Pucking Ever After (Jacksonville Rays, #2.5)

by Emily Rath

Novy turns the music back on. The speaker is tucked in his backpack at his feet. Under the beat of Eminem, he looks out the window and snorts. “Puppy…totally fits.” Puffing out my chest, I lean between the seats. “Back when Novy and Pop were first sneaking around, I caught him double-teaming her with Morrow in Sully’s guest room.” Sully spins around, glaring between the guys. “Dudes. Seriously?”

Slowly, Novy turns and calls out, “The next person to make fun of Langers for being called ‘puppy’ will answer to me.” I smirk. That’s right, he knows I can ruin him. “Five minutes out,” Mars says from the driver’s seat. I heave a sigh of relief. I love my guys, but now I just wanna be with my girl.

“Oh…Ryan.” I spin around to see Tess standing in the doorway of my private bungalow—all her idea. She’s playing up the whole “separate rooms before the wedding” angle and I hate it. We’re already fucking married. But I’m playing along…for one more night. Then she’s mine again.

“You really scared me, Ryan.” “I know. I’m sorry.” “And you’re really freaking sunburned.” “I know.” When I got back to my bungalow, the first thing I did was take off my shirt and look in the mirror. Sharp red lines mark the start of my new sunburn that stretches over my shoulders and down my arms. My cheeks and nose are red too, the tops of my ears, my neck. “I was an idiot. I should have reapplied sunscreen throughout the day. Why are you still all the way over there?” She gives me a weak smile. “Because you look like you smell like a chum bucket. And I think it’ll clash with the ‘tropical midnight temptress’ scent bouquet I’m rocking right now.”

“Well, just give me two minutes. I’ll wash this chum bucket smell away, and we’ll go try to salvage the rest of the evening. Sound good?” She nods. “Wanna head back without me or wait?” All of a sudden, her smile falls and tears bloom in her eyes. “Baby, what—” “Ryan, I think I need a hug,” she says on a weepy breath. I cross the room to her without hesitation, wrapping her in my arms, ignoring the pain in my shoulders. She presses her face against my bare chest and her hands brace at my back. “I’m so sorry, Tess.” I brush my hand lightly over her hair, taking in her intoxicating scent—jasmine and lily and something fresh and fruity. “I’m so sorry I scared you. We weren’t in any danger. The damn boat just broke, and we had to wait forever for the Coast Guard, and none of us had any cell service. I would never worry you like that on purpose.”

“Die after me, Ryan Langley. Swear it.” I cup her face with my sore hand. “Tess—” “Swear it to me, Ryan,” she says, stepping away. “You went and made me fall in love with you, and now I’m this mess of a girl that cries when her husband goes off on a fishing boat. You did this to me. You wormed your way inside. Now you’re in me, and you’re part of me, and I can’t breathe—I can’t breathe for loving you, Ryan. And now you have to let me die first, and I need you to swear it. Swear, Ryan.”

“So, how long are you guys staying on the island after the wedding?” asks Shelby, leaning over the table towards us. “Only two days,” Tess replies, sipping her cocktail. “I’ve got that big city council rezoning meeting next week, and Ryan was already committed to working that youth hockey camp up in Michigan.”

She leans into me, her hand brushing down my khakis. “I think I’m gonna head back.” I wrap my arm around the back of her chair. “You okay?” “Yeah, just tired. Tomorrow is another long day, and I’ll have to be up early.” “Want me to walk you back?” She smiles, shaking her head. “Stay and finish your cake.” “I want to walk you back,” I press, lowering my voice. “Gives me an excuse to leave too. I’m fucking beat.” “I’m so tired I could cry,” she says with a weak little laugh. “Let’s get the hell outta here.” I push back my chair and stand, helping her to her feet. She lost her shoes somewhere over by the dance floor ages ago. “You two lovebirds taking off?” “Yep, early day tomorrow,” I reply, helping Tess around the table. “I heard something about a wedding happening in the morning.”

“Stay as long as you want, folks. But after eleven, you buy your own damn drinks,” I add, pointing a finger down the table at Novy.

