Contractual Obligations

The venue was ornate, just over the line of ostentatious. My dad had spared no expense in renting the ballroom for more than three hundred people to attend my wedding.

And I didn’t know most of them.

On paper, this was going to be a perfect wedding. I had a beautiful, custom-made dress. The aisle I was walking down was adorned with freshly picked roses, which were the perfect shade of pink. My soon-to-be husband was wearing a tailored suit and was guaranteed not to get cold feet and run away.

I was the blushing, beautiful bride—the Juliet to the perfect Romeo but with a happy ending.

“I’m going to throw up,” I said, and my bridesmaid, Jessie, shoved a plastic trash can under my face.

Sasha, the maid of honor, and my soon-to-be sister-in-law, rolled her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jessie soothed, rubbing strong and steady circles on my back.

“Actually, she does,” Sasha said. “The contract’s been signed, and it’s more airtight than these vows are ever going to be.”

Jessie looked up, a glare on her face. “Can you not do this right now?”

Sasha shrugged. “I’m the maid of honor, and my job is to prevent you from getting her to back out. It’s a done deal.”

A slow, ragged breath escaped me. “She’s right.”

“What kind of archaic marriage agreement is this?” Jessie snapped. It was an argument I had heard since the moment I told her about this deal. “You’re a grown woman in the twenty-first century. Your parents don’t get to choose who you marry!”

“They do if she wants her inheritance,” Sasha said, smirking from her corner across the room.

Jessie’s glare returned, and I let out a resigned sigh. Sasha was right. If I wanted my inheritance—which was enough to buy me a house and get me away from my family—I had to go through with this.

I was nineteen and had nothing of my own. My dad was the executor of every penny I’d earned since I was pushed into modeling. Not only would this marriage secure the money I needed to escape, but I’d also gotten my parents to agree to let me take a break from modeling while I was married.

And while most people weren’t told who to marry, I was happy to exchange five years of my life to get the chance to run away and never look back. A small sacrifice for a much needed reward.

Jessie didn’t get it, and I didn’t blame her. There was a part of me that didn’t get it, either.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s only five years.”

“We wouldn’t be here if your dad hadn’t been so against merging with us in the first place,” Sasha reminded me as she examined her nails. “Maybe instead of turning customers against Miller Industries, he could have let himself get bought out like every other small-time company.”

I rolled my eyes at her version of events.

Yeah, it was true that my dad called out Miller Industries’ desire to be a monopoly from the beginning. Before this acquisition, he was adamant that he would never let his small chain of stores be owned by anyone else, and actively turned his very loyal customer base into people who boycotted Miller Industries for years.

But that was before my dad realized that he could never compete with their prices. By the time he knew he had to take the buyout offer, he also knew he would lose all of his customers when he gave in.

That was where I entered the picture. If the daughter of the owner of Electronic Point fell in love with the son of the CEO of Miller Industries, everyone would see it as a love story and not a buyout.

Jessie scoffed. “It’s not her fault her dad—”

“Hey,” I interrupted, “it’s fine.”

“But, Lily—”

“I said it’s fine,” I told her again. “I’ll be okay. It’s just for five years.”

“Five years is a long time.”

“Freedom is longer,” I added. Maybe if I said it enough, I’d start believing it too.

“Ugh,” Sasha said, “Lily, you’re being too emotional. Come on. Let’s get this wedding over with. I have an appointment with a masseuse at four.”

“We better not make her wait then,” Jessie muttered as she helped me up. “She might miss her massage. Lord knows how much worse she could be without it.”

I stifled a laugh and focused on not tripping over my own feet as we left the bridal suite and headed toward the ballroom.

When we arrived at the closed door with all of the wedding guests and my future husband inside, I could only take a deep breath and hope I wasn’t making a mistake.

My walk down the aisle was a mix of fairy lights, flowers, and flashes of cameras. My smile didn’t waver, and I was sure I looked just like I did on Instagram: tall, flowy, perfect in every way.

Sebastian Miller stood still as a rod. Before this, we’d only gone on a handful of dates, ones where we took hundreds of photos for our social media posts about our relationship.

He was a stern man. He didn’t really smile much, and I had a feeling he didn’t like me.

But he was about to be my husband.

