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Trent’s not a dirty talker, so hearing him lose it spurs me on.

“Let’s do it,” I urge. “It doesn’t even have to be the chaplain.

” I always imagined a religious ceremony, but I’m so damn desperate.

“Camille got ordained on the internet. They’ll come back here if I ask them to. She and Eve can be witnesses.”

I’m not even sure if he’s hearing me, since he’s kissing the back of my ear. He nibbles the lobe, his warm breath coasting over my skin. The hand on my ass grips me tighter, while the one on my breast makes me mindless.

Fuck, that feels good.

“Sara, sweetheart.” The need in his voice lights a fuse in my core.

“Right there with you, babe.” I grind on his fly, chasing my climax.

I’m already so close to coming. “We’ll get married in secret,” I breathe.

“Then we’ll spend the rest of the night fucking like rabbits.

No one will know. We’ll have the wedding we planned in just a few weeks, but in the meantime, you and I will have this delicious, dirty little secret just for us. ”

“Wait.” He jerks back and searches my eyes. “You’re serious right now.”

“Dead serious.” This isn’t the first time I’ve suggested not waiting for marriage.

But it’s the first time I’ve had such an excellent workaround. The first time I’ve wanted him this badly.

The twitch of his cock tells me Trent wants it, too. Shifting my hips, I give him a taste of what could be. What could happen tonight if only he would agree to my plan.

“Please, baby.” Biting my lip, I slide my hands up his bare chest. His heart drums my palms as I look into the eyes of the man I’ve loved since I was fourteen years old. “I want you so much.”

Trent closes his eyes and I watch his throat roll as he swallows. “I want you, too.”

“Then let’s do it. Please. It’ll be our little secret. We’ll sign the license and have our own little private ceremony right here. When we walk down the aisle in four weeks, we’ll have this naughty little hush-hush dirty secr?—”

“Sara, no.” When he opens his eyes, I see the fierce Navy SEAL who’s conditioned for order and discipline. “We can’t.”

The rejection stings, but the throb of his cock says he wants me. Maybe he needs just a little more coaxing.

“I’m not that drunk.” My sex-addled brain scrambles to fend off his arguments. “And if we make it legal first?—”

“Secrets are poison.” He shakes his head slowly, looking tortured and hollow. “Secrets wreck lives.”

I blink.

That’s his argument?

“But—”

“Sara, I want you.” He squeezes his eyes shut and cradles my hips, shifting me off his lap. I scramble to tug down my dress and stay upright. “I’ve always wanted you,” he continues. “I’ve wanted you since marshmallows.”

Marshmallows.

He means the first day we met. Trent was the cadet colonel of our school’s Junior ROTC and ran an orientation icebreaker pairing seniors with incoming freshmen.

I didn’t discover until months later that he ordered another cadet to switch spots for the privilege of building a marshmallow structure with me.

We won first place and Trent got my number.

But back to this current rejection.

Reseating myself right beside him, I tug down my dress and put a hand on his bicep. “Trent?”

“Yeah?” He’s not making eye contact now. He stares at my bare thigh, which his big hand covers like he’s claiming me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Still no eye contact. Something’s very wrong.

“Honey?” My heart starts to gallop, and not for the reasons it’s raced since I got here. “Talk to me, Trent.”

He draws in a breath and looks up. His golden eyes look tortured, but sincere. “You have no idea how badly I want you right now.”

“Uh, I might have a clue.” I glance at the damp spot I left on his pants. “I was just trying to get creative with when we’re legally married.”

That’s how it works here in Oregon. We just need the license, a ceremony of some sort, and two witnesses. Totally do-able tonight.

Since Trent isn’t speaking, I try pleading my case one more time. “If we’re secretly married a few weeks before?—”

“I can’t.” He bolts off the couch, raking both hands through his buzzcut. As Trent starts to pace, his breathing gets labored and rough. “Secrets are no way to start off a marriage.”

My gin-addled brain feels sluggish and weird. I watch the man walk back and forth in front of me, a reaction that seems so bizarre.

Something’s not adding up here.

“Um, Trent?”

“Yeah?” He keeps right on pacing.

“Did something happen with one of the strippers?” It’s a wild guess, but he freezes like I’ve accused him of spying for foreign enemies.

“Absolutely not.”

I believe him. “Okay.”

So what is it? What’s wrong?

“Honey?”

“What?”

“Could you stop pacing and talk to me?” This is starting to scare me. “I hear you, okay? We can wait another four weeks. Let’s just—fool around a little.”

