The Husband Game

“Is someone in there?” A door slams open, way too close for comfort. Fuck. The door we came in through. I hear a jangle of keys, followed by heavy footsteps. “This is security.”

“Fuck,” we both gasp in sync, and way too loud.

The footsteps start in our direction. I scramble, yanking up my panties and pushing my dress down at the same time. I’m unsteady on my feet though, swaying, and breathless still from the orgasm. Charlie catches me, laughing, and wraps an arm around my waist to steady me.

“What are you doing?” I hiss at him, when he holds me there for a moment, letting me catch my breath, get my feet back underneath me in these stupid kitten heels I don’t know why I wore. “We have to run!”

“Don’t be silly.” He smoothes my hair, kisses my forehead like I’m being ridiculous. Then, as casual as anything, he loops my hand through his and pulls me into a casual stroll back toward the entrance.

We only walk a couple of steps before we practically run straight into the security guard. My heart hammers in my chest, my hair wild, my whole body still singing with the faint remaining pleasure of the orgasm, the adrenaline of the shouting from the security guard.

The guard eyes us both, his gaze returning and then lingering on me.

“Evening,” Charlie says easily. “We were just checking out the garden.”

“The garden closes at sunset,” the guard says, his face a scowl of disapproval. Still, that stern gaze hasn’t left me.

My heart stutters in my chest. But Charlie takes it all in stride. “Oh, I’m so sorry. The door was unlocked. We didn’t see a sign.” Finally, Charlie seems to register where the guard is glaring, and he glances over his shoulder at me, at my shocked, stunned expression, like I’ve just been blindsided with something. Not to mention I’m sure my face is bright red, my whole body alight and trembling after that.

Charlie smiles, gentle and reassuring, then turns back to the guard. “My fiancée needed some air. We were eating up on the rooftop, but she felt a little dizzy when we got off the elevators…”

The guard’s expression softens, then, and when he looks back at me, he’s no longer glaring. “I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well. But I’ll have to ask you both to leave the gardens.”

“Of course. Thank you,” I manage, my voice only trembling slightly on the end. Charlie squeezes my hand in support, and together we hurry from the gardens, the guard behind us, grumbling to himself. Probably about annoying hotel guests sneaking into places they shouldn’t be allowed.

My heartbeat doesn’t slow down until we’re back out front of the hotel, and the valet is tossing Charlie the keys to his car. Only when we’re safe inside it do I finally dissolve into laughter, Charlie joining me. “You should have seen your face,” he teases.

I swat his arm. “You bastard. You can’t make me lose my head like that in public!”

“It was fine. No harm done.” He smirks. “Not that you were very convincing with the guard…”

“Oh, my god.” I bury my face in my hands. “Do you think he knew what we were doing?”

“I think he knew we were in there for a little more than air, if that’s what you’re asking,” Charlie responds with a sly grin, and I swat his arm yet again. The bastard ignores me, just chuckling to himself as he starts up his car.

“You’re the worst,” I protest.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Charlie shrugs, unrepentant.

I roll my eyes and sink into my seatback. “This marriage is turning out to be entirely filled with sex and little else.”

“Is that an issue?” He side-eyes me, still wearing that sly smile of his.

“Just…” I bite my lower lip. What am I going to write about? Traditional marriages start off with a lot of lust and sneaking off to fuck in public gardens? I clear my throat. “I need more material.”

“So ask me.” He spreads his hands, before he reaches back for the wheel to turn onto the main road. “I’m an open book.”

“Ask you what?”

“Anything you want. Anything you think will be good for your article.”

I hum a little, thinking. “What’s your major?”

He laughs. “All the questions you could come up with, and that’s the one you think will bare my soul?”

“I don’t know!” I reach over to bat his shoulder lightly, playful. He catches my hand and turns it over, palm up, to plant a kiss in the center of my palm. It sends tingles rushing down my arm, all the way up to my shoulder. “What should I ask, then?”

“No, no. You picked your question already.” His eyes spark with mirth, before he turns back to the road. “Electrical engineering.” My eyebrows shoot up. I must look surprised, because he side-eyes me again. “What, you think jocks can’t have tough majors?” He winks. “Look, I’m good enough at hockey to get a full ride to college. But I’ve got no disillusions. I could play minor leagues at best; I’m no budding NHL star. So, I figured might as well use that full ride to best advantage. Choose a smart career move, something that I enjoy, that’ll be steady once my hockey career winds down.”