She sighs, craning her neck to look up at the sky. Clouds are rolling in off the water, but just above us, the sky is clear, the stars shining. She pulls me to a stop, the surf licking at our heels as we stand there together in the dark. Slowly, she drops her gaze from the stars and looks at me, her body relaxed, her mood sanguine. “I love you, Ryan.” I step in, cupping her face, and kiss her lips. Now that dinner is over, and all the pictures are taken, I don’t care if I mess up her lipstick. I don’t care if it smears all over me. I’m done not kissing my girl. She presses back with a little hum of delight, her lips parting to meet mine. I keep one hand on her cheek, wrapping the other around her waist, not caring that my shoes drop to the sand. She presses in, her tongue teasing mine, as the swell of her breasts push against my chest. I sink my hand into her hair, fingers gripping, as I tip her head back, devouring her mouth.

“I need to be inside you,” I pant against her lips, gripping tighter to her hair. “Ryan—mmmph—” I silence her protest with another kiss. She’s gonna say something dumb about how we’re ‘waiting until our honeymoon’ because it’s ‘fun.’ Well, fuck that. This time last week, I was fucking my wife whenever and however I wanted. Then she swooped in with her suitcase and her teasing smile and cut me off without warning. If I knew pressing her against the kitchen counter was all I was gonna get for a week, I would have kept her bent over that damn counter all morning long. “I want to be inside my wife,” I beg. “Tess, baby, I almost died at sea, remember?” She laughs, pulling away from me. “I was practically fish food. Do you remember that? Remember my heroic return?”

“Tess, if you’ve got dirt on the guys, you have to tell me. I need it. It’s my only defense.” “If you want to know about your teammates’ sex lives, ask them.” I stop. “You’ve got to be joking.” “What?” She glances over her shoulder at me. “If I were you, I’d aim for Lukas or Jake. They have no boundaries and no filters. They’ll tell you anything you want to know.” My eyes go wide. I know without question she’s right. I also know I don’t think I could handle it. I hurry after her like the whipped puppy I am. “So that’s a ‘no’ to me taking you back to my bungalow and fucking you passionately?” She laughs. “Sorry, babe. Honestly, I think a sex cleanse is good for us. Makes the wanting all the sweeter, don’t you think? Watching you eat that cake earlier was practically orgasmic. Just wait until tomorrow night. Then I’m all yours with a sweet little cherry on top.” “I prefer whipped cream,” I tease.

“I’m glad you didn’t stay lost at sea. Now, give me exactly one kiss, and say goodnight.” I swallow the disgruntled sound in my throat and lean forward. She does the same, eager to meet me halfway. At the last moment, I turn my lips away from hers and grab her hair in a tight fist, pulling her to me. She gasps and I tilt her head, lowering my lips to that spot on the left side of her neck that turns her into jelly. The spot just above the curve of her shoulder, a quarter inch in towards her throat. I press my lips there parting them a little, and hold, breathing out through my nose against her skin. Like magic, my girl goes weak for me, her hands fluttering up to grip my elbows as her pulse races. “Oh god…”

“You don’t fight fair.” I smirk. “For you? Never. I will become the most unscrupulous of men if it means you let me inside that door. I will lie, cheat, and steal. I’ll lose myself for the chance to find the wet heat between your legs with my tongue.” She leans away, eyes wide, as she steps back and presses herself up against the door.

“Go ahead, wife,” I tease, brushing the tip of my nose along her jaw to speak in her ear. “Tell me you’re not wet for me. Tell me that perfect pink cunt isn’t ready to weep for her master.”

“Oh yeah…she knows who owns her,” I taunt, brushing a finger down her throat, trailing it between her breasts. “She can hear my call from a mile away.”

“Say it, Tess. Lie to me and say you’re not aching to sit on my dick. My queen on her throne.”

“And I’m moist at best. But that probably had more to do with how good that cake tasted. Maybe I’ll have a bellboy bring me another slice.”

“Tell your pussy to be a good girl tonight,” I say in parting. “Tomorrow she better be ready to be all kinds of bad.”

“Hello?” “Ryan?” My heart fucking stops. It’s Tess and she’s crying. “Tess?” “Can you come here?” I fling back the covers and launch off the side of the bed, looking for my shorts in the dark. “Baby, what’s wrong?” “I don’t know—I think—did you eat the ceviche?” I tuck the phone in at my shoulder, ignoring the pain of my sunburn as I tug on my pants. “The—what? Baby, are you sick?” “Please, will you just come?” “Two minutes.”

