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GRIFFIN

What the hell did I just do?

My mind races as I fist my dick in the shower. I’m so fucking turned on from the sight and taste of Mira that I won’t last more than a minute or two. Hell, I was about ready to come from eating her out, none of Mira’s hands, lips, or tongue on my dick necessary.

But crazier than that? I married my best friend’s little sister in Las Vegas, while drunk, slept naked with her, then ate her out while he’s a few rooms away. Am I trying to get myself murdered? Because that’s a distinct possibility.

Focus, Wright .

What am I going to do? And why the hell did I tell Mira I won’t divorce her?

What’s the plan here? After Carissa all but laughed in my face when I proposed to her in college, I resigned myself to the fact that marriage wasn’t in the cards for me.

She was the third woman I’d dated since freshman year who had her fun with the hockey player, dumped my ass mercilessly by the six-month mark, and then got engaged to some other dude less than six months later.

They all made it perfectly clear that I was last-fling material, not forever material. A message that I took to heart after my high school and college experiences.

So why did waking up married to Mira feel like a second chance at breaking my curse?

Yeah, I’ve been attracted to her since day one.

And yeah, living with her has been the most exquisite torture, since she’s off-limits.

She’s beautiful, sexy as hell, and so damn smart.

Being around her is simultaneously like drinking four shots of espresso and taking a pot gummy.

She makes me feel energized and alive, but she also mellows me out in a way no one else ever has.

Waking up married is like a gift from the gods.

An excuse to hold on to her and see if we could be more than good friends who are not-so-secretly attracted to each other.

I pump my dick a little harder.

Yeah, I know Mira’s always been attracted to me.

I’ve seen the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m oblivious.

And maybe it was having Maddox as a cock-blocking buffer between us, but even though she’s always wanted my body, she’s never treated me like I’m some himbo piece of ass.

She actually sees me. She’s taken the time to get to know me.

It’s probably batshit crazy, but I truly think we could work together. I just have to convince her to give this a real shot.

A plan comes together in my head as I stroke my cock faster and faster.

I’ll make a deal with her. Six months. Six full months where we stay married and give this relationship a real chance.

I’ll ask her for six months to prove that not only are we perfect for each other, but that I can also check off all her boxes.

Mira wants a husband who meets a certain set of criteria.

So I’ll give it to her. I’ll be boring and responsible.

I’ll wear button-down shirts every day and read the newspaper in the morning instead of sports sites.

Mira wants someone dependable and straightlaced.

I can be that guy. Although the straightlaced part will be rough, I can do it. For her.

If, at the end of six months, she still wants a divorce, I’ll give it to her.

I’ll pay for everything and sign the papers without a fuss.

It will suck if that happens, but I want a shot with her, not to trap her.

And if we’re married, I’ll have an excuse to pay for everything and take care of her.

Give her a real chance to invest her time and money into her business.

Hell, I can be one of her first big clients.

I’ve seen the work she’s been doing and the mockups she’s created for smaller athletes and brands.

She’s a whiz at creating websites and branding, and she understands the needs of pro athletes because she grew up with one.

Six months. If I contested the divorce, things could be tied up in court much longer than that. And I’d never do that, but Mira doesn’t need to know. If I make it seem like I would, it may be enough to get her to agree.

My stomach tightens and tingles start at the base of my spine and in my balls. I picture Mira a few months from now. She writhes beneath me, happy and glowing, as she calls me her husband and tells me she’s in love with me.

My balls tighten as pleasure whips through my body in a tsunami.

Grunting, I pump my cock furiously as cum erupts from me and paints the shower wall.

Breathing heavily, I barely register that it’s the thought of Mira loving me that pushed me over the edge.

Not her sexy, toned body, not lust in her eyes, not the image of her breasts bouncing as I fuck her hard.

If I give it too much thought, I may rethink this batshit scheme because it’s obvious that this has the real potential to hurt me if it doesn’t work.

“Fuck.” I shudder as the last waves of my orgasm wash over me.

Mira is worth the risk.

I finish my shower and dry off before striding back out into my room with nothing but a towel wrapped around my hips. For a second, I worry she won’t be waiting for me. That she’ll run back to her room and pretend none of this ever happened.

But she’s sitting on the bed in last night’s clothes, her cheeks pink, wringing her hands in her lap.

I don’t miss the way her eyes darken with lust when she sees me, or the way her gaze lingers on the vee of my hips where it disappears beneath my low-slung towel.

She’s not unaffected by me. Which means I have a chance.

“Wife.” I grin when she rolls her eyes and purses her pretty lips. “Do you want to take a shower? You can wear some of my clothes, so you don’t have to walk around in last night’s outfit.”

Her cheeks flare a brighter shade of pink.

“I… Maybe. But first, we need to be serious for a minute.” She tracks me as I move toward my suitcase and pull out a clean pair of boxer briefs, jeans, and a simple white tee.

She lets out a strangled sound when I let the towel drop and step into my briefs.

