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“Don’t tell—” I begin, but before my words can tumble out, they’re cut off by the slam of the door shutting.
Coop is laughing softly, and I turn toward him, grabbing another pillow and holding it over his head.
“I’m going to murder you. A slow death by suffocation.”
“Oh babe, no. This is so good for your homophobic heart.”
I ignore him. “Till death do us part, isn’t that how it goes? You’ll just meet your end sooner than you planned.”
He sits up, swats the pillow away from me, and pinches my nipple. A hiss leaves my lips, and I glower at him.
“Stop being such a drama queen. God, you straight guys are the worst. Let’s shower and get some coffee and then we can discuss this like adults.”
“I don’t want to discuss anything. I want to fix it.”
“Hm, well, I have to be honest with you, Matthew. I’m enjoying this far too much. I’m not sure there’s anything to fix.”
“Jesus.”
He crawls out of bed, and my eyes go to his ass, a large bruise sitting on his butt cheek, and I, honest to god, don’t want to know how he got that.
If that is from me, I will throw myself out this window right now.
“Come on. Shower time, hubby.”
“I’m not showering with you. You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
He grins at me and runs a hand through his tangled hair. His cock hangs between his legs, and I force myself not to look at it. He’s bigger than me, that’s for sure, and much wider. I think I remember him saying he’s a bottom, so at least that thing won’t be going into any asses. Because that would hurt.
But that’s really not what I should be thinking about. That’s not the issue. The issue is that we’re married, and he seems completely unbothered by this fact. We aren’t even friends. We just met a couple weeks ago, and have had only a few surface-level chats because he’s a friend of my brother, Max’s new husband, Beau. Because I’ve been trying to have an open mind, been trying to be better. There’s absolutely no reason on Earth why Coop should want to stay married to me. Plus, I’m straight.
He should want to get this annulled immediately.
But the way he’s whistling in the bathroom tells me that he obviously wants to put me through hell instead.
This has to be some gay plot to get back at me. It’s nefarious, I’m sure.
I stand up and follow him into the bathroom just as he steps under the water, steam billowing out around him.
“We are fixing this,” I say, pointing my finger at him. Just then, I realize I’m naked like he is, my dick swaying in the open air, but I don’t give a fuck. He seems to think this is a joke. He’s even grinning from behind the glass, like this is no big deal. “You have to have like lawyers or something you can call to get this sorted.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.”
I stare at him as he cups his ears dramatically and tilts his head forward. That fucking liar. He can hear me just fine. My voice echoes.
“You can hear me, you asshole.”
He leans forward further, his nose pressed against the glass. “Cosa hei detto?”
“Oh, you fucker,” I murmur as I move toward him and step into the shower. The water spray hits my chest and legs, but I just ignore it, hating that his grin only grows. He has me right where he wants me and he knows it.
Those dark golden eyes of his move down my chest and settle on my dick. It preens under the attention, despite me telling it that this is ridiculous, that I will not get hard for another dude. I’m not gay. Not one little bit.
“I said,” I bite out, “that you must have lawyers for this kind of thing. That surely you can make a phone call and get this all resolved.”
“Oh, you know I do. But the question is, do I want to bother?”
My eyes narrow at him as he holds out the shampoo. “Might as well wash up since you’re in here. There is quite a lot of cum on you.”
