Page 29 of Her Billion Dollar Groom

We both smell like we need a shower, but I don’t care.

“That was good for you, right? You enjoyed it?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “Of course, I enjoyed it.”

“I try my best.”

“Did you?”

“Enjoy it? Yes. Yes, I did.”

There’s a pause filled only with the sound of us breathing. “Jason,” she whispers, then hesitates, tensing next to me.

“What is it?”

“I’m glad we did this.”

“You are?” My heart could easily thump out of my rib cage right now. I’m sure she can feel it in there, beating. I’m sure she can hear it, it’s pounding loudly enough.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I say and mean it. “Of course I am.”

“I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. I think we had a lot of tension we needed to release, didn’t we?” I nod in slow agreement, not one hundred percent certain where she’s going with this. “I think it was good for us both to get some of that out. It’s definitely one of the better getting-over-a-breakup benders I’ve ever been on.”

I hum softly, not sure what to say to that. Something about her describing us as post-breakup fun makes my stomach twist inknots. I know that basically is all we are, but I guess stupidly, I started to think of us as a couple. Not romantically, necessarily, but a pair of people committed to the same goal.

That’s what a couple is at the end of the day, isn’t it? Two people who have made an agreement with each other that they want the same things.

The issue is that I’m not sure that we do want the same thing anymore. I’m starting to worry that what I want is more than she’ll ever want to give me. This was fun to her, nothing more. I’m worried that it has started to be more than that for me.

She rolls over to face me properly, and I have to hold myself back from kissing her perfect lips again. Her face is still flushed from our exertion, her usually flawless hair frizzy and out of place. Her lips are red from the blood that’s been rushing through them. Like this, she looks imperfect. Human. And it makes me want her more than ever.

“I have a suggestion,” she says, and I nod, encouraging her to go on, trying to still my anxious heart.

She takes a breath, steadying herself for whatever insane idea she has next, and says, “We should do this again.”

“You want to?” I gasp, not even pretending to hide how giddy that suggestion makes me feel.

“Really. Don’t get too excited.” She grins, stealing a kiss before she goes on. “I know our relationship status is complicated, and I know this isn’t really what you want. I wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship, either, but I think it would be good for our public image if we could find ways to look like we’re a little closer to each other. To find ways to let out some of the weird tension. You know?”

“I know,” I say so quietly that I worry she doesn’t even hear me.

My mind reels. A release of tension. That definitely is what happened. No feelings other than physical, that’s what she’s truly saying. That this doesn’t mean anything deeper.

“I don’t want any strings,” she says firmly, as if she’s scared that I’m about to ask her to make our marriage real. I’m not. I wouldn’t do that to her. I know she needs to be free more than she needs me. “But there’s nothing wrong with being friends who enjoy each other’s company in bed, is there? This is the modern age. We can do whatever we want.”

I get the feeling she’s trying to persuade herself that this is a good idea more than me, so I just nod in gentle agreement, not trusting myself to say anything.

This is probably the closest I’m ever going to get to having her actually be mine. I’m not going to throw this opportunity away. I’m also not going to make it weird for her. If she just wants to be friends, then friends it’ll be. Friends with benefits, and the benefits are good. It doesn’t disappoint me as long as some part of her is mine.

“This isn’t exactly how I thought marriage would go.” I chuckle.

“Me neither.” She laughs with me, settling back down in my arms. Then she turns her head to meet my eye. “Did you want to get married? I mean, before this. Not to me, but to someone.”

“Yeah, I think so,” I say, letting the truth pour out. “It was never a priority to me, or even an idea that had any solid form. I guess part of me always expected that one day I would find someone who could put up with the way I am and love me for it anyway.”

“Don’t be a dummy,” she says, reaching out to stroke my shoulder. “You have plenty to offer.”

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