When I met him in front of the preacher, we stood face to face. My heels made us close to the same height, and I took him in, knowing I was tied to him for the next five years.

Sebastian was attractive, that much was for sure.

We were the perfect matches to each other in photos. He was tall, with tanned skin and a lean build with full, dark hair, and a jawline to die for. I was shorter, standing at five foot six with no heels, and had a slim build curated for me by my mother’s strict diets.

I put a lot of work into my appearance, and judging by the few times I’d caught Sebastian’s eyes wandering, he liked me. Or how I looked, anyway.

My mother told me looks were all I needed. It didn’t matter that we didn’t know each other. I was pretty and he was handsome. We looked good together on camera. When we both smiled, we almost looked in love.

But Sebastian wasn’t smiling at our wedding. His jaw was tight, and he looked through me rather than at me. When I met him at the end of the aisle, I saw a flash of something I’d never seen before in his expression.

I saw fear.

Sebastian was always collected. On our first date, he’d told me with a straight face that I looked beautiful and that I should get whatever photos I had to before he needed to leave for a meeting.

When he proposed, he never actually said anything. I only saw the box with a sparkling, over-the-top ring inside.

But for the first time in our entire farce of a relationship, Sebastian wasn’t collected. He looked like I had in the bridal suite.

For a moment, I wondered if he were somehow in the same boat as me. Maybe he was as trapped as I was. Had his father come to him with a stack of papers, offered him money, and told him he needed to marry someone to make someone else look good? Did he hate this as much as I did?

But as soon as I saw the panic cross his face, it disappeared.

“Sebastian William Miller,” the preacher said, bringing me out of my thoughts, “do you accept this woman to be your wife? Do you promise to hold her, and comfort her in sickness and in health throughout the rest of your life?”

There was a pause. A moment where I hoped he would say “No, I don’t.”

“I do,” Sebastian said.

“Liliana Maria Roberts,” the preacher started again, looking at me. I tensed my muscles, stopping myself from running. “Do you accept this man to be your husband? Your leader and caregiver, as well as the man whom you will serve?”

Ugh. I had to serve him? What was I, a waitress?

I had no doubts my mother was responsible for these vows.

“I do,” I said, my voice sweet and light, just how everyone liked it.

“Then, under the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

We kissed, close-lipped and our bodies apart. People I didn’t know cheered for us, and my life was sealed for the next five years.

I looked to my husband, hoping for some indication that what I’d seen earlier was real.

But he stared straight ahead, face unreadable, and I began to wonder if his fear had even been there at all.

Photo: a perfect wedding shot of a couple facing joyous guests. The couple’s faces aren’t visible.

LilyMRoberts: I start my new life today! I am so grateful to have met my perfect partner. I can’t thank my parents enough for putting aside their differences with Sebastian’s family and giving me this joy. I couldn’t ask for a better husband.

TS13fan: OMG! You guys finally got married. CONGRATS!

User94859530384: you should show your face more

Adeamom: Such a beautiful wedding!

I was so far beyond exhausted that I wasn’t sure I was even alive.

After the wedding, and a million and one photos of my new husband and me, we were sent off on our honeymoon. It was literally right after the wedding. I didn’t get a wink of sleep on the plane, even as the time indicated it was past midnight.

My mom had texted me to be sure we consummated our marriage, and I had hidden my screen from Sebastian to forward the messages right to Jessie.

Jessie: They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.

Lily: I know, and I’m not going to. But at least he’s cute?

Jessie: Seriously? He’s his father’s show pony. Anything you do in front of him will go right back to Martin. BE CAREFUL.

“Who are you texting?” Sebastian’s asked.

I jumped, looking next to me in our little cocoon in first class. I didn’t think he was close enough to see what I had been saying, but I also didn’t want to risk it.

“Just Jessie,” I said. “She’s checking in.”

Sebastian gave me a withering stare and went back to working on his laptop. I angled my phone just a little farther away and typed back.

Lily: I am being careful, but I also have to be conscious of what they’ve asked me to do.

Jessie: Ugh. Gross.

Lily: It is what it is. He’s at least cute. I’m going to pretend it’s a one-night stand or something.

Jessie: You realize how fucked up this is, right?