The room is dark, the sheets on the bed mussed. “Babe?” “In here,” she calls weakly. I hurry over to the bathroom in the corner and gently pull back the door. Tess is lying half-naked on the tile floor. Her only clothes are a pair of cotton undies. Her hair is twisted up into a knot on top of her head. A few tendrils hang down, slicked to her forehead with sweat. “Oh…baby.” I drop to my knees at her side, inching up by her legs. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry—” “Hey, don’t,” I say, cutting her off. “Always wake me. You know that.” I brush the back of my hand over her sweaty brow. “You don’t feel fevered.” “Did you eat the ceviche?”

“I…think so. It had that peppery vinaigrette, right?” “Rachel didn’t eat any of it and neither did Shelby or Poppy,” she says, crawling up to her knees with a groan. I help her as best I can. “I think it gave me food poisoning. How much of it did you eat?” I shake my head. “Uhh…I don’t know. Maybe a forkful or two. I liked the paella stuff better. And I ate like a thousand of those conch fritters with the spicy dipping sauce.” “Well, I ate a whole bowl of the ceviche,” she whimpers. “In the moment, I thought it tasted so good but now…” She leans her face over the toilet bowl, bracing herself with her arms.

“How long have you been like this?” “A couple hours.” I sigh, leaning my hip against the sink. “Baby, you should have called me sooner.” “I didn’t want to bother you. You were so tired.” “Hey.” I duck down into a crouch, brushing the little wispy curls off her forehead. “You’re my wife, Tess. You are my whole fucking world. My reason. We have a death pact now, remember? And while I agreed to let you go first, today is not that day.”

“Are you sure it’s food poisoning?” She nods, eyes closed. “Yeah, I’ve had it before a couple times.” “What are your symptoms?” “Look at me,” she replies weakly, gesturing to her half naked body slumped on the floor. “Okay…well, so vomiting, obviously,” I say, ticking it off on my finger. “Chills and sweating. Any nausea?” “Yes,” she groans, crawling back into position, her hands bracing against the toilet bowl. “And stomach cramps. It feels like someone’s squeezing them in a tight fist—urghh—”

“What can I do for you, baby? How can I help?” “You can’t. There’s nothing. Leave me on this floor to die.” I smirk, crossing my arms. “Nope. Remember, I told you, that’s not happening today. Once we get your stomach empty, I’ll help you get back in bed. I’ll set you up with a trash can and some water. Want anything to be more comfortable now?” She shifts the washcloth off her forehead, blinking up at me. “Oh god…Ryan…look at you.” With a raised brow, I shift fully into the bathroom and look in the mirror. My eyes go wide. Okay, so it’s not like I had no tan before. I live in Florida, and I regularly run on the beach with my shirt off. I had a definite base layer of tan going. But now, I swear to god, I look like a human candy cane. My shoulders, nose, and cheeks are an unnatural shade of red. Like, verging on purple. We’ll call it maroon. It makes the rest of my skin look milky white in comparison. “Well, fuck. That’s gonna peel real nice,” I add, turning to smile down at her. “There’s a jar of Aquaphor in my suitcase,” she says with a weak wave of her arm. “You need to get that skin some moisture, or it’s gonna get ten times worse.”

“Look at us,” I say with a grin. “A pair of champions.” She snorts a weak laugh despite herself. “Yeah, this is the dream, baby.” I switch to the other shoulder, wincing as I slather myself. “Stick with me, and life will be one adventure after another.” Now she’s full smiling. “You’re crazy.” “Crazy in love,” I tease. She groans, flopping onto her back, her sweaty tits peaked with rosy perfect nipples. “God…we have to be up in like three hours.” “Eh, sleep is overrated.” “We have to get married tomorrow,” she says with a dramatic fling of her hand. “We’re already married. Next?” “Well, we have all those guests waiting for us,” she whines. “They’re gonna expect me to be like…chipper and shit. And I don’t think I can do it, Ryan. I really don’t.” “They can go fuck themselves. I just paid, like, five thousand dollars for poisoned ceviche.”

“But before I commence with my own litany of grievances, can I just add that I think you’re so beautiful when you have food poisoning. Your breasts in particular look immaculate from this angle. You have no idea.” They jiggle as she fights a laugh. “That’s it, baby. Jiggle those tits for daddy—” “Ohmygod, stop,” she cries, still laughing. She bands a hand over the girls, trying to hold them still. “Yeah, touch yourself…just like that—” “Hey, there’s an ocean just outside, right? Good. Go walk into it and count to a thousand.”

