Page 72 of Big Dick Energy

“Tough.” He shifted closer, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “In every conversation we've had about this arrangement, every single one, you're the one who brings up divorce.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it, realizing he was right. I couldn’t remember a single time that he’d asked us to get this over with.

“Because that's the plan…”

“Plans change.”

“Dallas, don't play with me. If this is about sex…”

“It's not about sex.” His laugh was soft. “I mean, I'm not opposed to sex. I'm very much in favor of sex. But that's not what this is about.” He paused. “I'm not saying that after the year is up, we definitely will want to stay married. I'm saying... let's enjoy this. Have fun together. See what happens.”

“Even if there was a universe where I liked you…” I poked his chest, “...this would never work. We want completely different futures.”

“Well.” He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “It's guaranteed to work for the next six months to a year.”

A smile tugged at my mouth. This was insane. I was considering playing house with benefits with Dallas Dodger, the man who'd made me want to commit murder approximately seventy-three times since we’d gotten married.

Maybe it was the two-year dry spell talking. Maybe my delusional, touch-starved brain had decided that a few orgasms were worth the inevitable emotional carnage.

Or maybe, and this was the terrifying option, I wanted this.

Wanted him.

“You're considering it,” he observed, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“I'm considering having you committed.”

“You're definitely considering it.” He leaned in, close enough that his lips brushed mine when he spoke. “I can see the pros vs. cons analysis happening in real time. It's very cute.”

“I don't do pros and cons.”

“You do. You're doing one right now. Pros: incredible chemistry, forced proximity, six months of guaranteed entertainment, lots of orgasms. Cons: you might start to like me.”

“That's not…”

“You're worried about the cons.” His hand cupped my chin, tilting my face up toward his. “But here's the thing, Davidson.”

My eyes fluttered closed as our legs intertwined. I hummed something that was supposed to be what's that, but came out closer to a sigh. I was already lost in the heat of him, in the impossible tenderness of his touch, in the promise of multiple orgasms.

His kiss was soft.

“The cons,” he murmured against my lips, “might be worth it.”

God help me, I was starting to think he might be right.

He brushed his mouth against mine once.

Twice.

Testing.

Asking.

I leaned in, permission granted, white flag raised, last defenses crumbling, and he captured my lips like he'd been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. His hand circled my throat, thumb pressing gently against my chin, tilting my head back to deepen the angle. He shifted his weight, pressing me into the mattress, and I stopped thinking about the consequences.

Stopped thinking about anything at all.

His kiss wasn't gentle anymore. It was the kind of kiss that left marks invisible to everyone but us.