Page 47 of Mr. Brightside
After the week I’ve had, I’m ready to kick back with a few drinks at the pool and get even more intimately acquainted with the man I married. Working last night—on our wedding night—sucked, but I owed it to my staff to take a weekend closing shift before heading out of town. They don’t know it yet, but I’m going to be their “real” boss very soon. I like to lead by example and earn respect with action.
And the way things have clicked with Cory? Totally unexpected.
I don’t believe in soulmates or shit like that—especially not after watching my best friend wring his heart out over Tori for years. Those two are my family—but they almost destroyed each other with years of push and pull, hot and cold, all in the name of love.
A soulmate isn’t in the cards for me. But there’s no denying my connection with Cory—or the heady chemistry that’s coursing between us.
I assess my reflection in the bathroom mirror, marveling at how perfectly everything has come together.
Still.
Rhett’s words from earlier keep playing on repeat in my mind.
I hope you know what you’re doing.
I knew he’d call me the second he read the group text. I knew others would, too, but his was the only call I was willing to take. He lobbed question after question without giving me time to respond. That went on the entire time Cory and I boarded the plane and got settled into our seats.
Then, just when I thought he was losing steam, Tori added her two cents from the background, which my best friend was more than happy to pass along. Between the two of them, I barely got a word in, even though I was the one being interrogated. Eventually I explained about the restaurants and Cory’s school and even got Rhett to admit I had a solid plan. What we’re doing isn’t conventional, but it’s mutually beneficial, given the circumstances. But his parting words gave me pause.
“Bro, I say this from a place of love and genuine concern… don’t hurt him.”
I get it. I do. Rhett knows that I’m more likely to fuck this up than Cory. I’ve never even been in a relationship, and I have no idea what I’m doing. But there’s something Rhett doesn’t know, because it’s something I don’t even fully understand myself.
This may have started as a transactional marriage of convenience. But it has quickly, magically, inexplicably transformed into so much more.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Truly. We’ve been super clear with each other about what we want out of this. We’re both fully committed to seeing this through, and I don’t take that lightly.”
The flight attendant was scowling at me by then, giving me the perfect excuse to end the call and settle in for our flight. I had planned to listen to music or maybe catch a nap, but I got wrapped up in talking to Cory about his parents, his abuela, and the courses he’s taking this semester. I could listen to him talk for hours. I’m endlessly fascinated by the smallest details he’s willing to share.
I grab my Ray-Bans and phone off the counter, connect my device to the sound system wired through the entire villa, and put on a Mac Miller playlist.
When I step into the bedroom, I spot him on the balcony off the master suite, and it’s like my feet can’t move fast enough. I pull open the sliding glass door and step out into the sticky Florida heat. Ominous storm clouds are swirling off in the distance, miles away out at sea, which is typical for afternoons in the sunshine state. It’s impossibly hot, and it’s still mostly blue skies above us for now. But that storm—the clouds are the darkest possible shade of blue without being black. It makes the air crackle with a heavy inevitability.
My husband is leaning against the banister smack in the middle of the balcony. He’s shirtless and in his swim trunks, the muscles of his back glistening thanks to the sun pounding down on his golden-brown skin.
“What do you think?” I ask as I cross the balcony, wincing as the heated planks scorch the soles of my bare feet.
He turns as I approach and gives me the most thorough perusal I’ve ever been subjected to. I feel scandalized in the best possible way.
“The view’s incredible,” he replies as I reach him. I don’t bother standing beside him, instead sidling up behind him and notching my dick right into the crease of his ass.
He lets out a sharp inhale when I thrust forward and slink my arms around him to pull him to my chest.
“Agreed,” I whisper in his ear. “And it feels even better than it looks.”
He melts as I brace him against me, his back melding into my chest. Our combined mass of muscle and definition makes me want to dig in and squeeze him tighter. I glide both hands across his torso in opposite directions, using one hand to grip his throat while the other teases the drawstring of his trunks.
“No one can see us up here, you know. I made sure we’d have complete privacy.”
He arches back and rests his head in the crook of my neck, his lips seeking mine. He gives up a whimper when I nip him with my teeth.
“Cory?” For as right as this feels, I can’t let myself forget that what we’re doing is rushed and uncharted in so many ways.
He pushes his ass back against me. “Stop doing that,” he murmurs as he rolls his hips again.
His body is telling me yes, but I need to make sure.
“Doing what?” I demand, using the hand I’ve got resting on his happy trail to give myself more leverage and grind against him.