Lily: Of course I do. And I’m sure my future therapist is going to hear about it. But I literally have no other job, and Martin will make sure I can’t get one if I don’t do this right. So I’m doing it right.

Jessie: I know why you’re doing this, but if you ever get uncomfortable, if he touches you in any way you don’t like, then LEAVE.

Lily: I will.

And I meant it. If Sebastian tried pushing me or doing anything I didn’t like, I’d put a stop to it. I had that much faith in myself. And it wasn’t even like I had never been with anyone before. Sure, I was young, but I wasn’t that young. I had grown up a child model, for God’s sake. Plenty of older men offered, but I was always able to stick to people closer to my age. And because of that, I know how to put my foot down.

If this was to go anything like my previous hookups, then it would be okay for me and good for him. The experience I’d had with sex led me to believe it wasn’t as good as people said—at least not for the woman.

I glanced over at him, imagining what he would be like.

Even though I didn’t think sex was all that, my body wanted his. He was my type with his dark hair, thick lashes, and tall, slim build. I wondered if he thought the same about me.

Most of my partners had been far more experienced than me, and I guessed that Sebastian was no exception.

With looks like his, there was no way he hadn’t been around. I bet he had a whole encyclopedia in his phone of people he could call to sleep with.

I also bet he had no intention of deleting them, despite us being married.

It was a sham marriage, sure, but still a real one. I had been barred from seeing anyone during the next five years, and I wasn’t about to risk it—not when I had signed my life away.

No. I was seeing this through to the end.

But I had read Sebastian’s contract when I snuck into Martin’s office late one night. He didn’t have any limitations like I did. And I knew eventually he would look for an out.

It was just something I would have to accept.

“So,” I said, putting on my sweetest voice, “the photos from the wedding came out great.”

Sebastian looked up for only one second and said, “Yep.”

“People love us.”

Sebastian didn’t even look up this time. “They love what they see, yes.”

My heart sunk. He was so not into this conversation. Neither was I, really, but I was supposed to be the shallow one. I was supposed to be the one who was pretty and charming and nothing else.

“You looked good,” he said. “Beautiful.”

He didn’t look me in the eyes, and I was grateful he didn’t see my wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. Maybe it was an olive branch. Maybe this was my in.

“Thank you.” My voice was genuine. When he turned to look at me, I blinked myself out of my shocked state. I didn’t need to let my mask slip. Not here. “You looked good too. You have really nice hair. About half of my Instagram comments are about how hot you are.”

Sebastian looked back at his laptop, any hint of interest gone.

“Thanks.”

Had I done something wrong? I was supposed to talk about my social media. That was my whole life. He married me knowing that.

But for the shortest of seconds, I wondered if I should try being myself. Deep down, I was into high fantasy and had a habit of writing fanfiction that would never see the light of day. I loved food, despite my restrictive diets, and wanted to try something from each part of America.

Would he be into that?

No, my mother’s voice insisted. You are your looks, and nothing else. Anything not related to that is a waste of time. No one cares.

I clamped my mouth shut.

I pulled out my own laptop, knowing there wasn’t much else to do.

It was one of my greatest possessions. My dad had given it to me when I agreed to this marriage. After ensuring there was no spyware installed, I used it for my secret writing.

It was stored in hidden folders, and I only wrote when alone. I’d only ever delved into fanfiction, but I was thinking about making something of my own. That was a long time away, though, and for now, I needed to post again about the wedding.

I ignored Sebastian and uploaded more cheesy posts about my “perfect” marriage. The comments ate it up. They all talked about how perfect we looked standing next to each other, and how amazing it was that my dad had let go of his public feud with Miller Industries because of our love.

I felt a twinge of anger that my parents’ ridiculous plan worked. The buyout was going well, and people were actually shopping at my family’s stores more now that Sebastian and I were together. Miller Industries was even doing better since the boycott was over.

I wished it had blown up in their faces.

But because it worked so well, this was my reality for five years. I needed to talk about the perfect love story. I needed to make it look like a man like Sebastian loved me, even if he wouldn’t give me the time of day.

I had to lie.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. This felt like a mistake, and it probably was.

One day I’d regret this, but in that moment, all I could feel was free from my modeling career. At least I didn’t have to think about it for a long while.

