4. Chapter 4

Teddy cooks us dinner. Like, a whole meal. There's chicken breasts, sauteed vegetables in some sort of brown sauce, and rice.

"I take it back," I moan. "Best husband ever."

Teddy snorts, something he's been doing a lot of, like he's trying hard not to laugh outright. But he's smiling again, and that makes me feel a lot better, despite the whole invading his house and his life thing.

We're eating at the island countertop, which also serves as his table. He could probably fit a dining table in the space next to us, but instead, he has some gym equipment set up there. Between us and the hallway that leads back to the bedrooms is the living room. Even with the gym equipment in plain sight, his apartment looks nothing like a bachelor pad. It's thoughtfully decorated, with black-and-white canvases along the walls and a rather comfortable-looking sectional opposite the large TV.

"How old are you?" I ask.

Teddy's eyebrows lift. "Thirty-six. Why?"

"Just wondering," I say, waving my fork. "You seem so…put together."

He huffs a laugh. "Thanks."

My phone takes that moment to vibrate from inside my pocket, but I ignore it. "Where's that?" I ask, pointing at the canvas closest to us. It looks like a small town, the houses crammed together, flowers hanging out windows and trees squeezed into the empty spaces along the sides of the cobbled street.

"Quebec," he answers. "I grew up there."

"Is that where your grandparents still live?" I ask, piecing two and two together.

He nods, drinking some water before speaking. "Did you grow up here?"

"In Vegas? No. Born Midwesterner. My family lives in Indiana."

He hums, and my foot taps against the bottom rung of my chair.

"Is this weird?" I blurt, setting down my fork. "It's weird, right? Like, we barely know each other, and suddenly, we're sitting down to dinner, talking about our pasts, and playing house as if we're married."

We are. We are married.

"It's not weird," Teddy says calmly. "It's nothing different than what people do on a date."

"Yeah, but we're not dating," I say slowly. "Are we?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "We're not."

"Okay, so…"

"Stop overthinking, Kipp."

I huff. "Do you even know me? Overthinking is what I do."

Teddy eyes me then, something unnervingly focused in his gaze. Sometimes, I swear the man is two people. There's genial, teddy bear Teddy, whose mouth is always turned in a smile and who speaks soothingly, like he has a degree in setting people at ease. And then there's the hawk-like Teddy, who goes still and silent, a predator hunting prey.

I probably shouldn't enjoy being the potential mouse in this scenario, and yet I can't help but wonder what would happen if I run.

"Try not to worry over this," he says, sharp expression clearing. "Do you need help getting the rest of your things?"

"Nah, it's not much," I tell him. "All the furniture and stuff came with the apartment."

He nods. "Done with dinner?"

"Yeah, all set," I say, my plate practically licked clean. "Thanks again for cooking."

He squeezes the back of my neck as he stands, and I have to work real damn hard on not making a sound. His hand is so big.

Teddy picks up my plate and loads our dishes into the washer. Reluctantly, I pull my phone from my pocket. There are a barrage of comments on my Instagram posts, congratulating me and Teddy. I don't know why I haven't taken the pictures down. I should, but… They're so nice. So normal, almost, despite the circumstances that led to our drunk wedding and the fact that the whole thing is a sham. But we look happy, and even if it is fake, I can't quite make myself get rid of the lie.

"I'm going to take a shower," Teddy says, rousing me from my phone. "Feel free to look around or watch TV. There are a few streaming services to choose from."

"Thanks," I mutter, my mind stuck on the shower part of what he said. I don't think I truly considered what living in close proximity to this man would mean. "Can I watch you?"

Teddy laughs as he disappears down the hall, and I groan to myself.

"It was a serious question," I mumble.

I do busy myself with TV, but my thoughts won't stop running wild. Again and again, I go over the implications of staying married. For now. Surely Teddy will tell his coworkers it's not real, so no problem there. I'll be lying to my family, but it's either disappoint them now or disappoint them later. I'd rather deal with it later. And when it comes to my coworkers, what's the harm? People get married for all sorts of different reasons, and love doesn't always factor in. It's not like I have to pretend to love Teddy. I'm just pretending to be his husband. I am his husband, so it's not even a lie. Right?

When Teddy plops down next to me and a waft of spicy vanilla something hits my nose, I groan. "What is that?"

He looks at me curiously.