Reaching out, I stroke up and down her calf with my fingertips. Her body relaxes and she stretches out a little, seeking more of my touch. I tip my head back, closing my eyes, and just keep stroking her leg. As long as she’s in this bathroom, this is where I’ll be too. For better or worse. Besides, we’ve had our fill of bad karma for the weekend. Everything will look better in the morning.

“Umm…so was there a plan B?” Jake stands at my shoulder in his tux, dark hair slicked back, his expensive cologne wafting around him in a tasteful cloud. He can do elegance in his sleep. I don’t know why I had to pick a best man who will upstage me in every freaking picture. I look out the window of this suite we’re using as our ‘ready room.’ It has a great view of the beach, including the chosen spot for our ceremony. Several neat little rows of chairs are set up to face a flowery archway. The ocean is our backdrop. It’s gorgeous, a truly unbeatable location. Or at least it would be…if it wasn’t pouring down rain.

Because of course it would rain the very hour we’re planning to have our ceremony. I sigh, turning away from the window. Before I can respond to Jake, Doc peeks her head into the room. “Uhh, Ryan? Tess wants to talk to you for a sec.” Jake holds a hand up to my chest. “He can’t see her before the wedding, babe. That’s bad luck.” I can’t help but laugh. “We’re so far fucking past that, you have no idea.” I step past him, looking to Rachel. “Where is she?” She leads the way down the hallway and around the corner. I take in her pretty black dress. “Doc, you look dynamite.” She smiles up at me. “Thanks, Ry.” “How is she?” Her smile gets decidedly pinched. “Surviving I think is the term.”

“Tess? It’s me, baby.” The door opens to reveal Shelby, also in a black dress. “Do not upset her,” she hisses in welcome. “We just got her makeup fixed again.” My eyes go wide as she pulls open the door and says in a normal voice, “Tess, Ryan is here.” The door swings open to reveal my Tess standing in front of a trifold mirror in a wedding dress. I think the fit is called mermaid, where it’s sort of tight at the top and flares out at the bottom. Her veil is already in place, covering her red curls, falling down her back to the floor. Our eyes meet in the mirror. She looks flawless, her makeup smooth and even, effortlessly covering those dark circles we both know she has. “Let’s give these two a minute,” says Rachel, gesturing to Poppy, who stands at Tess’s side. Her bridesmaids all leave with Poppy shutting the door. I still haven’t taken my eyes off my wife. “Tess…god, you look so beautiful—” “It’s raining,” she says, her bottom lip quivering.

“I just wanted one thing to go right,” she whispers, closing her eyes. I step closer. “Well, no matter how it happens, by the end of the day, you and I will be married…again,” I add. “I’d say that’s the only thing that needs to go right today. Honestly, I don’t care where we do it.” She sighs, glancing longingly out the window. “I just really had my heart set on the beach wedding,” she admits. “I know you did, baby.” “We met on the beach. We stood in that surf, and everything changed.” I nod. “Yeah, it did.” She turns to me, her beautiful face framed in the white of that veil that’s leaving me feeling breathless. “And then the night of the turtle gala…that horrible night with Troy…I found you on the beach. I ran to you.” Heart in my throat, I nod again. “You did.” “I ran home to you, Ryan. The beach is where I found you, and it’s where I made you mine. I want to commit myself to you where the surf meets the sand. I wanna get married on the beach.” I close the distance between us, taking her hands in mine. “Then let’s do it. Tess, baby, I’ll walk into that thunderstorm right now and marry you.” She blinks, tears in her eyes. “You would?” “Hell, yeah.” I cup her face, pressing closer. “When are you gonna learn that there is literally nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”

“Wait—are you serious? You wanna go right now and get married in the rain?” She nods. “Yeah. Just you and me. It will always be you and me.” I raise a brow at her. “Tess, you’ll get wet—your dress, your veil.” “I don’t care.” “Your makeup will run.” “I don’t care. Besides, my mascara is waterproof. It’s a good test of the product. Quality control and whatnot.” I narrow my eyes at her, holding back the worst for last. “Your hair will get messed up.” She smiles, enunciating each word. “I. Don’t. Care.” “Oh, yeah? And what about the fifty other people who came here to watch us get married?” She shrugs. “We fed them poisoned ceviche, didn’t we? And we’re feeding them again for brunch. And we scheduled that glass-bottom boat tour for everyone tomorrow.”