And when it was all said and done, no one would hear from me again.

All I had to do was survive the next five years and make everyone think Sebastian was in love with me.

My eyes slid over to him again. He still had his head in his laptop and was pointedly ignoring me.

This might be harder than I thought.

When we landed at the airport, I was hit with the scent of Puerto Rico. The atmosphere was heavy with salt, humidity, and the remnants of people’s sunscreen and body butters. Each time I breathed in, the air smelled differently than before. It was probably because of the hustle and bustle of the airport, but I wanted to revel in it. I wanted to stand still and take in each scent until I had them all memorized.

It was beautiful, and I had no doubt that had I come here alone, I would want to explore everything. There was one of the most biologically diverse rainforests and tons of local, one-off restaurants that would be way better than whatever bullshit chains had made their way into the tourist town we were in.

But I knew I couldn’t just disappear. Sebastian would report that back to Martin, and I worried it would look like I was sneaking off with someone else. Instead, I decided to stay in the hotel and write.

The hotel was a honeymooner’s paradise, so it wouldn’t be so bad. It was lavish, with tall wooden ceilings and cool white marble floors. I silently eyed it in wonder. While my mom had always wanted riches, I hadn’t been raised with money. My dad worked so hard on his small electronics business that we never had time to vacation. This was probably the nicest place I had ever been.

Sebastian didn’t even take notice.

Unlike me, he had been raised in luxury. He had no doubt been on countless amazing vacations; all this was normal to him.

I tried to keep the wonderment off my face. I needed to look like him, like all of this was normal. I needed to keep my rich, spoiled persona turned on. It was what my parents had marketed me as and was the only reason I had gotten this marriage. Sebastian didn’t want a wife who talked about Game of Thrones or got buried in a stack of books. He wanted a wife who was pretty, perfect, and could benefit Miller Industries.

We had the honeymoon suite, which was on the top floor of the hotel. The bed was covered in rose petals and there was chocolate and champagne sitting perfectly centered on the huge bed. The headboard was a mirror, designed for couples to see exactly what they were doing.

I took a photo of it, knowing this would look good when I had to brag about how perfect our honeymoon was.

Inside, I felt like a bundle of exposed nerves.

I didn’t know what Sebastian had planned for this trip. I didn’t know when he would eventually come on to me, wanting to consummate whatever we had. All I knew was that if he did it before I showered and slept at least two hours, I’d push him off the balcony.

But he didn’t even give me a second glance. He sat at the small hotel table, designed for two, pulled out his laptop from his bag, and got to work.

I blinked at him, wondering just how much fucking work he could have. What did they have him doing where he needed to be glued to technology all the time? Would it have killed him to show interest in his new wife?

I shook it off, deciding to shower. When I was done, I put makeup on my face, knowing that if Sebastian did finally look at me again, he would want to see me as my best.

“Cover those freckles, Lily,” my mom said. “Men don’t like imperfections.”

And I always did. My skin hated me, and I sort of hated me too, but this was only for five years. I could survive.

I took my time putting on lavender and vanilla lotions that made me smell amazing. I came out of the bathroom in a silk tank top and shorts, putting my perfect body on display while still looking like I was trying to be casual.

Sebastian glanced up, and his eyes lingered for half a second longer than usual, then he was back to his laptop.

I felt dejected. I looked exactly how I was supposed to. My dyed blonde hair was sitting on my shoulders in a way I thought was enticing. My silk pajamas were the epitome of sexy. This should have worked.

Then my exhaustion hit, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to pretend I was into the idea of sex right now. I needed rest. I didn’t look at him as I crossed the suite and laid in the bed. The expensive, soft sheets felt heavenly against my freshly shaven legs and I almost moaned from that alone.

I wondered if Sebastian would eventually come join me. Maybe he would finish with whatever he was doing and wake me up to try something.

But then he didn’t.

I slept for fourteen hours. When I woke up, Sebastian was working again. He had changed clothes, but the sheets next to me were unmoved, like he never slept.

Was this man even human?

I didn’t say anything to him, only went to the bathroom to check and make sure my makeup was perfect. When I saw my beautifully made-up face in the mirror, I swallowed back a bite of anger. I had done it all right. Why hadn’t he been interested?

