Chapter 24

TWENTY-FOUR

SILAS

The process of stripping Way naked and prepping him with my fingers wasn't new. Hell, he'd already let me do many, many things to his body in the three weeks we'd been together, including introducing him to the joys of prostate stimulation.

Knowing he was ready to bottom for me made me wonder if I was going to pop off prematurely like an overwrought preteen.

It was entirely possible. Waylon Fletcher had the kind of body that was truly god's gift to the world. He was trim and fit, strong and sculpted, and the man was completely at home in his own body. That kind of confidence made him even sexier.

I manhandled him over to the bed and shoved him down on it before yanking my own clothes off. "Lube," I said, hoping he'd grab it before I came all over my own stomach.

He grinned at me as he reached for the bottle. "Want me to?—"

"Not on your life," I hissed. "That ass is mine tonight. Move up and spread your knees for me. That's it. Fuck."

I slicked up my fingers and crawled up the bed between his legs. As soon as he pulled one knee up, I began teasing his hole, alternating lazy circles around his entrance with open-mouthed kisses to the inside of his thigh.

"Don't need much," he said between gritted teeth, tilting his ass toward me as if that would force my finger inside him.

"Liar."

"Go faster."

"Mm. Don't think so."

His hand palmed my head and tilted me up to face him. "Go. Faster. Asshole."

I grinned at him, happier than I could remember feeling in a long time, if ever. "Haven't you heard of foreplay?"

"Don't need it," he snapped. "Haven't you heard of a cocktease?"

I clamped my teeth around the tender skin of his inner thigh. He sucked in a breath and let out a debauched moan. "Haven't you heard of patience?" I asked before moving my mouth to his balls and breathing hot air against his skin. His moan deepened.

" Silas ."

The way he said my name when he was turned on… half whimpered and half growled… made my throat close up. I pressed my finger inside him to hear him say it again.

By the time I'd toyed with him enough, stretched him enough, his lower belly was sticky wet with precum, and the whimpering was no longer my name but unintelligible sounds. His fingers had grasped a clump of hair on my head and tugged ineffectively. Little did he know the pain only spurred me on. Only lit me up more.

"Knees up, baby," I murmured as I pulled my fingers out of him and moved my body higher on his. Way's skin was warm and damp, pink-flushed and glowing with need. "So damned sexy."

As I positioned myself and began to press inside him, the tight squeeze threatened to overwhelm me. "Y'okay?" I slurred. His body had tensed up. It took all of my self-control to stop and give him a moment to breathe.

"Go slow."

"I will." Even if it killed me.

I went as slowly as I could until he began begging me to go faster. Once I was fully inside him, the heat and squeeze of his body stole the air from my lungs. I felt like I couldn't get enough. Enough oxygen. Enough skin. Enough of Waylon Fletcher altogether.

His knees brushed my sides, the hair from his legs prickling against my skin. Sweat dampened the hair around his face, and his eyes looked nearly black in their aroused dilation. The scent of his precum and the scent of our bodies made me even hotter for him, if that was possible.

My rhythm sped up until I was chasing my release without any control left. I gripped his cock between us, creating an awkward tangle of bent limbs and heaving breaths. "Come, sweetheart," I urged. I was hanging on by a thread, but I needed him to get there first.

Way's hand gripped around mine and changed the pressure until his head tilted back and the tendons stood out on his neck. He groaned my name in long, drawn-out relief as his release warmed our fists.

I thrust into him twice more until my own orgasm raced up my spine and whited out my brain.

It took me a while to catch my breath and corral my wayward thoughts.

"Holy fuck," I breathed against the side of his face. "Fucking Christ."

He let out a weak laugh, causing me to slide out of him. I snuggled against him, half on top of him, despite our sweat-damp skin and the fog of heat surrounding us in the bed nook. Way's arms tightened around me.

"Yeah," he said with a huff of laughter.

"You—"

"I'm okay," he said, pre-empting my concern. He raked his fingers through my hair, lightly scratching my scalp with his nails the way I liked. "Very okay."

"Maybe don't ride Helios tomorrow," I suggested.

Way let out another laugh. "Yeah, maybe not."

I tilted my head up until my chin rested on his chest and I could see his face. "No regrets?"

