’ve heard,” I say. “You’re apparently very important.”

Maggie looks totally aghast at my casual tone but can’t quite seem to make herself use words.

“Yes, well.” Sylvia gives me a tight smile. “So they tell me. I’m here to talk to you about that reputation, unfortunately.”

“I’m not sure how that applies to me, Sylvia.”

“Actually, you should. Since you’re married to my niece here.”

Maggie finally finds her voice. “I’m sorry, Aunt Sylvia.”