When I came back out, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. He was focused and didn’t care what I was up to. I needed to ask him to pose with me for photos, but I didn’t even want to look at him after he had so callously rejected me.

I sat on the bed, trying to think of what I could do to fix this. I thought I had looked perfect enough for him, but what was enough for him anyway? Did I need even less clothes?

I bit my lip, and then played another one of my cards.

“I’m going to the pool,” I announced before I changed into my bikini. I left the bathroom door open so he could catch a glimpse of me if he only looked up from his stupid laptop.

Instead, he ignored me.

I put sunglasses on and a see-through cover-up as nothing more than a farce of modesty. It hugged the right places though, and the white cloth over my black suit made me look good.

I slammed the bathroom door when I came out, and finally Sebastian looked up. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His cheeks darkened and I could have sworn his eyes did too.

But just as quickly as I saw it, it was gone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I asked, the double meaning of my words meant to entice him.

“No, I’m busy,” he said.

“I missed you last night.”

Ugh. The words felt weird. I was too dead to the world to even know if he was next to me.

“I slept on the couch.”

Oh come on.

“Well,” I said, keeping my voice light and sweet despite my inner turmoil, “you’re always welcome next to me.”

“I’ll . . . keep that in mind.”

And with that, he went back to work.

I frowned at him.

Seriously?

I left without another word. I stalked to the pool deck, feeling like I could explode at any moment. Why did he not seem to care at all? Why did he only fucking work?

My phone rang as I sat down, and I sighed in relief when I saw it was Jessie.

“Hey,” I answered.

“God, I’m so worried about you. Did he try anything? Do I need to kill him?”

“No to all of those questions,” I muttered. “He didn’t so much as look at me.”

“Oh . . . well, that’s good?”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s not?”

“Well, maybe it is. But it’s kind of not. He doesn’t care about me at all. How the fuck am I supposed to make this work when he won’t even look at me for five seconds?”

“You’re not, Lily. This is a business deal.”

“I know that, but seriously, I’m supposed to be his type. He’s supposed to look at me right? Like we’re supposed to have something—”

“Lily, this isn’t love,” Jessie said simply. “It’s just convenience.”

“But—”

“Lily, you were forced to marry him. Why does it matter to you if he looks at you?”

Because this was what I was supposed to be. I was doing everything my mother said to do. Men were supposed to care.

“Also,” Jessie added, “have you ever considered that he already had someone before you?”

Oh.

Oh no.

My heart sank and my throat closed.

“I . . . I guess I should have,” I said, my voice soft.

Jessie sighed. “This is why I didn’t think this was a good idea. You’re not an item, Lily. You’re a person, and you don’t deserve to be traded off like a pawn.”

“I know and I hear you,” I replied. “But I don’t have a lot of options. If I said no, then it was going to be me modeling forever. And you know how much I hated that.”

Jessie was silent for a moment, and I could picture the look of concern on her face: her eyebrows lowered so far that her eyes were almost shut, her lips in a disappointed frown; she had the same one when I originally told her about this marriage.

“Your family is wrong.”

“They are,” I agreed. “But . . . this marriage is my job. And if he’s obviously not interested in me, then how am I supposed to make this work at all?”

Jessie sighed. “So, what is it you need from him?”

“At this point? Just a photo for Instagram. We need to look like the happy couple we’re supposed to be. But he’s like a robot.”

“Hm. Have you thought about loosening him up? Does he drink? Does he dance?”

“I don’t know.”

Jessie groaned. “This isn’t a lot to work with.”

“I should just take a photo of the water and make it seem like we’re never clothed so we can’t be in the photo.”

“Gross.”

“It’s better than begging for attention.”

“You’re right. Just . . . do that. And stay safe.”

“I will.”

“You’re on a beach, right? Are you doing anything fun?”

“I don’t think I can leave without him. But I came to the pool deck by myself. People are mostly drinking—”

“I don’t care what laws are there—you should not get drunk where it’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, standing up to walk around. “Some people are just in the sun.”

“Did you put on sunscreen? If not, you should maybe stay out of the sun.”

“Oh, there’s music across the pool. People are dancing.”

“That does sound fun. You like to dance.”

I looked down at my outfit. “I’m in my bikini.”

