Page 40 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

She grabs a croissant, sits down, takes a sip of coffee, and says, “If anyone needs a relationship coach, I’ve decided to retire from running and start wrecking people’s expectations of love instead. My rates are high. My advice is questionable. My husband comes with me.” Casually, like she’s ordering brunch.

Miguel chokes. Trent mumbles something about needing therapy after this retreat.

Sasha raises her cup and toasts her, “To second chances—and knowing when to stop pretending you’re not madly in love with your husband. I’m so damn good.”

Roxy clinks glasses with her. “Cheers, bitch.”

The rest of breakfast is a blur.

Mostly because I can’t stop watching the ring she slipped back on her finger last night move as she steals bites of my pancakes and gives me filthy eyes over her coffee.

At one point, she texts me from across the table.

Roxy

When is this shit wrapping up? Can we leave early and do things that make Bree cry again?

I text back.

Chase

Tomorrow. And only if you keep the ring on while you sit on my face.

She doesn’t respond. But when I look up, she’s biting her lip.

After breakfast, she drags me out onto the deck under the pretense of “helping her rearrange the patio cushions.”

There are no cushions on the patio.

Just Roxy. The ocean. And what I hope is a very bold plan.

Turning to me, she takes both of my hands in hers. She slides the ring off her finger and my eyes widen.

What the hell? Put that damn thing back on.

Holding it up between us, she slips it back on to her finger, very slowly. Very intentionally. Her eyes stay locked on mine the entire time. She says, “I choose you, Chase. I choose us.”

I swallow. Hard. My voice is not calm as I ask, “You’re choosing me?”

She nods. Then, she smirks. “I also choose your abs. And that glorious dick.”

Alrighty then. I can handle that.

I smirk, “You better. This is the last dick that is ever going to fill any of your holes, babe.”

She snorts, but leans in. She kisses me. No crowd. No performance. Just her. Just me. Just a promise. Just us.

She breaks the kiss, “It’s not official until you give me an orgasm. We have to consummate it.”

I grin. “Is that right?”

Nodding, she glances over her shoulder. No one is around. She pulls me into the small alcove of the beach house that leads to the supply shed. “Uh huh. It’s a rule.”

I mutter, “You and your rules.” But I’m already peeling her shorts down.

I do as she asks.

CHAPTER 6

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