Chapter Thirteen

Coco

S omething warm presses against my lips. I turn away with a groan, burrowing deeper into the softness surrounding me.

"Coco," Vale's voice cuts through the haze. "Stop resisting. You need to eat."

I ignore him, savoring the cocoon of warmth. Strange. I don't remember the rocks being this comfortable. Or downy-soft.

"Coco. Please." His plea almost sounds like a whimper. How can I refuse when he’s asking so nicely? Something nudges my mouth again, but this time it's different—warm and sweet. I instinctively lick my lips, and a rich liquid fills my mouth. Hot chocolate. Yum.

The sugary drink slowly coaxes me awake. I take a few more sips before finally opening my eyes, surprised to find myself in the cabin, nestled in Vale's arms on the floor. My last hazy memory is of him carrying me back, my body too exhausted to move.

"Good morning," he says, a smile in his voice.

I start to panic. "Is it? Did I sleep through—"

"No," he chuckles, gently easing me back down. "I'm teasing. You were only out for half an hour."

Relieved, I relax against him, stretching experimentally. To my amazement, there's no pain. Just a twinge of soreness that reminds me of the naughty things we’ve been up to. I turn to Vale with a delighted grin. "I feel great! No pain at all."

He nods, smiling. "Guess that oil really does work. We'll have to see if Az can—"

"Don't," I groan, feeling my cheeks flush. "I'm still recovering from the embarrassment."

His laugh vibrates through his chest as I stretch against him, savoring the warmth of the fire. “What's next on the agenda?” he asks.

I smile slyly. “Well, I didn't plan much beyond the photo op for Nymphstagram. But . . .” I reach for my bag, pulling out a worn card box. “I could teach you my family's favorite game.”

"Only if you eat first," he counters.

"A deal’s a deal.”

After a quick meal, we settle by the fire as I shuffle and deal the cards. "It's like Uno, but—"

"Great, I know Uno—"

"Like Uno," I emphasize, "but with a twist. The goal is to end up with all the cards.”

He raises an eyebrow. "Pretty sure that's not regulation."

I roll my eyes, placing the deck between us. "It's not. It's the Sullivan family special. We play every Christmas." My voice catches unexpectedly, and I duck my head, suddenly very interested in my cards. The realization that this will be my first Christmas away from them hits hard. Thanksgiving was difficult enough, but this . . .

Vale's warm hand covers mine, and I look up to meet his concerned gaze. "It’s okay to miss your family, Coco," he says softly. It's not quite a question.

I nod, blinking back the sudden moisture in my eyes. "I know.”

"Have you told your mom about the clinic's improvement?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "That would mean admitting it was struggling in the first place. But yes, I've been talking to her more now that I'm not drowning in guilt."

Vale's expression is thoughtful. "You should tell her everything, Coco. From an unbiased outsider's perspective, it sounds like you two have a special bond. I'm sure she wants to hear about the highs and the lows."

I arch a brow. “Everything?”

He grimaces. “Everything, except maybe the fake marriage bit. That might be hard to explain over the phone.”

I exhale slowly, considering his words. "You're starting to sound like a real therapist," I tease, but there's truth in it. "Maybe you're right. It's just . . . hard to admit when I'm not living up to expectations."

"Whose expectations?" Vale asks gently. "Yours or hers?"

The question hangs in the air, and I find myself truly pondering it for the first time. "I'm not sure anymore," I admit.

Vale squeezes my hand. "Maybe that's something worth figuring out. In the meantime . . ." He grins, gesturing to the cards. "Teach me this bizarre, backwards Uno of yours. I have a feeling I'm going to need all the practice I can get before facing the Sullivan family."

His words, implying a future beyond our current arrangement, send an unexpected warmth through me. I laugh, pushing aside the heavier thoughts for now. “Oh, you have no idea what you're in for,” I warn, dealing the first hand. “Just to warn you, the game gets very heated at my house. You’ll have to keep an eye out for my dad. He likes to cheat and jab with his elbow to get more cards.”

