Page 14 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

A LITTLE BIT MARRIED, A LOT BIT NAKED

ROXY

It’s officially the last day of the retreat and we’re also officially “that couple” now.

You know the one. Too handsy at breakfast. Too affectionate in group circles. Too smug during reflection hour.

Sasha makes a comment about our “auras glowing in sync.”

Whitney just mutters, “Their pelvises are certainly syncing. A lot. Loudly.” Everyone chuckles.

Chase hasn’t worn a shirt in over forty-eight hours. And I haven’t worn underwear in days.

I like for my man to have easy access… very easy access.

We’re winning at everything and I’m not being humble about it.

Today’s activity is called “Deep Dive.”

Which sounds like intense meaningful therapy… but it’s actually a literal deep dive. Sasha and Miguel—who are one-hundred-thousand-percent-on-again—have set up a mini beach challenge.

A freaking obstacle course… involving the water and trust-based dares. The winning couple gets a bottle of champagne, a dinner for two at a fancy restaurant, and a “sensual couple’s massage.”

I want the champagne. Chase wants the massage. We both want the date night.

We’re united in our goal to dominate these fools.

“You ready?” I ask him as we all line up on the sand.

He smirks. “Always.”

“Don’t let me fall.” I mutter.

He leans in, nips my earlobe, and says, “You fall, I catch. You jump, I chase. You leave, I follow. And you kick me out, I stay.”

My knees wobble and we haven’t even started the damn game.

The course includes: a rope swing, a water balloon gauntlet, a literal trust fall off a dock into your partners arms—it’s only four feet, but still. And then the final dare… Skinny dip or surrender.

We crush it. He carries me through the water balloon sprint. I launch him onto the rope swing like an Olympian. And we nail the trust fall—he catches me midair, kisses me upside down like Spiderman with a mortgage .

And when we hit the final dare, everyone else bails.

I don’t hesitate. I strip and toss my bikini top at Sasha. “Hold this for me, will ya?” I say. “It’s my ego.”

Chase drops his shorts and grabs my hand. We race into the surf—naked, laughing, glowing.

Like the storm finally passed.

Like we survived it.

We yell as we hit the water. It’s still pretty cold. The ocean is wild. We’re pummeled with waves. Uncaring, we kiss like idiots until a wave knocks us down. Gasping when we resurface, we laugh.

I look at him. Right in those too-pretty eyes and rake my eyes over his tattooed and fit body. Jumping on him, I knock us both down again and say, “You’re it for me, Chase West. No prenup, no exit strategy. You die in this marriage, or you go to Hell trying.”

He stares. His chest is rapidly rising. His mouth is parted in an “o.” His soul is practically showing. Then, he grabs my face and kisses me so hard I forget we’re surrounded by people... until something brushes against my naked ass.

Screaming in terror, I start jumping around, trying to jump over the waves and escape whatever just touched me… it wasn’t Chase!

CHASE

She said “no exit strategy.” While naked.

I was just about to lose all semblance of whatever sanity Roxy hasn’t consumed when she screams in a way that curdles my blood.

She starts slapping at the water and jumping over waves in her haste to escape whatever is in it.

She screeches, “Something just touched my ass, and it wasn’t you! ”

Uh, yeah. It wasn’t me.

My head swivels as I scour the water for the threat and Roxy is racing full speed ahead to the beach.

Her ass is catching the sunlight, and her titties are bouncing like balloons on her chest—but those puppies are all natural.

People are standing on the beach… mouths agape as they stare.

I scream at her, “Baby, you’re as naked as the day you were born and everyone can s— oh, fuck …

fuck me!” Something smooth rubs against my thigh…

very close to my dick. I look down and bellow, “A shark… a shark thinks my dick is food. Oh, hell no!” It’s grey…

a sand shark, but a fucking shark none the less.

I cup my dick with my hands to protect it—not that I can cover the whole thing—and follow after Roxy, uncaring of the fact that we’re both naked as fuck and causing a spectacle.

Bree, Sasha, and Miguel are on shore pointing and gasping.

Whitney is screaming, “Get out! Get the hell out of the water!” Miguel starts laughing.

That mother fucker is bent over, holding his stomach, and losing his damn mind like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

He’s laughing so hard, he falls over into the sand.

Roxy makes it to shore and Sasha hands her a towel to cover herself. I finally make it out of the water and my heart is about to jump out of my chest. No one hands me anything.

