Page 71 of Big Dick Energy

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying...” Another breath, like he was about to jump off a cliff. “I honestly kind of like being married to you.”

My brain packed its bags and left the building. The man who didn't believe in marriage liked being married. To me.

My lips parted, but before I could respond, his lips collided with mine, silencing me.

This wasn't a rehearsal. This wasn't practice for anything. This was months of banter and tension, and frustration finally ignited.

His mouth was hot and demanding against mine. One hand fisted in my hair while the other splayed across my ass, hauling me impossibly closer until I was half on top of him. I made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and felt him smile against my lips.

“There it is,” he murmured.

“Shut up…”

He kissed me again, deeper, his tongue sliding against mine. My fingers tangled in his damp hair, and I arched into him, chasing more contact, more friction, more of whatever this was that was melting my bones and setting my nerve endings on fire.

His hand slid under the hem of my shirt, palm hot against the bare skin of my lower back. I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, rolling us so I was pinned beneath him. The weight of him pressed me into the mattress, solid and warm and everywhere at once.

“Davina.”

His lips trailed down my jaw, finding the sensitive spot below my ear, and I tilted my head back to give him better access. My hands moved over his shoulders, his back, the flex of muscle as he shifted against me. His mouth found my pulse point, teeth grazing gently, and I moaned.

My brain, that traitor that had apparently missed its flight, came crashing back into my skull.

This is fake.

This ends in divorce.

You are going to get your heart destroyed.

I pressed my palms flat against his chest and pushed.

“Wait. Wait.”

Dallas froze immediately, lifting his head. His hair was a mess, and his lips were swollen, his breathing ragged. “What's wrong?”

I shifted, rolling him off me before I scrambled back, putting desperately needed distance between us. My heart was hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. “We can't do this.”

“We were doing it pretty successfully about five seconds ago.”

“Dallas.” I pressed my hands over my face, trying to gather the scattered pieces of my composure. “This isn't real. You know this isn't real.”

He propped his head on his hand, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. “Felt pretty real to me.”

“It's going to end.” My voice came out shakier than I wanted. “In six months, maybe a year, we're going to sign divorce papers. We're going to go back to our separate lives. This…” I gestured between us, at the rumpled sheets, at the space where our bodies had been wrapped around each other. “This just makes it complicated.”

“It's already complicated.”

“You don't believe in marriage.” The words burst out of me, a desperate reminder to him, to myself. “You've told me that at least fifty times. You think it's an outdated institution. You think it ruins perfectly good relationships. You…”

“I know what I've said.”

“Then you know this is temporary. We want completely different things.” I rolled to my back, staring up at the ceiling. “You want... whatever this is. Temporary fun and I…” I swallowed hard. “I can't do temporary. It’s not what I want.”

Dallas was quiet for a long moment. “Can I point something out?” His voice was calm.

“I'd really rather you didn't.”