L ater that night, Vale and I watch the last burning embers from our spot on the bed. After sharing a full-size mattress for so long, the California king feels like a luxurious behemoth. But part of me misses our little bed back home. We have no choice but to cuddle there.

Vale's arms still hold me as he drifts off to sleep. I'm exhausted, but my mind races, unable to settle. The holidays loom ahead, bringing a mix of excitement and melancholy. And then there's Vale leaving. The question of him asking me to be his date for the premiere hangs in the air, refusing to leave me alone long enough to let me fall asleep. I know he wasn't serious, but part of me wishes I could go. To walk that red carpet and show the world that this marriage is real. Because this right here, feels fucking real.

But who am I kidding? In the real world, Vale deserves someone like Aria by his side—his gorgeous co-star who actually belongs in his glittering Hollywood life. Not me, the small-town therapist who geeks out over outdated sci-fi shows. Sure, right now, cuddled up in this cabin, tucked safely away in the mountains, this thing between us feels perfect and strong enough to withstand anything. But let’s be real, I've got patients who need me and a clinic I've poured my heart into. I can't just up and leave. And Vale? God, he's way too talented to give up on his dreams for some small town in Idaho. The idea of him sacrificing his career makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Still . . . picturing him walking that red carpet with someone else? It hurts. Like chest palpitations kind of hurt. Which is ridiculous—this whole thing is pretend. I shouldn't care. But I do. I so do. And I don't know what to do with that feeling.

Whether or not I go, Vale deserves his perfect moment at the premiere. As I stare at the dying fire, my frenzied mind works overtime, trying to find a solution. How can I make sure he gets to the premiere, to have the spotlight moment he's worked so hard for?

"What burdens your mind, star traveler?" Vale's voice, rough with sleep and mimicking Thraxxius's accent, startles me from my thoughts.

I look up at him in surprise and let out a laugh. "Oh my God, you actually sound just like him. That's amazing. Does this mean you like the show?"

His expression is unreadable for a moment. Finally, he stretches, pulling me closer into him. “The verdict is still out,” he says noncommittally.

Fair enough. But I know it's growing on him. He's just too proud to admit he likes a nerdy show, but I see the delight on his face whenever I turn on Quantum. We're almost through the third season now. Though usually when I turn to watch him, he's already watching me. As much as I want to force him into loving my favorite show, I suspect the only reason he tolerates the corny dialogue and outdated props is because of how happy it makes me.

"But seriously," he says, his tone softening. "What's on your mind? You were thinking so loud you woke me up.”

I laugh, turning to face him. I let out a surprised gasp when he hoists me onto his lap, our bodies flush against each other. I study his face for a moment, desperately wanting to ask if he was serious about the premiere. Would he really take me as his date? Or is it just an act, something he says to make me feel better because we're both ignoring the inevitable?

Instead, I deflect. "Do you think you could pull some strings to get Quantum up and running again? Or at least ask the writers to address the cliffhanger.”

He bursts into laughter, shaking his head.

I gently thump his chest. "What? I'm serious! Use your Hollywood connections!"

"I'm not that powerful!" he chuckles. "Not even remotely. I’m just a lowly actor, not a Hollywood exec. And even if I was, that still wouldn't be enough. There's so much that goes into something like that.”

I groan, burying my face in his chest. When I look up again, he's studying me closely, a softness in his eyes that makes my heart skip. "Fine. But could you get me an autograph from the actress who played Nylara? Maybe your manager could get in touch with her manager." I'm joking, mostly, but there's a part of me that wonders—what's the point of having a movie star husband if you can't pull a few strings?

His mouth twitches like he wants to say something but stops himself. I narrow my eyes, suddenly curious. "What is it?"

"I'll see what I can do," he says mysteriously, his hands brushing down my waist to cup my ass through my pajama shorts. His grin turns devilish. "But what's in it for me?"

The heat in his gaze sends a shiver through me. I lean in close, my lips barely brushing his ear. "I'm sure we can work something out," I whisper, my heart racing with a mixture of desire and something deeper, something I'm not quite ready to name.

