Dear Future Ex-wife

“It won’t be my hand wrapped around my cock that night,” I challenge.

She snickers. “It sure as hell won’t be mine.”

I lean forward, our faces inches apart. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to come.”

“Okay,” Maggie says as she sets two glasses of milk on the table. “Now, where were we?” She looks at each of the remaining cake plates and slides two more in front of us. “You’ll love this one. Red velvet is our most popular cake. Some brides order a single layer for the tier and others have requested an entire cake for their guests. It all depends on your budget, number of guests—”

I throw my hand up. “We don’t have a budget.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Harley says, unaffected. “Let them eat cake!”

She gives me a wicked smirk I want to kiss from her lips as I steal her last breath. It’s not the money that’s getting under my skin because I have plenty of it. I want Harley to care about our wedding. It might not be real, but I still want it to mean something to both of us. If we’re going to go through with this, we might as well do it right.

Maggie looks at me with a hopeful look on her face. “Any preference?”

“Our guests will appreciate having options. I like the idea of different flavors on every layer.”

“Nate can never settle on one flavor. He has to sample all of them,” Harley says with laughter in her voice.

She’s talking about women. Harley won’t admit it, but I know she’s pissed about Veronica showing up at the apartment. I guess I deserve her anger. Her entire life changed overnight because of me, and I haven’t exactly made this easy on her.

Harley moans again when she tastes the red velvet cake. Damn, my cock is getting hard listening to her. I’m convinced she’s doing this on purpose.

I press my lips against her ear. “I could listen to you eat cake all day.”

Her body trembles, but she plays it off like my closeness is making her cringe. Giving me a nasty look, she rolls her eyes. “Do you have to make everything about sex?” Her voice is so low only I can hear her.

“You started it, Queen.”

“Don’t mess with me, King,” she says in a playful tone.

We stare each other down for a long moment, and then she does something I wasn’t expecting. Harley squeezes a piece of cake between her fingers and smashes it against my mouth. She laughs, holding up her fingers that are covered in red cake and white icing.

Stunned by her boldness, I hold her gaze for a few more seconds. “You have no idea what you just started, woman.” Before she can turn away, I’m ready with my slice of cake, and it crashes into her cheek.

“Oh, my.” Maggie jumps up from her chair. “Umm… I’ll get you some wet towels and…” She has no idea what to make of the situation, rushing toward the kitchen in a hurry.

We both burst into laughter, doubled over at the silliness of our antics.

“You’re such a jerk,” Harley says.

I wipe her cheek with a cloth napkin. “Isn’t this what married couples do at weddings?”

“We’re not married yet.”

She leans into my touch, her eyes fixed on me, and doesn’t protest as I clean her up. In fact, to my surprise, Harley uses her napkin to sweep away the icing stuck to my face.

“We will be soon enough.”

“You seem way too happy about this,” she says. “I would’ve thought you, of all people, would hate the thought of giving up your playboy ways to marry a woman who won’t even have sex with you.”

“I’m winning that bet,” I challenge.

She drops the napkin on my lap. “Is that all you care about? Some silly bet.”

I roll the pad of my thumb along her bottom lip. “No, that’s not all I care about.”

Her eyes widen. “You care about me?”

“You know I do,” I say without hesitation. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Harley sticks out her tongue, which slides along my thumb.

Did she do that on purpose?

Who knows with Harley.

I lean forward, testing the waters, and she doesn’t push me away. My lips brush against hers. She sucks in a deep breath.

“I got you some towels,” Maggie says, breaking up what could have been our first kiss.

“Thank you.” Harley takes the warm towel from her hand and wipes her face and hands.

Harley sinks into her chair, unable to look at me.

Does the thought of kissing me bother her that much?

On our way home, Harley glances out the window, watching each car that passes by. She looks so beautiful when she’s lost in thought that I could stare at her all night. When Harley doesn’t know anyone is watching her, she lowers her guard. She allows herself to be vulnerable.