“What? Why?”

“Sebastian.”

“He saw you in that and didn’t even look?”

“He did for maybe a minute.”

“Wow,” Jessie said. “And you should change. I don’t think that thing is appropriate.”

“I don’t want to go back there. Think my ugly wedding ring will ward off people trying to dance with me?”

“No, but you should just punch them in the face if they bother you.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Just be safe, Lily, okay?”

“I will,” I said, “and look forward to my lovely vague beach post.”

“I definitely won’t.”

We said our goodbyes and I put the phone in the small beach bag I had brought. I took it over to the dance floor where I set it on a new beach chair that was in my sight.

The day was perfect and the weather warm. I kicked off my sandals and found my way into the dancing crowd. I didn’t know why people were drunk and dancing in the late morning of the day, but I had a feeling timing didn’t matter when on vacation. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from them.

A few guys propositioned me as I danced, but I turned them down. Luckily most of them didn’t seem bothered and went to find the next pretty girl to hit on.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a little free. I was enjoying myself. Sure, I’d like to be wearing more clothes and given more freedom, but this was something I could do.

I was so entranced by the music that I totally missed Sebastian.

While checking on my beach bag, I saw him staring at me from nearby. His gaze was so intense that I froze for a moment, wondering what I had done wrong.

I wasn’t dancing with anyone, I hadn’t let anyone hit on me, and I was being safe.

I was also having fun.

Fuck Sebastian. I wanted to keep dancing.

I couldn’t completely forget he was there. I kept glancing over, wondering if he was going to either drag me out of the dance crowd or leave.

He did neither. He only watched.

I wanted to know what he was thinking as I continued dancing. With every turn, I’d look back at him, only to see him still looking at me with an intensity I’d never seen out of him. I almost thought I saw the hint of a smirk on his face. It was gone as fast as it came, and I wasn’t sure if the distance was playing tricks on me—but I could have sworn I saw a crack in the façade I expected. I at least hoped I did.

That was when it hit me.

He liked what he saw.

In an instant, I felt a little more powerful. He had ignored me since we’d been here, but this wasn’t him ignoring me. He was looking at me dead on.

Eventually he strode over, all confidence, and he grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

“Come back to the room.”

My heart raced under his attention. All thought flew out the window because Sebastian was looking at me with darkened, interested eyes.

And that was all I needed.

I only had time to grab my bag before he was dragging me out of there. I knew he didn’t really like me, but he was attracted to me, and for some, that was practically the same thing. This was all I could ask for.

He was quiet, too quiet, and much too into his job for me. But he was hot, and we were married. I didn’t mind sleeping with him. There were worse things I could do.

He kissed me the moment the elevator doors closed. It was so different than the one at our wedding. It was rough and wild and it could only mean one thing.

I was pressed into the metal wall as he towered over me. His kisses were hard and hungry, his mouth moving over mine with enough pressure that had me wanting more.

He was a fantastic kisser apparently.

I couldn’t help the embarrassing moan that escaped me when he swiped his tongue across my lower lip. In turn, he only pressed into me harder, as if he was trying to trap me with his weight.

Then the elevator traitorously dinged, and he pulled away to drag me to the room.

As I fell onto the bed, I knew what to expect. My sexual trysts involved a man trying to get me off for about five seconds, an over-the-top, fake orgasm, and then immediate penetration.

And I was okay with that.

Of course, no one ever told me what was normal, but after sleeping with three men who all followed the same rhythm, I was gearing up to fake the best orgasm anyone had ever heard.

Sebastian was on top of me, continuing to kiss me roughly. His hands wandered, and I enjoyed it when he cupped my breast in one of his hands.

But then he pulled away.

“What do you like?” he asked.

I blinked up at him, not really understanding the question. “What?”

“With sex. What do you like?”

I sat there, unsure of what to say. Finally, I settled on, “It doesn’t matter that much. I just want you to feel good.”

Sebastian’s expression was almost betrayed. For a panicked moment, I thought I had messed this up. But then he shook his head and said, “No.”

“No?”

“It’s not just about me. I don’t want that.”

What was I supposed to say to that? No one had ever asked me what I liked, and what I liked was a blue vibrator that was wrapped up and tucked discreetly in the bottom of my bedside drawer. I didn’t know what I needed when it wasn’t my own hand in control. I didn’t have the words to describe it, either.