Still holding my dick with two hands because I am traumatized, I catch the eye of a mother, whose face is the color of a tomato. Her eyes bug out of her head as she stares at me with her hands over her kid’s eyes.

Roxy looks around the beach and she starts laughing her ass off. I can’t help it, I join her.

I’m naked and cupping my dick while I moon everyone on the beach.

I’ve had a lot of moments in my life.

This is the moment I’ll relive on loop until I’m old, grumpy, and making pancakes for our grandkids.

Trent throws me a towel, and I catch it with one hand and keep my man-meat covered— well mostly, I’m big— with the other.

Roxy is still chortling so hard she’s now wheezing. Water drips off her lashes. Her lips are swollen from my mouth. And I know— right then —I’m never letting her go again.

“You’re it for me, Chase West.”

God help me.

Towel-wrapped, we leave our captive audience and all head back to the house like minor celebrities returning from battle.

Trent jokingly asks if the shark caught a bite of us.

Roxy grins and says, “Nah, we’re too quick for that. But if he’d arrived two seconds later, he might have interrupted me taking a bite of Chase.” She gestures at me, “I mean, do you see my man?!”

Miguel snorts, “Babe, everyone saw all of your man… and all of you .”

Ignoring him, I almost carry her back to the room right then.

Dinner is ordered in tonight. It’s served on the patio under a string of twinkle lights that look like something out of a fairy tale where the sex is phenomenal and the emotional baggage comes with dessert.

Bree passes out champagne.

Whitney starts clapping.

Miguel stands and tries to make a toast, but Roxy cuts him off. “Actually… I’ve got this one.”

She stands. Her hair is damp. The diamond in her ring catches the light and sparkles.

Her eyes are on me. “My name’s Roxy Ruiz West,” she announces to the group, “and I would like to publicly confirm that I have ruined this man for all others. He cries during Pixar movies, eats pussy like it’s his last meal, and made me banana bread with chocolate chips because I needed a food hug. ”

Trent starts clapping.

Weston salutes me.

Miguel mutters, “I need to rethink everything.”

Roxy lifts her glass. “To second chances. And third orgasms.”

The group explodes.

I stand next to her. Lift my own glass. And say simple, honest, and loud, “To the only woman who ever made me want to be better. And the only one I’ll ever belong to.”

She’s blinking fast.

So am I.

I pull out the ring. The first one. The Ring Pop base.

Our real beginning. I slide it onto her other hand.

“I loved you from the moment I saw you, Roxy West. Before your first insult. Before my first Roxy headache. Before our Vegas wedding. And through all of the chaos since that day. I’ll love you long after the rest of this burns. ”

She makes a sound I can’t name. Then, tackles me, right into the chair and straddles me in front of everyone. “The blow job you’re getting tonight is going to have you forgetting your name.”

That’s my Roxy.

Trent drops his drink and mutters to Whitney, “Babe, take note.”

Sasha whispers, “Sweet mercy, I need to sage this patio before we leave tomorrow morning.”

I just kiss my wife because she’s never been more mine than she is right now.

ROXY

The lights are off. The world is quiet. And I’m wrapped in the arms of a man I once tried to divorce text after a pitcher of premixed margaritas.

I’m not drunk anymore but I’m still spinning. From him .

From that look he gave me when I said “no exit strategy.”—before the shark incident. From the way he toasted me in front of everyone. From the way he slid that Ring Pop ring back on my finger—of the wrong hand—like it still means everything.

It does .

He’s lying next to me, naked and warm, one hand is tracing lazy circles on my hip. I shift closer and feel him harden the second my leg slips between his and my knee brushes against him. “You’re insatiable,” I whisper.

“I’m yours. ” He replies.

Oh… sweet baby Jesus.

That answer.

It gets me every time.

Rolling on top of him, I straddle his hips and lower my lips to his ear. Blowing into the shell of it, I whisper, “I want you to wreck me , baby.”

He groans, but I don’t stop there. I rub against him, coating us both in the evidence of my need. I moan as his cock head bumps my clit, “But do it soft and slow. Worship me like you’re afraid I’ll disappear.”

His hands grip my hips, anchoring me as his lips and tongue move up my throat. His breath is already raspy as he asks, “You sure?”

Nodding, I move against him again. I’m so wet and he’s so hard, he just sinks in as I lower myself onto him. As I reach the base of his cock, I say the one thing I’ve never said in bed before. “Make love to me, Chase.”

The pulse in his throat jumps. And then, he does.

It’s different this time.

