The door to our room clicked shut behind us, the sound echoing in the quiet house. For a moment, I just stood there, my hand still on the doorknob, looking at her. Megan. My wife.
My wife.
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, harder than I expected. This was supposed to be a contract, a business deal, a way to keep my family's claws out of my life.
But standing here, in this room, with her looking at me in that soft, almost unsure way, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something had changed.
She smiled, a small, almost shy smile, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest. How the hell had we gotten here?
"You okay?" she asked, her voice quiet, like she didn't want to break whatever strange tension had settled between us.
I forced myself to move, to step away from the door and closer to her. "Yeah," I said, but my voice sounded rough, unsure. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I'm good."
She watched me, her eyes wide and searching, like she was trying to read me, to understand what was going on inside my head. And I wished I could tell her.
I wished I could explain the way my chest tightened every time she looked at me, the way my pulse raced whenever she touched me. But I didn't know how to explain it, not even to myself.
We were supposed to be playing a role, pretending. But this... this didn't feel like pretending anymore.
Megan took a step toward me, closing the small distance between us, her hands reaching for mine. Her touch was soft, gentle, and it sent a jolt of electricity through me. I sucked in a sharp breath.
"I know we didn't plan any of this," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But... it feels real, doesn't it?"
I stared at her, my heart pounding hard in my chest. It did. And I didn't know what to do with that.
I didn't answer her with words. I couldn't—my throat felt too tight, too full of things I didn't understand. Instead, I pulled her closer, my hands finding her waist, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of her dress.
She gasped softly but didn't pull away. She leaned into me, her body fitting against mine like it was meant to be there.
My lips found hers almost instinctively, like I needed to kiss her, to feel her, to lose myself in her. The kiss started slowly, tentative, but it didn't stay that way for long.
It deepened, became something more urgent, more desperate, and I wasn't sure if I was trying to pull her closer or if I was the one who needed to be held.
Her hands slid up my chest, her fingers slipping under the lapels of my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders. It fell to the floor with a soft thud, but I barely heard it.
All I could focus on was her—her touch, her warmth, the way her breath hitched every time our bodies pressed together.
We were moving, my hands guiding her toward the bed, her fingers deftly working at the buttons of my shirt. It wasn't rushed, but it wasn't slow either.
It was... deliberate. Like we both knew what was about to happen, like we both wanted it, needed it.
When her back hit the edge of the bed, I paused, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her hair was a little messy now, the curls falling loose around her face.
Her lips were swollen from kissing, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes... God, her eyes. They were dark, filled with something I couldn't name but felt deep in my chest.
She looked beautiful. Too beautiful.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Megan..."
She didn't let me finish. She tugged at my shirt, pulling it the rest of the way off, and I let her. My hands found the zipper of her dress, and as I slowly pulled it down, revealing more of her skin, more of her, I felt like I was falling.
Like this was more than I had bargained for. More than I had ever expected.
The dress slipped off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and I couldn't stop myself from staring. She was bare before me, vulnerable, and yet she didn't look afraid.
She looked... strong. Confident. Like she knew exactly what she wanted.
And right now, she wants me.
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip, and she leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering shut. I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the feeling of her mouth on mine, the way her body pressed against me, soft and warm and perfect.
We moved together, falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets, our bodies finding a rhythm that felt easy, natural. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness. Just us. Just this.
When I finally entered her, it was like something clicked into place, like I had been waiting for this moment without even realizing it.
Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into my shoulders, and I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself. But it was hard. It was so damn hard, because this didn't feel like just sex. This felt like more. Like everything.
Tonight was different. Megan was my wife.
We moved together, slow and deliberate, our bodies finding a rhythm that felt like it had always been there, waiting for this moment.
Her hands roamed over my back, my shoulders, my neck, and every touch sent a spark of heat through me, a fire that burned hotter with every second.
I couldn't stop kissing her—her lips, her neck, her shoulders. I wanted to memorize every inch of her, every curve, every gasp, every shudder. I wanted to make her feel everything she made me feel—wanted, needed, loved.
Loved.
The thought shook me to my core, and I froze, my body tensing above hers. Loved? Was that what this was? Was that what I was feeling?
Megan's fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me back to her, and I pushed the thought away, losing myself in her again.
I couldn't think about that right now. All I could focus on was her, on this moment, on the way she felt against me, around me.
When we finally collapsed together, our bodies spent, our breathing heavy and uneven, I rolled onto my side, pulling her close. She fit perfectly against me, her head resting on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.
For a long time, neither of us spoke. We just lay there, tangled in the sheets, in each other.
I stared up at the ceiling, my heart still pounding in my chest, my mind racing with thoughts I wasn't ready to face. This was supposed to be a business arrangement, a deal. It wasn't supposed to feel like this.
Megan sighed softly, her breath warm against my skin, and I glanced down at her. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful, her lips curved into a small, content smile. She looked happy. She looked... mine.
And that scared me to the core.
I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking. What was this? What were we doing? Was I really falling for her? Had I already fallen? And what the hell did that mean for our contract? For everything we had planned?
The line between what was fake and what was true had blurred so much, I couldn't tell the difference anymore. And I didn't know what to do about it.
I lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, my mind a mess of thoughts and questions and emotions I wasn't ready to deal with. Every time I looked at her, every time I felt her breath against my skin, I felt something tighten in my chest. Something that scared the hell out of me.
Because I knew, deep down, that this wasn't just a deal anymore.
I fell for her. I loved her. There was no used denying it.
And I had no idea what to do about it.