He must have sensed my uncertainty, because he said, “We’ll just figure it out, then. You’ll have to tell me if you like it.”

I’d heard this one before, but usually men treated me like a race to the finish line so they could get what they wanted.

His hand trailed down my side, his fingertips leaving ghostly touches on the skin of my stomach and hips. He moved toward the line of my bikini, gently stroking the skin on the inside of my thigh. Leisurely, he moved the fabric, his gentle fingers stroking my clit.

And it felt good.

His hand moved slowly, so much than anyone else I’d been with. He pressed into my clit with just enough force, circling it and then going up and down, a satisfying rhythm of movement.

It felt so good, and my body was beginning to come online. My core tightened and grew wet. I gasped for air, but it would take a while for me to come from this.

Probably too long for him.

I opened my mouth to say something but moaned as he went over my clit again with that soft, pleasurable motion.

“We don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice breathy and light from the sheer pleasure I was feeling. “We can do—” another moan escaped me, “whatever makes you feel good.”

“This makes me feel good.”

What? He had to be lying. This wasn’t how sex worked.

But he continued: kissing my lips, my neck, and my breasts as his fingers worked in perfect rhythm. I was panting, feeling my body tighten in anticipation of an orgasm.

“Oh, keep going!” I yelled. “Right there!”

He carried on with his movements, putting more pressure on my clit in the perfect way.

“Fuck, Lily. You’re so beautiful. Come for me, honey.”

Holy shit.

Those words sent me tumbling over the edge, crashing through one of the greatest orgasms I’d ever felt.

I was whining his name, arching off the bed, and feeling every nerve ending of my body explode with pleasure. I saw stars and my body shook. It was better than my vibrator had ever been able to give me.

And it was all because of my husband.

I thought I was dreaming. Did that just happen? Did he actually make me finish?

“Do you want more?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I want you,” I said. And I meant it. I wanted him in me. I wanted to take him apart like he had just done to me.

“Are you sure? I’m in no rush.”

“I’m definitely sure.”

He pulled away to try and find any hint of a lie in my expression. He didn’t find one.

He got off of me for a second, only to grab a condom, which was surprising. I figured he’d try to get out of them since we were married.

It was kind of hot that he didn’t.

He removed his clothes so tantalizingly slow that I thought I was going to die. But he was so perfect to look at. His broad chest with just a hint of hair. His amazing ass and the length of him all had me staring.

I sat up, realizing I was still in my swimsuit. I took off my cover-up, planning to catch-up with him, but he stopped my hands and said, “That’s my job.”

I blinked in confusion, but then his hands trailed my skin again, touching my hips, my stomach, and then my back. He unhooked my swimsuit top with one movement, but dragged it off of me. His eyes were locked on my breasts as he tossed the material across the room.

He lowered his mouth to one, gently kissing the taut nipple and sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

He continued his way to my stomach, stopping at my bikini bottom. He grabbed the fabric and moved them down my hips, his hands dragging along my skin as he did so.

I shivered when I was fully naked. My pussy was wet and aching for him, especially when he eyed my body so hungrily.

I grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him down to kiss me. He laid on top of me, pinning me to the mattress with the perfect amount of pressure. I opened my legs, angling myself to where he could enter me.

I’d never been this wet for a man before. Usually, when we’d get to penetration, I was never fully ready to take them, no matter their size.

But I was ready this time. In fact, I needed it.

Sebastian slowly pressed into me, making slow work of filling me. It was like an art, or perhaps some form of exquisite torture. I don’t know how he didn’t lose control, but evidently he kept his composure even in bed.

I wondered if I could break it.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” I said. “I don’t mind it rough.”

And I didn’t. At least not this time.

As long as he was the one I was with.

Something in him snapped. He slammed into me then, and I got a moment to feel full and complete before he was pulling out and pounding in again.

The stars returned. Never had I felt this relaxed in sex. Never had I enjoyed it this much. Never had I wanted someone to fuck me so raw and passionately.

Sebastian panted, and the fast-paced movement displaced a strand of his always perfectly styled hair. That messiness was so different from what I’d seen from him so far that I felt honored to witness it.