There was clear affection in his expression that tightened my gut and made me feel helplessly happy.

"No regrets."

I laid my head back on his chest and ran my fingers lazily up and down the skin of his abs.

"Being married's not so bad," I offered with a grin Way couldn't see. "Better than most casual encounters ."

He poked strong fingertips under my arm until I yelped and winced away from him. "Being married to me is better, you mean."

"Of course that's what I meant! I've only had one husband, Way."

Way grabbed my chin and hauled my face up to meet his. And then he kissed me hard on the mouth in a soul-possessing, mind-melting, dick-hardening, marriage-affirming kiss.

The kiss turned into several more long minutes of appreciating my husband's body before finally admitting I needed a break and sustenance.

"You know Aunt Blake is expecting us at her cookout this weekend," Way reminded me after we showered and began poking around in the kitchen for something to eat. "It's her big Memorial Day party. Expect half the town."

I'd been around Way's family enough by now to know they were supportive and welcoming. "Why do you sound so unenthusiastic about it? Are you worried about someone discovering our ruse?"

He shook his head as he pulled a box of macaroni out of the cabinet and held it up with a question in his expression. I nodded and reached for the saucepan to fill it with water. If my friends could see me eating boxed Mac n Cheese, they'd never let me live it down.

"I'm not worried about that. I just…" Way sighed and turned to prop his ass against the counter while crossing his arms over his chest. "I just hate going further down this road when I know they're all going to be disappointed in me in July when you leave."

I forced myself to sit at the kitchen table so I wouldn't be tempted to touch him. "They love you. They'll understand."

"Will they?" He pursed his lips for a moment before inhaling. "They really like you. And the more time they spend with you, the more in lo—in like they fall."

"I like them, too, but Waylon…" I tried softening my voice so I didn't sound as annoyed as I was beginning to feel. "You can't have it both ways. You can't ask me to act like your true husband and then imply I need to keep from being friendly to your family."

"I know that."

I watched him to try and determine what was really going on in his head. He seemed to be struggling.

I gave up keeping my hands to myself and stood up again to rub the tension out of his shoulders while meeting his eyes. "Tell me what you want. Do you want me to be less friendly? Less helpful? Less like the kind of man you'd be married to? Maybe try to keep some distance? I could be less talkative. Stick around here more instead of coming into town."

He uncrossed his arms and ran his hands down my sides to my hips. "I don't understand why you're so willing to help me. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. You've gone along with everything I've asked of you, and now you're even willing to do the opposite."

I considered whether or not to confess the truth, the real reason I was inclined to do whatever he wanted. Waylon Fletcher was nearly impossible to lie to. He seemed like the kind of man whose integrity and determination were baked into the very core of his being.

"The night we met, you told me about offering yourself, your entire future, to a woman in need," I explained. "You were so genuine and kind you even felt guilty for accepting free drinks from strangers who offered them to you."

His eyebrows shot up. "Those drinks were fifteen bucks!"

I moved my hands to his chest. "You work your ass off for this town and for your family. You're overloaded and exhausted, and I refuse to contribute to that in any way. I will do whatever you think will bring you the most comfort and relief. Just tell me what it is."

Way quirked his lips into a cheeky grin. "You do a pretty good job of bringing me relief as it is, Silas."

I stepped closer to him and moved my hands around the back of his neck until my fingers found the flipped-up ends of the hair at his nape. "I believe it goes without saying I'm not taking sex off the table. Whatever else you want from me, Mayor, will come with a healthy helping of free sexual favors as well."

"And thank god for that."

I moved even closer until our stomachs brushed together. He stood up straighter, bringing his chest against mine. "I want you to be yourself," he murmured. "I don't want you to hold back or hide away."

"I can go back to being First Gentleman, then?" I teased. My eyes couldn't help but trace his full lips.

Way's hands were warm as they moved up my back to my shoulders. "I should be so lucky."

We kissed until the water in the saucepan boiled over and let out a loud hiss.

The family cookout at his Aunt Blake's went off without a hitch. After our conversation about my role in his life, Way seemed to lean into the subterfuge and embrace our relationship as happy husbands. We held hands and brought each other drinks and plates of food. When asked about issues around town by friends and neighbors, Way often asked my advice or indicated my willingness to help.

