Dear Future Ex-wife

Nate pulls me into his chest, and his soft lips graze mine. With Carl Voss around here somewhere, I have to keep up the charade. And if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t have to pretend anymore. I grant Nate full access as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. He gives it a good tug before he invades my mouth, and our tongues tangle together.

Toned to perfection, every ridge of his hard body is pressed against mine. As he cups the side of my face with his hand, he runs his thumb along my jaw. A shiver rolls down my spine. He makes it impossible for me to fight him.

Nate knows I want him.

Even I can’t deny it.

Hours later, Nate leads me upstairs to our honeymoon suite. We’re both pretty drunk, holding each other up as we lean into each other. He jams the keycard into the slot on the door, and the light flashes red. One eye open, he tries it a few more times with no luck.

“Fuck,” he slurs, pressing his hand to the wall to gain his balance. “We’re locked out.”

I take the card from his hand, and I must be less loaded than Nate because the light turns green this time. Nate pushes the door open, and we stumble inside, holding onto each other. Inside the suite, I kick off my shoes and groan when my painfully sore feet touch the cold tile. Nate staggers, and with his weight pressed into me, we fall backward. Thankfully, we tumble onto one of the couches in the living room, and my head hits a soft cushion.

“That was close.” Nate smells of bourbon, manly sweat, and a touch of his spicy aftershave. “I drank more than I thought.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to get drunk and fuck all night.”

He laughs and then his lips crash into mine. He slides his hand behind my head as his tongue sensually slips into my mouth, teasing me with tentative kisses. I melt into him, rocking my hips to meet his, matching each of his thrusts. We’re so smashed we barely have enough energy to do much else than dry hump between sloppy kisses.

I peel my lips from his, out of breath, scratching at the fabric itching my skin. “Help me out of this dress.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and then helps me up from the couch. A bottle of chilled champagne and two glasses is set up on the dining room table. There’s even a bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries, expensive dark chocolate, and a basket of my favorite pastries. Nate had it all planned out. Too bad we let our friends hand us one drink after another until we were stumbling into the elevator.

Our suite is almost as big as Nate’s apartment and boasts magnificent views of the ocean. When Nate catches me looking through the French doors, he opens them, leading me by the hand onto the balcony. The smell of salty sea air assaults my nostrils as we step outside. Nate hugs me from behind, and we stand there in silence. It’s dark outside, the moon casting its soft glow on the ocean as waves crash against the beach.

Nate rests his chin on my shoulder, his arms tight around my stomach. “Thank you, Harley.”

“For what?”

“Marrying me. Taking my last name. Making me the luckiest bastard in the world. I don’t deserve you.”

My chest cracks open from his confession. I should say something, I guess, but what? Even though my feelings for him have changed over time, I still feel like this won’t last. Like none of this is real. How can a relationship that is built like a house of cards have a real future? Eventually, one card slips from the deck, and they all come crashing down.

After a few minutes, Nate lifts me into his arms and somehow manages to make it to the bedroom without falling over. He lowers me to the floor, his fingers tugging at my dress as he tries to help me out of it.

“Try the zipper,” I suggest.

Nate groans and then a few seconds later, my gown falls to the carpet around my ankles. I drape it over the back of an armchair, standing in front of my husband in the skimpy lingerie Jules bought me. The thong rides up my ass, which was such a pain all night. I kept wanting to run into the bathroom to rip the damn thing off. My bra is see-through lace and matches the panties Nate is drooling over.

“They look even better on you.” Nate licks his lips and slides his hand to my hip, pulling me into his hard chest. “I can’t wait to take them off.”

“I want to remember our first time,” I confess.

Nate nods in agreement and then drops to the floor in front of me. “Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against the fabric, sending a ripple of pleasure throughout my body. “I want to fuck you with my tongue and my fingers.”