Page 49 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

So am I.

I pull out the ring. The first one. The Ring Pop base. Our real beginning. I slide it onto her other hand. “I loved you from the moment I saw you, Roxy West. Before your first insult. Before my first Roxy headache. Before our Vegas wedding. And through all of the chaos since that day. I’ll love you long after the rest of this burns.”

She makes a sound I can’t name. Then, tackles me, right into the chair and straddles me in front of everyone. “The blow job you’re getting tonight is going to have you forgetting your name.”

That’s my Roxy.

Trent drops his drink and mutters to Whitney, “Babe, take note.”

Sasha whispers, “Sweet mercy, I need to sage this patio before we leave tomorrow morning.”

I just kiss my wife because she’s never been more mine than she is right now.

ROXY

* * *

The lights are off. The world is quiet. And I’m wrapped in the arms of a man I once tried to divorce text after a pitcher of premixed margaritas.

I’m not drunk anymore but I’m still spinning. From him.

From that look he gave me when I said “no exit strategy.”—before the shark incident. From the way he toasted me in front of everyone. From the way he slid that Ring Pop ring back on my finger—of the wrong hand—like it still means everything.

It does.

He’s lying next to me, naked and warm, one hand is tracing lazy circles on my hip. I shift closer and feel him harden the second my leg slips between his and my knee brushes against him. “You’re insatiable,” I whisper.

“I’m yours.” He replies.

Oh… sweet baby Jesus.

That answer.

It gets me every time.

Rolling on top of him, I straddle his hips and lower my lips to his ear. Blowing into the shell of it, I whisper, “I want you to wreck me, baby.”

He groans, but I don’t stop there. I rub against him, coating us both in the evidence of my need. I moan as his cock head bumps my clit, “But do it soft and slow. Worship me like you’re afraid I’ll disappear.”

His hands grip my hips, anchoring me as his lips and tongue move up my throat. His breath is already raspy as he asks, “You sure?”

Nodding, I move against him again. I’m so wet and he’s so hard, he just sinks in as I lower myself onto him. As I reach the base of his cock, I say the one thing I’ve never said in bed before. “Make love to me, Chase.”

The pulse in his throat jumps. And then, he does.

It’s different this time.

No hair-pulling. No bed-breaking. No coming together so hard and furious that our skin slaps. This is love. This is just connection.

His lips don’t leave my skin. His voice doesn’t leave my ear but sends a shiver down my spine as he whispers, “You’re perfect, Roxy.” My heart fills. He continues to move. In and out of me. “You’re mine, baby. I’d wait forever to touch you like this again.”

I cry. Not loud. Not ugly. Just two tears—quiet, reverent.

He catches them with his lips, kisses them away, and continues to move inside me like it’s a privilege.

We finish together. Whispering each other’s names like prayers we finally remembered. Then, we lie tangled in silence. His arms are wrapped around me. My hand is on his chest. And something so sweet and meaningful is between us that I almost can’t breathe.

“I don’t want to go back,” I whisper.

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