Page 116 of The Americana Playbook

My eyes drift down my body, where I barely make out the tip of the ink peeking over the edge of the towel. “It’s not really your business,” I say. “It’s not really anyone’s.”

“Fitz.” Nick sighs. “You’re America’s husband now. Like it or not, it’s everyone’s business.”

For the restof the week, I focus on two things—dating my husband and spending time with my lover while my husband is at work. The former, unfortunately, is harder than I thought it would be for a few reasons. One, it was never part of the plan. And two, as camp nears, Fitz seems busier than ever, cramming in a last minute ad campaign he flew to and from Chicago for, and, of course, spending hours on end at the Rebels facility.

The truth is, I don’t mind to anextent. Because between Fitz being busy at work, and me on hiatus from campaign life, I get uninterrupted time with Bernard. But where I do mind? In the bedroom.

I know I don’t exactly have a typical marriage. Depending on who you ask, it’s fraudulent for one thing. And two, feelings cameafterthe decision to get married was made.

But they arerealfeelings. And that’s what Fitz wants—realness. So I’m at a loss as to why, having been both his girlfriend and wife for more than a week, it feels like since we came back to Vegas, I’ve been sort of friendzoned.

Maybe that’s a little dramatic. You don’t kiss your friends, or grab their asses, or touch and play the way we do. But Fitz won’t give me more than that, even though I can feel, as we fall asleep in my room downstairs, that he wants to.

I’ve taken matters into my own hands this morning.

“Oh, you made coffee.” I stretch my arms above my head as I yawn. The movement makes my already open robe a little more obvious, and what’s more obvious is the red lacy bra and thong I wear. He might be the seasoned quarterback, but clearly I’m on offense here.

Fitz passes me a mug before he fills his travel thermos. “Hope it’s not too strong. I lost track of how many scoops I put in.”

Scoops of coffee, I think to myself.He’s talking about scoops of coffee.

I leave the mug on the counter and lean forward. “That’s alright,” I blow on it. “I could use a littlekick.”

Still nothing.

Fitz opens another cabinet and takes two protein bars out of a box. “Nick’s passing by. Have some paperwork for him I had to sign before I’m off to the facility.” He motions to a folder on the table. “Speaking of which, what about the marriage license and the court?”

“I can’t file it until thirty days after it was issued. Why? Are you planning to divorce me already?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “I mean, maybe you should. We already have a dead bedroom.”

He narrows his eyes. “A dead bedroom?”

“You know, when married couples don’t have sex.”

Fitz’s eyes lock on mine.

“Lack of intimacy is a real killer,” I tell him. “There’s no coming back from that.”

He puts down the protein bars. “Is that right?”

“I’m clearly more invested in this than you are,” I motion down. “This has gone pretty unnoticed.”

Fitz raises an eyebrow. There’s that tornado in his eyes. “Unnoticed?” He challenges from across the island.

The deepening of his voice makes me shiver. “Y-you haven’t touched me since that night.”

Biting his lip, Fitz rounds the island toward me. I turn under his stare so the marble presses into my lower back.

“I’d hardly call it unnoticed,” he says, arching over me. The movement forces me to lean back, and I slip, yelping when Fitz’s hand slides to my ass, keeping me upright and against him. I gasp when his hardness presses against to me. “I woke up like this.”

I bite my lip. “I want to touch you. I wanted to that night.”

I reach forward, lifting the hem of his shirt.

“You did,” he purrs. “Have you forgotten? I’m putty in your hands.”

I lean forward, smiling against his lips, dragging the smirk up his cheek and to his ear. “Then you should see what you’d be in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” Fitz slides his hands under the robe, and he groans when he kneads the nude flesh of my ass cheeks. “That’s why we need to wait.”

---