“Fuck.” He’s gritting his teeth, not hearing me at all as he paces. “Fuck, fuck, fuck .”

“Trent?” This is freaking me out now. I hold out a hand, hoping to coax him back to the couch. “It’s all right,” I insist. “I can wait a few weeks for the full-meal deal.”

Trent stops pacing and stares at my hand. Slowly, like it pains him to look at me, his eyes lift to mine.

I’ve never seen such a haunted expression. Not even the time he returned from a mission in Yemen that I knew had gone wrong. He’s never allowed to share details, but a woman knows.

Which is how I know what’s coming. I feel it in my bones, an ache that almost doubles me over.

Then his eyelids fall shut and he utters the words that flip my whole world upside down.

“I can’t do this, Sara,” he says as his throat bobs. “We can’t get married.”

Three weeks later, I’m sitting with Eve and Camille in our favorite spot at Olive or Twist. They’re drinking cocktails while I sip kombucha and frown at the app on Camille’s phone.

“What’s this?” I tap a pink nail to one menu selection, turning the screen so she can read it. “Shibari—what is that?”

“Bondage.” Camille takes a sip of her drink. “It’s an ancient form of Japanese bondage using silk ropes and artful tying skills. It’s uh—maybe not where you want to start out.”

“Oh.” I’m getting a peek at the app that’s only available to guests of the Jilted Brides Honeymoon Club. Registered guests, or women who’ve been there before.

I’m still deciding whether to join their ranks.

Eve touches my arm as sympathy fills her green eyes. “Did you like what you read about the virginity packages at Crystal Bliss?”

Shrugging, I set down my glass. I’ve laid off the gin since the night of my party, but the back of my tongue tastes sour.

“The packages sound fine,” I mumble, setting Camille’s phone on the table.

“I feel weird about the resort’s requirement that I meet with someone beforehand to discuss my issues .

” That’s my word, not theirs, but the implication’s there.

“Can’t I just go to the Jilted Brides Honeymoon Club and get banged senseless like you did? ”

Camille answers that one, since she’s engaged to the owner of the luxury sex resort. “Ash says they take extra precautions to make sure virgin jilted brides are emotionally prepared for the experience.”

“Fuck that.” Gritting my teeth, I glare at her phone. “I’m so tired of other people controlling my sexual decisions.”

“Totally understandable.” Eve squeezes my arm, then picks up her drink. “You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

Except I kinda do. “My parents bought us the honeymoon package. They agreed to let me keep the credit, but?—”

“Ah,” Camille says as understanding dawns. “You’re afraid they’ll take it back if they know how you plan to use it?”

“Pretty much.” I still can’t believe I’m considering it. Me, a woman engaged to my best friend since forever. A woman who did everything right.

How could this happen?

Trent couldn’t explain. Wouldn’t is more like it.

The very next day, he flew out for a last-minute op.

Some top-secret military mission he couldn’t tell me about.

Nothing new there, except for the text that came the next day confirming our wedding was off.

That he intended to pay all the bills for it, but that I shouldn’t try to reach him. He said he was sorry.

Fucking sorry . After nearly a decade together.

Eve sets down her glass. “How are your parents doing, anyway?”

“They’re heartbroken.” They loved Trent like a son. “Kinda mad. A little confused that I’m talking about taking a trip by myself.”

I haven’t exactly told them about the sex resort. As far as they know, I’d be using the credit for some run-of-the-mill tropical trip.

“Trent’s already paid for the photographer and the church.

” I pick up my glass and mutter the words into my kombucha.

“We’re still haggling with the caterer and one of the musicians and—” Tears spring to my eyes as I face the finality of it all.

“I still can’t believe it. I don’t even know where he went. ”

Camille hands me a tissue. “I know it’s not easy,” she says softly. “At least you’re used to that part. Trent’s never been able to tell you where he’s deployed.”

That’s true. “I thought I was used to the secretive nature of being married to a Navy SEAL.” I wince. “ Not married. You know what I mean.”

“We do.” Eve’s smile is gentle. “Makes sense he’d have to keep secrets about taking down terrorists and spying on bad guys.”

“I guess.” There’s that word again.

Secrets.

I still don’t get why that word seemed to trigger him.

Swiping my eyes with the tissue, I take a fortifying sip of kombucha. “You know what felt so good about that last night with Trent? I mean, before he said he couldn’t marry me.”

Camille offers another tissue. “What’s that?”