Honored and so fucking turned on.

He was hitting all the right areas inside of me, making me tighten and build to something I’d never felt before. This was not how sex went for me, but I let go, wanting more than anything to see where this led.

And as he fucked me, another orgasm ripped through me.

My entire body clenched as I saw stars a second time. I cried out, moaning his name and how good it felt as he kept thrusting into me over and over.

“Oh, fuck, Lily,” he said, and I could see him breaking too. He groaned as he came, his hips slowing their roll until he was fully seated in me again. I could feel him twitch inside of me.

Both of us were panting, and I was completely entranced by how disheveled he looked. His hair was messy, his olive skin glistening, his muscles tight.

In that moment, I wanted to open up and tell him everything—how no one had been like that before, how I wished we could talk more, and how much I wanted us to work.

“I need sleep,” he said, still out of breath. “That couch was not comfortable.”

“There’s a spot next to me,” I said, smiling up at him. It was a genuine smile, and I found myself hoping he would take me up on my offer.

He nodded, and I felt like I’d won the lottery.

Sebastian pulled out of me and went to the bathroom, leaving the door open for me after he was done. I went in, did my business, and fixed my makeup before coming back out. Sebastian was lying in bed on his phone.

I deflated a little. “No cuddles after that?” I asked in a coy voice.

Sebastian looked at me, but his eyes were distant, like they were at the wedding. Slowly, however, he nodded and lifted an arm. I tucked myself into him, enjoying his warmth and solid body.

But I couldn’t get his expression out of my head.

I wondered if maybe he wasn’t a cuddly guy. Maybe he was doing this to be nice, but I couldn’t find it in me to roll away from him and onto my side of the bed. After that performance, I wanted to touch him again.

Obviously, he liked something about me. Maybe it was the swimsuit and see-through cover-up. Maybe it was the dancing. Whatever the reason, I’d gotten lucky enough to be married to a man who could make me come not once, but twice.

I needed to keep him interested.

As I dozed off, my head pillowed on his chest, I wondered what he would think of the real me. Would he like the nerdy, poetic, bookworm version?

I dreamed he did.

And then when I woke up, I was alone.

Sebastian was working again, completely ignoring me. I opened my mouth, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Had I imagined what happened the night before? Had I imagined that spark we’d had?

“Working again?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m busy,” he said. “You should go down to the pool and have fun.”

“You don’t want to go with me?”

He sighed, sounding annoyed.

That was when his phone went off.

“Excuse me,” he said, standing. He walked to the balcony, and I heard the beginning of his conversation. “Hey, Heather,” he said, his voice soft, “did I miss something important?”

For a second, I didn’t understand what I’d just heard.

Then it hit me.

Oh God. Jessie was right. He did have someone.

I silently got up and went to the bathroom to get some privacy. My heart was in my stomach and I wanted to throw up.

Why did I sleep with him? Why didn’t I listen to Jessie?

Why did I go through with this?

I heard the balcony door shut and I straightened up. He didn’t need to know I was upset. It was as my mother said: ladies showed their emotions in private.

I walked out slowly, heading for the balcony.

But then I stopped.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“My assistant,” he said without looking at me. “She helps me get stuff done.”

Oh, I bet she did.

I shook my head and went out on the balcony, taking my laptop with me.

I had an Instagram post to make.

I threw up something stupid and vague, hinting that Sebastian and I weren’t camera ready for different reasons than we really were.

I closed the tab to the app before the comments could come in. When I heard them on my phone, I turned that off too.

Everyone thought Sebastian and I were perfect. Happy.

But I was only angry.

I flipped over to my word processor. I had to get this pain out somehow, and the fanfics I’d been writing weren’t enough. No, I needed my own story, one that I created from scratch.

I started typing.

Hours later, I had a chapter and a Band-Aid over my heart.

Photo: a sandy beach with a blanket in view. Lily’s legs are seen but nothing else.

LilyRMartin: Sand and sun with hubby! I’d post a pic of us, but we aren’t decent *smirking emoji*

TS13fan: I’m literally going to make a fan account for you two. I’m OBSESSED!

Chainsawfam: ooh, SPICY!

User837363230: be indecent with me *ten smirking emojis*