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AIDEN

Tristan

Those photos from last night were really something

Whit

Was he…drunk?

What is happening over there?

I don’t speak to you for one day and you all lose your ever-loving minds

*Tristan has added Emory to the conversation*

Emory

What is this?

Tristan

We need the scoop

Whit

Welcome to hell

Emory

I know all about hell. I’m married to one of you, remember?

Whit

Oh, I like you

Sienna

Get your own, Whittaker

She’s mine

Aiden

Technically, she’s mine

Tristan

So you ARE alive

That’s good

Aiden

It really isn’t

Release me from this mortal coil

I wake in the morning with a pounding head and a gritty mouth. I shut my eyes against the light slicing in through the windows before I turn over, searching for the cool side of the bed. My hand lands in a warm divot in the foam mattress.

Emory.

My lids lift. Emory was here.

She stayed.

And I was too drunk to realize it. Or do anything about it. I groan and scrub my palms down my face. I want her so badly. Did I tell her that? I think I did.

Red. My wife. Meant for me.

I am an idiot.

“I’m not going in there. It’s cold.”

“Best thing for a hangover is a bracing swim.” I push my pants down and start unbuttoning my shirt.

Emory rolls her eyes. “I’m not hungover, but you are.”

Her hair streams in the breeze. It’s the perfect day for sailing—hot, bright, and breezy.

We’re anchored in the middle of the bay, where at least a hundred other boats are anchored too.

It’s the mid-summer party thrown by the Starboard Slide.

Every yacht on the Eastern Seaboard is here, and there are dinghies going back and forth from the barge with the dance floor and the open bar. Music pulses into the July humidity.

“Your funeral,” I say, stalking forward.

Her eyes widen. “No, Aiden, no. I like this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another.”

She scowls and plants her hands, like that will help her. I grab her around the waist, and she shrieks. My hand lands on her butt, firm, squeezing, and she swallows another yelp.

“Behave,” I growl. “In you go.”

I reach the stern, where there’s a platform for sunbathing—or tossing one’s wife into the water.

“Aiden, no. I hate being wet. I’m like a cat. Or the wicked witch. I’ll melt.”

“Very believable, Em. Keep it up.”

She growls one of those cute little growls. “I hate you.”

I set her down on the edge of the platform. I grin at her. “Yeah, I hear it turns you on.” Her eyes fly wide. I scoop her up and hold her over the water. “I’ll be gentle, baby. I promise.”

And then I toss her in. She comes up sputtering, eyes flashing, before she says “Aiden, I can’t—” and goes back under the water.

I’m already diving in, grabbing for any part of her I can find, hauling her against me. “I’m sorry, Em. Shit, I’m so—”

But then I see her smiling. “Don’t mess with me, golden boy.” Her smile widens as my hands tighten on her. “I bite back.”

“I really wish you would.” I say the words without thinking, but her sharp inhale sends need spiking through me.

Her hair is plastered to her head, and her eyes look huge and luminous in the shadow cast by the boat. It’s cool and dim, even though, three feet from us, it’s hot and loud.

I’m treading water with her pressed against me, and every kick of my legs brings her closer—slick skin and warm limbs, soft but strong.

She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Always has been. I want her so much. More than I ever thought possible.

Her foot slips against my calf, then wraps around my leg. Her pale pink dress is transparent now, sticking to her wet skin, like a scrap of fabric in a Renaissance painting, enticing in how little it covers.

And beneath it, a red bikini.

“Red.” I swallow hard. “You wear this on purpose?” I pluck at the string at her neck.

“You remember,” she whispers. Her eyes look like the bluest part of a flame as they search my face.

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. I shift her against my thigh, treading water for both of us so she doesn’t have to work. I could do this all day, as long as she doesn’t let me go. “Why wouldn’t I remember?”

“You were very drunk,” she says dryly. “You said something about having an extra leg.”

I give her a cheeky smile. “Move three inches to the left and find out.”

Her eyes fly wide before she chokes a laugh and buries her face in my shoulder. “I’m tempted.”

“You are?” God, me too. I love the idea of tempting her. I love that I’m the one she’s weak for.

“I hate these rules we’ve made.” Her voice is muffled. “I keep telling myself if I put my desire for you in a box, that it can’t escape. Instead, it makes me think about you all the time.”

My stomach jumps. “I know exactly how you feel.” My thumb lands on her jaw before I find her lip and trace the edge. “I talked myself out of wanting you this morning,” I tell her.

Her lips curl under my thumb. “Did it work?”

“Not really. I took a cold shower. I redrew all those lines in my head.”

“I hate those lines,” she whispers.

Something fires inside me. “I hate them too,” I whisper back.

“Here?” she asks, tipping her head to the boats surrounding us.

Desire punches me in the stomach. “Just to be clear,” I say, my head feeling light. “You’re propositioning me?”

She grins before she sets her lips to my ear. “I’m saying you should be inside me already.” She turns for the ladder and hoists herself up.

I tread water, willing my body to calm, willing the ocean to cool me.

I’m not supposed to keep sleeping with my wife.

I’m not supposed to want her.

There’s a slap as her dress lands on the deck.

Fuck it.