Quickie

He thinks about it for a second. “We can if you want. I’ve always thought of it as something for people who live together. But when you’re seeing each other as much as we do, I think it still counts.” He looks me up and down when he talks about seeing me as much as he does, and I blush, my body heating up. I remember the last time we were in this kitchen together. There was a lot less food and a lot more chocolate, and the counters were used in several …interesting ways.

“How was your day, honey?” I say.

“You’re thinking about the chocolate,” he says.

I look away quickly. “No, I’m not.”

“It’s okay,” he says, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me. “I think about it every damn day.”

“Did you think about it today?”

He chuckles, lips against my skin. “Yes, I did. I was in the middle of a meeting with the president of our French chains, and the image of you spread out right here on this counter popped into my head. You don’t want to know how difficult it is to talk about international business when your cock is rock hard.”

“My poor husband,” I say too sweetly, “that must be hard.”

“It was,” he says, feigning hurt, “I had to wait hours until I could slip away. And touch myself, thinking about you. Thinking about all the things I still would like to do to you. With you.”

I turn to face him, looping my hands around his neck. I’m thoroughly aroused now, and I am wearing underwear even though I’m not sure how long they’ll last with him. “I think I’d like to hear more about those things. Maybe you can show me exactly what you did.”

My hand strays down to his belt, and he grins, slipping away from me before I can get a good grip on it. “Not yet. Dinner first.”

“You’re a tease,” I say, pouting.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

He laughs, and so do I, and I turn on the blender. Fruit and wine explode everywhere, raining down after being hurled towards the ceiling. I scream, dodging ice cubes as they fall and turn off the blender as quickly as possible. I was so caught up in Will that I completely forgot to put the top on the blender. I’m covered in juice and berries that have been violently torn apart. Will and I stare at each other, frozen in horror, and then he bursts out laughing. I don’t.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Why? It was an accident.” He’s still laughing, “But you look adorable covered in fruit.”

I scramble to pick the scattered ice and berries off the floor, piling it into the sink and the trash, whichever is closer. “I ruined the dress.”

Will shrugs, picking up a few stray bits off the oven. “It’s a dress, not the end of the world.”

“Still, I feel terrible. Do you have paper towel?”

“Over on the island where I breaded the chicken.” He points in their direction.

I pick my way over to the island, which is half covered in piles of papers and Will’s briefcase, and half in the remnants of breaded chicken. The paper towels are sitting on the table, but I miss them. I slip on a piece of ice and catch myself on the table, but the papers go flying. “Shit.” Behind me I hear Will laughing even more.

“It’s really fine, Sandy.”

“I’ll clean it up, just give me a second.”

I grab the paper towels and clean my hands before scooping up the papers so they’re not damaged by stray ice or berries. One of them is our marriage license. Another one is a letter, and I don’t mean to read it, but my name pops out at me and suddenly I find myself scanning part of the text.

Per your wishes and the requirements stated in the contract, I have married Sandy Nelson, C.P.A., within the time allotted. Included is a notarized copy of the marriage certificate so you can be sure that I’m not faking it. Now that I’ve done as I’ve been told, please remit the remaining balance of my inheritance so that this can be finished.

My entire body goes cold, and suddenly everything clicks. Will—Wilcox—needed someone to marry so he could get the rest of his inheritance. What better place to find someone quickly than Vegas? And he was so invested in us staying together. No matter what, even though it didn’t make sense. He romanced me, made me think that we were a real couple. Made me fall in love with him. And it was all for money.

“How much?” I ask.

“How much what?”

My body is stiff, and I can barely move, but I turn, the papers still in my hand. “How much was the rest of your inheritance?” He freezes, turning to look at the papers in my hands. “I want to know how much I’m worth.”