No hair-pulling. No bed-breaking. No coming together so hard and furious that our skin slaps. This is love. This is just connection.

His lips don’t leave my skin. His voice doesn’t leave my ear but sends a shiver down my spine as he whispers, “You’re perfect, Roxy.” My heart fills. He continues to move. In and out of me. “You’re mine, baby. I’d wait forever to touch you like this again.”

I cry. Not loud. Not ugly. Just two tears—quiet, reverent.

He catches them with his lips, kisses them away, and continues to move inside me like it’s a privilege.

We finish together. Whispering each other’s names like prayers we finally remembered. Then, we lie tangled in silence. His arms are wrapped around me. My hand is on his chest. And something so sweet and meaningful is between us that I almost can’t breathe.

“I don’t want to go back,” I whisper.

“To our life outside of this? Or to the way things were before?” he asks.

I sigh. “Both, I guess. But we have to leave here eventually. And I have to get back to work. Melody is amazing and fully capable, but it’s my business and Mari Lynn is so busy with Knox and all of their fame.”

He’s quiet. Then, he says, “We do. We have jobs and responsibilities. But we also have each other Rox. I was never going anywhere. I think you get that now.” He kisses my head and hugs me tighter.

“Things can be like this when we go back home. As long as we’re together and you trust in my love, we can keep this alive. ”

I blink. “Together?”

He smiles, “Always. Let’s rewrite it all, Roxy. Start where the story got good again.”

Just like that… we can start again.

We’re leaving tomorrow. Everyone else is about to head out after brunch.

For once, I don’t feel like running. I feel… settled. Happy, content, and stupidly in love… with my husband.

It’s weird.

This is me.

And I don’t settle—I explode.

But here I am, barefoot on the deck, wearing his hoodie and sipping coconut coffee while palming an affirmation crystal Sasha passed out at first light.

Chase walks out of the house, shirtless, of course. The sun is hitting him like a spotlight and his art-covered muscles are on display like he’s a gallery piece.

Mine… that is all mine.

How the hell did I get so lucky?

Standing, I set my coffee down and trail my fingers up his abs. He smiles as I lean up on my tip-toes and kiss him.

A bit later, he makes fried chicken and waffles and dribbles syrup on my shoulder before licking it off.

We do a final trust exercise and don’t even cheat.

Growth.

After brunch, everyone’s crying.

Bree reads a poem about love and saltwater.

Miguel announces he and Sasha are starting a couples’ podcast called “ Make Out or Move On. ”

Trent and Whitney hug us for too long and whisper things like “Thank you for being horny and vulnerable,” and, “You inspired us to let out our inner freaks.”

Uh… weird.

Chase thanks them for the sentiments.

I absolutely do not.

Because what the actual fuck?

The van arrives.

The other couples all toss their bags in the back.

Sasha gives everyone one last gift—some moonstone bullshit and a handwritten card that says, “You are the storm and the calm.”

Chase leans in and whispers, “You’re the hurricane and the high tide.”

I retort, “You’re the reason I can’t keep furniture in one place.”

He grins, “You’re the reason I’m going to be bald or completely gray before I’m thirty.”

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “My magical pussy is the reason your face is so hydrated.”

We’re disgusting.

It’s perfect.

We spend the remainder of the day, and the night, just us. Loving, laughing, and having wild sex in inappropriate places.

The sun is up, the beach house is empty of our things and it’s time to head home.

Just before we leave—in my Jeep because Chase took an Uber here with the sole intention of coming home with me at the end of the retreat—I stop, pull out my phone, and do the thing I’ve been dying to do since our chat earlier in the week.

I text Mari Lynn.

Roxy

It’s 9:12AM on Sunday. Still married. Definitely not naked. Right now.

Might’ve licked banana bread off his abs. He cried during eye contact sex.

Almost threw a chair at my ex. And a shark tried to eat Chase’s penis.

Retreat was a success.

Tequila and a debrief sesh needed ASAP.

She replies almost instantly.

Mari Lynn

I just screamed into a linen pillow.

At the condo. LA was exhausting but it always is.

Get your asses here.

I’m saving you a margarita, a hug, and a tiny bikini you’re definitely wearing.

And I want Every. Damn. Detail.

Oh, and everything is all good at work. Melody is the best. She needs a raise.

I grin and slip my phone into my bag while looking at Chase. “You ready to crash someone else’s party before we head back to the real world?”

He lifts a brow and grins. “I was born ready to steal the spotlight.”