“Yeah…babe, I think that boat sank yesterday.” Her eyes go wide. But then she shrugs again. “Eh, there’s still the brunch. And they can watch from the windows.” I laugh. “So, wait…are we doing this? Are we going out onto that beach and getting married in a thunderstorm?” Now her smile looks radiant. “Yes. I’m not waiting to see if maybe it clears up in a few hours. Marry me, Ryan. Run with me down to that beach, and vow to be mine forever.” I match her smile, squeezing her hand. “Let’s do it.” I turn to lead her to the door, but she pulls me to a stop. “Baby, no—if we go that way they’ll try and stop us,” she whispers with a shake of her head. “Your mom, Poppy—they’ll tie me to the chair, and then they’ll make me pose for more pictures.” “Then what do you propose?” With a wicked glint in her eyes, she pulls me over to the lanai and slides open the glass door. “Tess, no—” “We’re on the first floor—” “Tess,” I growl, gripping tight to her hand as I hold her back. “This is not a first-floor room. That is a ten-foot drop!” I wave dramatically out at the railing. She huffs. “It’s six feet if it’s an inch.”

My eyes are wide as I stare at her. “I’ve changed my mind,” I say, shaking my head. “I want the opposite of whatever a marriage is. I want unmarriage.” She gasps. “Ryan Scott Langley, are you threatening me with the ‘D’ word while I’m wearing a wedding dress?” “No. I was very careful. That is a word that will never pass my lips—” “Oh, but ‘unmarriage’ is acceptable?” “Wait—when did you learn my middle name?” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously? We’re married, Ryan. Something you’re apparently reconsidering. I know your birthdate too. And your social. And your bank card number. I could ruin you, Ryan Scott Langley.”

“Ryan? What is that look? What are you gonna do?” I turn to her, my adrenaline pumping. “My wife wants to remarry me on the beach in the rain? My wife gets what she wants. Come on.” I pull her forward, heading for the door. “Ryan,” she shrieks, hurrying after me. “Wait—my veil—” I stop at the door, glancing over my shoulder to watch her bundle it up in her hand. “Okay, go,” she says, that wild glint still in her eyes. I pull open the door and stride into the sitting room, pulling Tess along behind me. Everyone in the room startles. Rachel and Shelby jump away from the door as if they weren’t just trying to listen in. “Ryan?” “Tess, what’s happening?” “Do you want me to get the photographer?” “Change of plans, everyone,” I call out as we stride across the room. “My wife and I will be getting remarried on the beach right now. Anyone wishing to watch can do so from the safety of the windows in the lobby. Spread the word.”

“Everyone, uhh…on behalf of my wife and myself, I wanna say thanks so much for coming to our second wedding.” The crowd cheers again. I wave for silence. “Yeah, you know, you’re all great friends, and we love you and…wait here.” A chorus of confused questions filter across the small crowd as our bridesmaids and groomsmen come chasing us down the hallway. “You guys are crazy,” Poppy shrieks. “Yeah, crazy in love,” Tess counters. She turns to the crowd. “Listen everyone, Ryan and I are going out there now. I wanted a beach wedding, and gosh darn it, that’s what I’m gonna get. Stay here, stay dry, and we’ll head straight to the reception after.” A few people laugh, but most people smile. A couple teammates cheer. “Get it done, Langers!” “Go get married again, you wild love birds—” “Bring an umbrella!” “Oh, and someone find us some towels,” Tess calls over her shoulder. I’m already pulling her through the door onto the back patio.

Offshore, the thick clouds are almost black with storm, rolling steadily closer. The water, which was aquamarine, is now a muddy grey, crashing against the sand in angry, white-capped waves. All the flags down the beach are red in warning, tugging at their poles as the wind whips them into a fury. This is crazy—quite possibly dangerous—but I don’t fucking care. I’m already drenched to the bone, my suit clinging to me, as I pound through the sand. The heavens above us pour down relentlessly. “Oh my god,” Tess shrieks. “Ryan, this dress weighs a thousand pounds—”

She looks like someone pushed her into the swimming pool. But in her eyes, I see joy, pure and unbridled. She laughs, reaching for me with both hands. I walk us right up to the water’s edge, not caring as the waves crash against my ankles, filling my expensive leather shoes with saltwater. She stands with me, our hands clasped. “So how do we do this?” I call over the storm. “Doesn’t it have to be officiated to be legal?” “It’s already legal,” she calls back, wiggling her hand at me where a pair of diamond rings already rest. Right, we got married mid-season, which meant there was no chance to celebrate. This trip was only ever about the fun and fanfare, a chance to show off with my girl and escape the grind for a few days. Laughing, I shake my head as the waves crash in behind us and the rain pours down. “What the hell are we doing out here? We’re already fucking married.” “We’re married,” she echoes, a wide smile on her face. “Look at me, I’m standing here in a wedding dress, and I’m already married.” “Oh yeah? Well, I paid for this whole damn wedding weekend…and I’m already married!”