As Vale pulls me into a passionate kiss, I try to push away the nagging thoughts about our future. Without breaking our kiss, he sits up in bed, the blanket slipping down to our waists.

I shift slightly, feeling the unmistakable press of his hard cock through my pajamas. A soft moan escapes me as memories of his ridged length send jolts of heat to my core. His grip tightens on my hips, pulling me flush against him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice husky with desire.

I grind harder against him. “I want to.”

His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense. “I don’t have any oil left.”

“I don’t think we need it.” I guide his hand to the waistband of my shorts, letting him feel the wetness there between my legs—the desire for him, and only him .

He lets out a long, pained groan as his fingers slide between my folds. “Gods, Coco. You’re so wet. What am I going to do with you?”

I bite my lower lip as I lift my hips, stepping out of my shorts. Vale wastes no time, reaching for the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head. My breasts are now directly in his line of sight.

“Forty-three,” he murmurs to himself, his eyes darting across my naked chest.

I stop grinding to give him an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

He blinks up at me, surprised. “What? I’ve been keeping track of your freckles. I see forty-three, no forty-four, so far. But I’m sure you have more hiding somewhere . . .”

I laugh, shaking my head, as he runs a hand over my bare ass, supporting my weight. He’s not going to find any there, but I’m not going to stop him from looking.

As he frees his cock from his sweatpants, pulling the jersey material just below his waist, I lift up on my knees, lining up his tip at my entrance.

Just before I sink down, I reach for his horns, wanting to feel the smoothness under my palm. Who needs a headboard when you have a pair of horns to hold onto?

He jerks his head, turning away. I lose my balance, almost rolling off his lap. He steadies my hips with a rushed, “Sorry. I—”

I grab his face, forcing him to look me in the eye. He looks down, avoiding my gaze. "I'm sorry, Vale. I should have asked. If there's a part of you that you don't want me to touch, you can tell me—"

"No. No." He manages to meet my eyes. His vulnerable expression slips away as an easygoing smile spreads across his face. "Now are you ready for the ride of a lifetime, Miss Sullivan?" he asks, slipping into his Khastor drawl.

My heart doesn't do the excited little flip it normally does when I'm fangirling over Khastor. Because underneath the accent, I catch a glimpse of his insecurity. He slipped that mask on so quickly I almost didn't notice it.

I lean in, giving him a serious look. "I don't want Khastor. I want Vale."

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. But there it is again, the flicker in his eyes before he quickly hides it. I can't believe he's been wearing his mask, even in the bedroom with me. Now that I think about it, even though I saw his mask slip at the hot spring, I didn't realize how much he was hiding behind it. How much he wasn't showing me. I feel guilty I was so lost in the moment I didn't realize how much he was holding back.

His smile slowly falls. He laughs, but there's no humor behind it this time. "You don't know what you're asking. You don't want Vale. Not the real me. The fake version is better, trust me."

I stare deeply into his eyes, refusing to budge. "I’d like the opportunity to decide that for myself, if you’ll let me. What’s something Vale wants that has nothing to do with Khastor? If you didn’t feel obligated to perform for me, if the next words out of your mouth weren’t a script but something you genuinely want, what would you say to me, Vale?”

He hesitates, an internal battle raging behind his eyes. His smirk turns rueful. "You're going to regret asking that.”

"Try me."

He studies me for a moment longer, then motions to his bag on the floor. "Open the top pocket."

I study him for a moment, wondering if this is some kind of trick. He holds my gaze, completely serious. Finally, I push off his lap and step off the bed, heading towards his duffle. My eyes widen with surprise when I find the handcuffs I had hidden in the console of my car. When did he steal those?

I turn to him, the handcuffs dangling from my finger. "So, you want to handcuff me to the bed?" I ask with a sly smile.

His face is completely serious as he hesitantly says, "No. I want you to cuff m-m-me," he hesitates, swallowing his nerves. "Me," he corrects in a clear tone. "I want you to cuff me to the bed."