“Coming up with a workaround for premarital sex.” I still think my plan was a good one. “It felt amazing to take charge of my sexuality. To say ‘fuck it’ to letting our parents feel smug and superior for ushering two grown-ass virgins down the aisle like it’s some kind of parental achievement.”

Eve frowns. “I thought you said Trent wasn’t a virgin.”

“Whatever.” Waving a hand to dismiss this small detail, I accidentally signal a waiter. “Gin martini,” I call before lowering my voice to explain more to Eve.

“We agreed we’d never share details of what happened when we were apart during boot camp and BUD/S and pre-deployment training.

” I had three years of high school to finish, so I urged Trent to sow some wild oats.

At the end of that stretch, he came home and went straight to church with his mom.

We’ve never discussed what happened when we were apart.

“We’ve also split up a few times for his longer deployments. ”

“That’s right,” Eve says, snapping her fingers. “And after that last one, he came back and proposed.”

“Exactly.” Trent knew from the start that I wanted to wait until marriage. “We always said saving sex for our wedding night would make it special.”

Camille knows all this, and as a sex therapist, she tries not to judge.

“Sweetie.” That’s her not-judging voice.

“You know I respect your choices one thousand percent. I supported you waiting until marriage, and I support you now that you’re considering flying off to the Caribbean on some deflowering quest.”

I don’t miss her wince at that word choice. “I know ‘deflowering’ is a gross concept.” I get it, I do. “Virginity as a commodity in women feels sexist and old-fashioned and I’m a little embarrassed by the whole thing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” That’s Eve with her hand on my arm. “I grew up like you did. It’s hard to shake the notion of what you’re supposed to do.”

That’s exactly how I wound up a twenty-three-year-old virgin.

“I thought Trent was the one.” I swallow back tears, along with a sip of the icy martini that magically appears in front of me.

“It felt special to wait for each other. But if he doesn’t want me, then it feels like I need to reclaim my sexuality. ”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” Camille considers me. “Just please keep in mind that sex isn’t only about putting a penis in a vagina.”

“Ugh.” I suck down more gin. “Can we please not talk like we’re in eighth grade health class?”

She chuckles and picks up her own drink.

“You’re right. My point is that ‘sex’”—she makes air quotes on that one—“runs a huge gamut from oral to anal to digital penetration, or even no penetration at all. There are so many gender expressions and sexual identities and ways to rub two bodies together.”

“Or three bodies.” Eve smirks over the rim of her glass. “Or four. Or?—”

“I know.” It’s thanks to these friends that I’m even aware there’s so much to explore.

“I also know my Aunt Ava’s ‘roommate’ isn’t really her roommate, even if my parents pretend she is.

” My dad’s oldest sister has a chilly relationship with the rest of the family, but I adore Ava and her partner.

“I wouldn’t call her a virgin, even if she’s never had sex with a man. ”

“Exactly.” Camille looks pleased that I get it. She hands me her phone and restarts the app for the Jilted Brides Honeymoon Club. “All I’m saying is you don’t have to jump on the first dick you see when you get there.”

Eve snorts into her glass. “The oral enchantments were some of my favorites. And the happy ending massages…” She trails off with a wink at Camille. “I’ll stop now.”

“It’s fine.” Camille snorts. “I’m fully aware you’ve explored all your sexual fantasies with my brother. And that’s what I’m hoping for for Sara.”

I frown. “You want me to bang Kit?” Eve might have something to say about that.

“I want you to explore . To discover what you want and how to go after it.” Camille folds her hands on the table. “Don’t rush right to the main event. Give yourself time to find out what truly excites you.”

“I do like the sound of that.” That’s why, if I go, I’ll book more than a week. Maybe ten days or even two weeks.

Lifting my gaze, I look from Eve to Camille. “Okay.”

Eve brightens. “Okay what?”

“Okay, I’m going.” I swallow and wait for the words to sink in. A bright little tingle starts at the base of my spine and swells up. “I’m going to the Jilted Brides Honeymoon Club. ”

Camille puts her hand over mine. “You call the shots, Sara. This is your chance to learn what you want.”

Trent.

I don’t say that out loud, but he’s what I want. Deep down inside, for as long as I’ve lived, I’ve only hungered for him.

But Trent’s not an option, so I pick up my drink and draw back my shoulders. “I’m ready,” I tell them. “Let’s toast to new beginnings.”

The clink of our glasses sends the sharp sting of tears to the back of my throat. But I swallow them down, steeling myself for whatever’s to come.

For a future I can’t wrap my head around now.