“Tell me you love me.” I cup her face with both my hands, my fingers brushing against her wedding veil. “Teresa Rose Langley,” I call over the storm. “I’ll love you forever, I swear to fucking god.” She smiles up at me looking radiant, her hands wrapping around my wrists as I continue to cup her face. God, she’s mine. “You know my middle name,” she says, and I know tears are mixing with the rain on her cheeks. I nod and smile. “Yeah…seemed like something a husband should know.” “I love you, Ryan. Being your wife makes me happier than I ever thought I could be. I’ll love you forever. Forever and forever. Just kiss me and say I’m yours.”

We break apart, laughing, hands clinging, to see half our guests are standing out in the rain with us. A few have umbrellas, but most are just letting the rain pour down. Holding hands, we make our way back up the beach and into the resort lobby where the rest of our guests are waiting. The resort staff make quick work of passing out champagne and towels and we toast to our happiness looking like we all swam to this resort all the way from Florida.

“Hey, babe.” I toss my arm over the back of Tess’s chair and lean in closer. She turns away from Rachel and looks up at me with a playful bat of her lashes. “Yes, husband?” I smirk. If I have my way, she’ll say that again from her knees. “I have one last surprise for you.” She goes still, eyes widening. “I don’t know if I can handle another surprise…” Next to her, Rachel laughs. “It’s a good one, I promise. I rented us a special bungalow for tonight. Well, for the rest of our stay actually.” Her excitement returns. “Really? Special how?” I’ve been bursting to tell her about it since I booked it months ago. “It’s an overwater villa. They only have three, so they’re hard to book but—” She gasps, lifting a hand to her mouth. “Shut up, you did not.” I grin. “I did.” “No.” She gasps again. “I contacted them months ago to try and book one, but they said they were already reserved.” I puff out my chest a little, pleased to see she’s so happy. “Yeah, by me. I booked it the day after we got married.”

“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Tess coos. “Oh, baby, look at that view.” She holds my hand with both of hers as we make our way to the villa on the far end. Our valet walks us down the narrow boardwalk that connects the villa to the beach. “The fridge is stocked just as you asked, Mr. Langley,” he says. “All your belongings were transferred here. Anything else you may need is just a phone call away.” “Thanks,” I reply, tipping him at the door.

“Ryan, it has an infinity pool!”

She hurries back over to me, and I sweep her up in my arms. “Ryan, what—” I silence her with a kiss, shifting my hold on her. “Ryan, put me down—” “Not a chance.” I hurry over to the door. “Babe, I have to grab your sunburn—” “Ow, ow, ow—fuck—” I use her feet to push open the door and shuffle us sideways through it, all while her arm does murder to my sunburned shoulder. “Babe—” “Just let me have my moment,” I pant, moving through the entryway into the main part of the villa. It’s really just one big, segmented room.

“The husband has to carry his bride over the doorstep,” I say, weaving around the couch. “I didn’t get to do it the first time.” “Well, we’re in,” she squeals. “The threshold has been crossed, now put me down!” I set her down right in front of the feature I most wanted her to see. The feature I most wanted to see. She gasps, stepping back on instinct. Half the floor is made up of a pane of thick glass, giving you an aquarium-like view into the water below. “Oh god, it’s so beautiful! Ryan, look at the fish.” She drops down to her knees, hands pressed to the glass as she watches them dart back and forth over a craggy piece of grey rock.

The stress of the last two days, paired with the denial of the last week, has us both feeling desperate. We can be slow and sensual later. Right now, I need my wife. We kiss and touch, pulling at each other’s clothes like we’re being timed for efficiency. She unbuttons my white dress shirt, only slowing to peel it carefully off my shoulders. Even as she does, she’s stepping in to press kisses to my chest. She tosses the useless shirt aside, her hands dropping to my belt. I wrap my hands around her back, reaching for her zipper. Her dress unzips with the ease of sliding a hot knife through butter, the silky white fabric slipping off her freckled shoulders. “I’ve thought of taking you out of this dress for two days.”