It took me a while to trust his mood after he'd been so prickly about my offers of help, but over the following few weeks, we settled into an easy routine, so easy it almost felt real. Way and I worked our asses off during the days, whether at the ranch, City Hall, or my own consulting job via online meetings, phone calls, and copious amounts of emails. At night, we came together as if we were touch-starved, satisfying the kind of lust I hadn't known existed outside of a porn set.

On the weekends, he introduced me to the joys of Majestic's adventure offerings. I tried rock climbing (hard pass, thanks), hiking (during which I made sure to be on vigilant snake alert), mountain biking (which did, in fact, require Squirrel's Nut Butter at least once), white water rafting (both terrifying and thrilling), and trail riding. Since the trail riding happened on private Fletcher land, it allowed for a hundred percent more casual encounters than any of the other adventures.

All in all, trail riding had turned out to be my favorite.

As June advanced toward July, preparation for the AdventureSmash exhibition ramped up, and the inevitable end of our marital charade loomed closer.

I tried not to think about it, but one day in late June, a call from Kenji brought it up in a way that I could no longer ignore.

"…not legally binding. So they wanted to make sure you didn't want an actual contract agreement with your… legal spouse . All the divorce paperwork has been prepared, and I'm overnighting you the copies Way needs to sign. I can notarize them after he sends them back as long as you Zoom with me when he signs them."

I'd been distracted by the sight of several kayakers paddling past the bench by the river where I'd chosen to take the video call. It was a gorgeous day, and I'd gotten tired of sitting at the kitchen table.

"Sorry, what?" I said, catching on the D-word.

"They apologized that it took so long."

"That what took so long? Preparing the divorce paperwork? I don't see why we need it until July."

"They assumed you wanted to start the clock on the six-month waiting period as soon as possible."

I couldn't bring myself to tell Kenji that I hadn't spent a single moment thinking about the divorce paperwork since the day I'd arrived in Majestic. Thinking about it now, the reality of filing for divorce, my divorce, from Waylon hit me harder than I expected. I stared out at the river. The water rushed by, causing the colorful boats to bob up and down as the current took them around the curve and on toward town.

"Silas?" Kenji's voice snapped my attention back.

"Yeah. Yes. Fine. Okay."

"So what about the additional contract? Yes or no?"

"I don't… Sorry. I'm distracted. What additional contract?"

"They keep asking me if you're sure you want to stick with just a statement of intent instead of a legally binding contract."

"What do you mean? I thought the statement of intent was legally binding?"

He paused and took a breath, a move I'd seen and heard him make a million times. "This is what I tried to tell you when you asked me to make it happen. A statement of intent isn't legally binding."

Landry's voice piped up from somewhere off-screen. "I still don't see why he doesn't just toss a few stacks of cash at the guy and come the fuck home. Surely he's had enough dick at this point to?—"

Without changing his facial expression, Kenji took his pen and shot it in the direction of Landry's voice. " As I was saying , the attorneys wanted me to check in with you about whether or not you wanted them to prep an actual contract or whether you want to let it ride. They said you should be okay once the divorce proceedings have begun but that Waylon will still have the option to contest it until it's final."

I couldn't get past the idea of filing for divorce. How would Way feel about it? Relieved? Annoyed? Indifferent?

"No."

"No… what?"

I cleared my throat. "No, I don't want to have him sign another contract."

He paused again. "You sure? As your legal spouse, he could?—"

"Yes," I snapped. "I'm positive. And just call him my husband, for fuck's sake."

"Understood," Kenji said softly.

Landry made a groan of disapproval. "Stop this nonsense and come home. I'm bored as fuck, and Kenji refuses to let me go to Pride Luminance."

"I don't know what that is," I murmured, stretching my neck by tilting my head side to side.

Kenji sighed. "It's a music festival where he will inevitably get roofied and be happy about it. Bash and Rowe are going to take him to the Hamptons instead. He's fine."

"Why is he even at the office right now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Next thing on the agenda is the list of questions from Tad about scheduling your quarterly investments call. I put it on the calendar for…"

I forced myself to pay attention to the rest of the call.

But thoughts of Way's reaction to receiving the divorce papers hung dark and heavy in the corners of my consciousness.