“Sure. I agree. We do need to have a serious discussion.”

“Exactly,” she says. Her voice is strained, and I smirk, knowing I’m having this kind of effect on her.

“Now that we’ve both had a few minutes to cool down, I think we can agree that the only way forward is an annulment.

Or divorce. Whatever you want to call it, our only option is to undo what we did. ”

“I don’t agree, actually.” I pull the tee over my head, and my smirk grows into a full-fledged smile when she makes a frustrated little growl. “I’d like to propose an alternate plan.”

“Alternate plan?” She rises from the bed and stalks toward me. Her pretty green eyes spit fire, and damn, do I love seeing her like this. Full of life and passion. “Quit fucking around, Griffin. This isn’t funny anymore.”

I cross my arms. “I can assure you, Mrs. Wright, I’m not fucking around.

I wish I was, but you haven’t agreed to be my wife yet.

Unless you’re changing your mind?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

It takes all my self-restraint not to laugh when she splutters out some unintelligible, indignant sounds and shoves my chest.

“I’m not your wife, and I’m not going to be your wife. We were drunk, Griffin. We did what lots of drunk people do in Vegas. We got married in a stupid chapel and woke up with a hangover and regrets.”

“I don’t regret it,” I tell her honestly.

She gapes at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I ignore it, brushing a lock of her dark brown hair from her face.

“And I’d argue that sometimes the things you do when you’re drunk are things you really want but are too scared to admit to wanting when you’re sober. ”

Mira rolls her lips between her teeth as she stares up at me. Encouraged by her silence, I continue.

“So I propose we give this a real chance.” When she opens her mouth to argue, I forge ahead.

“Six months, Mira. I’m proposing that we give this marriage a real chance for six months.

We go on dates, explore our feelings for each other, sleep in the same bed, have meals together.

We stop fighting this pull between us and give in to it.

And if, at the end of the six months, you still don’t want to be married, I’ll sign the divorce papers without a single protest.”

Mira scoffs. “And you think Maddox is going to be okay with this?”

“No.” I scrub my hand over the back of my neck. “I think he’s going to kick my ass, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Well, I’m not! Why would I do this when I can just file divorce paperwork, Wright?”

I shrug. “You could do that. But going through the courts when both parties aren’t in agreement can take a hell of a lot longer than six months, wife. And if you do it that way, everyone will find out.”

The color drains from her face at that, and I try to ignore the guilt that twists my stomach. “Six months. I’m only asking for six months.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it’s crazy, but I really believe we could have something special.” I shrug like I’m not laying my heart on the line with that admission. Like I’m not ready to vomit, and it’s not because of the alcohol sloshing around in my gut.

Mira studies me for a long, agonizing moment. She weighs her options and runs through scenarios. I watch the thoughts play out across her features like a silent film. Finally, her shoulders sag. “If we do this, no one can know, Wright. I mean it. No one. ”

Hiding my disappointment at her stipulation, I nod. “Of course. We’ll keep it a secret. When we’re out with Maddox and our friends, we’ll act like we’re just roommates until you’re ready to tell them otherwise.”

She shakes her head. “Griffin, that’s not going to happen. We’re too different. We want different things in life.”

Do we, though? She believes that, but I suspect our secret hopes aren’t that dissimilar. Saying that to her now won’t do any good, though, so I keep my mouth shut and lift one shoulder. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“This is crazy,” she whispers, more to herself than me. “I must be losing my mind to agree to this.”

“Is that a yes, then, wife?”

“Stop calling me wife ,” she grumbles. “But yes. It’s a yes. Let the record show that it’s a yes under duress.”

I chuckle. “Noted.”

“You know this is a terrible idea, right?”

Probably. The thing is, I’m the one likely to end up hurt, not Mira. Which makes this a terrible idea I’m willing to risk it all on. “Terrible or genius?”

“Terrible.” She sighs, suddenly looking exhausted. “Look, I need to get back to my room before someone realizes I’m gone and they find me here. We can talk about this more at home.”

Home . It sounds different coming out of her mouth now that we’re married. And it also sparks a fantastic idea. I’ll have to give my housekeeper a call.

I take a step toward my gorgeous wife and nudge her chin up with the side of my finger. Her pupils expand, and I don’t miss the way her breath hitches. “Okay, beautiful wife. We can talk more about this at home. Are you sure you don’t want a pair of my sweats and a tee?”

She shakes her head, tongue tied.

“Okay, then. Go shower. We’re supposed to meet everyone for lunch before our flights home.

” I lean down to press a tender kiss to Mira’s lips, pleased when they part on an inhalation and she kisses me back.

It’s difficult, but I pull away before the kiss deepens.

Slow and steady. I’ll have to take this slow and steady if I want to win her over.

To prove I’m not just some fuckboy who’s only good for one thing.

This may not have been a part of my plan, but it feels right, and I won’t screw this up.

“See you soon, wife.”

Mira shakes her head slightly, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

She turns on her heel and leaves, my laughter trailing after her.