Would You Rather

by Allison Ashley

If he didn’t covet the look in Mia’s eyes when he wore blue, he’d throw out the damn shirt tomorrow.

A few seconds of silence passed and he leaned back in his leather chair. “Stop thinking so hard and just marry me already.”

I want a man who looks at me the way Mia looks at chicken wings.” Noah wanted Mia to look at him the way Mia looked at chicken wings.

Two years would be a long damn time. But if his choices were meaningless sex with a stranger while the woman he loved was waiting at home, or nothing? Nothing it would be.

“If you and I ever kissed for real, you’d know the difference.”

“Hey, Paula. If you could give us newlyweds once piece of advice for a long, happy marriage, what would it be?” “That’s easy. Never stop showing affection.” She winked. “You’d be surprised how much a simple touch can mean to someone you love.”

Noah straightened and pulled the ring from his finger. He held up the band between them. “You really think this is what’s keeping me here? I’d be here, with or without it. The quicker you get that through your head, the better.”

When you walk away, he always watches you go. And you always look back.”

“I know you’ve got this in you. We can totally do this.” “Are you giving me a pep talk before we have fake sex?” “Is it working?”

“I am? You—you want me?” He looked at her like she’d just asked if he liked to climb mountains. “Of course I do.” “For how long?” “For forever.” She blinked as her mind raced to process what that meant. “Like, since that night in college?” He released an incredulous laugh, though his expression remained serious. “Yes. And every night after.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” “You said you just wanted to be friends.” She stumbled over the words. “So did you.” “I lied,” he said simply. One breath. Then two. “So did I.” “Well, then.” His eyes burned like fire. “Let’s go home.”

His lips moved to her ear, his breath hot on her neck as he rasped, “You’re my wife. My wife.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her skin. “Mine.”

“Don’t do that.” “I can’t help it,” she whispered, unable to muster any embarrassment. The moment was too perfect. “All the times I’ve imagined making love to you, you were never crying.”

“Don’t sleep in the guest room again,” he growled into her ear as he approached the bed. “As long as you’re here, this is where you belong.”

For almost ten years, I’ve wished for you.

So it was strange that defining how he felt in this moment was like groping around in the dark. Bumping into anger, stubbing his toe on frustration. Being forced to his knees by heartbreak. He was at a loss.

The thing we fear most has the greatest reward.

“I’ll always come back for you. Always.”

“I love you.” “Yeah?” He smiled. “Well. I loved you first.”