"The…" I wave my hand his way, trying to ignore his wet hair and the small damp spot between his pecs on his low-cut tank top. "Jesus. The, uh, that smell. What is it?"

His lips hike up on one side as he sets his heel on the coffee table, affording me a rather nice view of his crotch. "Tom Ford."

"Uh-huh," I mutter. "And, uh, how'd you get into porn?"

Teddy huffs a laugh. "I needed to get away from a job and a partner, and it seemed like the perfect fit."

His words are said with a casual air, but there has to be a story there. "Well, you're good at it."

He gives me a smile. Not quite a smirk, but close. He knows he looks hot while fucking. He looks hot all the time, frankly, but especially then. When his light brown skin is dappled in sweat, the muscles in his thighs and ass flexing. When his hands are spread over hips or ass cheeks, his eyes focused and smoky dark. When his cock—

Nope. Shut it down.

I adjust myself as discreetly as possible.

"What time do you usually go to bed?" Teddy asks.

I swallow down my moan. "Eleven or so?"

"Same. That'll work well."

"Uh-huh," I say weakly. "So good."

By the time bedtime arrives, I'm contemplating jumping out a window.

"Maybe I should just take the couch," I say as Teddy brushes his teeth in the en suite.

"If you want," he responds. "The bed is more comfortable, though."

"Sure, sure. Um, what if we have the same side, though?"

He sticks his head out the door. "I don't have a side."

"What?" I ask in shock. "That's not a thing."

"It is for me," he says, spitting into the sink. My mind immediately jumps to him spitting other things, and—No. Bad Kipp.

Refocusing, I ask, "You just, what, sleep wherever the hell you want?"

"Why is that so odd?" he replies, coming out of the bathroom. He strips his tank top over his head without a care in the world, utterly confident in his body. It's sexy as hell. He's sexy as hell. "Kipp?"

"Uh, yeah," I manage. "It's just…everyone has a side."

"Not me. Any other reasons?" he asks.

"Reasons for what?"

"You to avoid sleeping in my bed. You didn't have a problem with it last night."

"Right," I say slowly, hoping my blush doesn't show. This whole sleep with but don't fuck your husband thing is throwing me. I'm not used to spending nights platonically in someone else's bed. "It's fine. I like the left side."

"Left side in or left side looking from the footboard?"

I huff a laugh. "Left side in."

He waves me on, as if to say have at it.

"I'm just gonna piss," I say, heading for the bathroom. I do pee. And then I brush my teeth. And then I wash my face. And then I contemplate at what point Teddy will think I'm in here taking a shit. Before I reach that point, I head back into the bedroom.

The lights are set low, the overheads off with only a soft glow emanating from beneath the top of the headboard. It's nice. I've never seen a headboard like that. I get undressed without a word, opting to wear only my briefs like I normally do to bed. I'm not sure what Teddy's wearing under the sheet.

It feels odd, slipping in beside him. Despite knowing Teddy for well over a year, closer to two, I don't know him, not really. These past twenty-four hours have been like a small crash course into Teddy 101. But we're still only acquaintances at best. Maybe, given a little time, we could be friends. And then eventually, we'll get divorced. So, a pretty natural progression, all things considered.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind is a manic laugh.

"You're overthinking again," Teddy says, eyes dark yet warm in the limited light.

"Yeah," I admit.

Teddy reaches forward, fingers sifting through the hair at the side of my head. My eyes slip shut as he scratches there, like a tiny head massage.

"It'll be okay, Kipp," he says softly. "Whatever you think is best, we'll do. If you want to get an annulment, we can go file the paperwork on Monday."

"No," I say, not yet opening my eyes. "I'd rather wait. I just…"

"It's a lot," he says. His thumb presses near my temple, the pressure strangely relaxing.

"Yeah," I breathe out.

"Sleep," he says. "We don't have to take care of anything tonight."

I nod, and Teddy's hand slips away. I open my eyes in time to see him turning off the light, and then it's dark once more. It's not quick, but eventually, I do drift to sleep.

Hopefully, everything will make more sense in the morning.

Nothing makes sense.

I blink my blurry eyes, wondering if, maybe, I'm still dreaming. But the vision before me doesn't clear.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

"Do you, uh…" I swallow down my spit, holding on to the wall for support. "Do you do this often?"

Teddy lifts his head, looking down the length of his body at me. His arms are stretched above him, hands holding loosely to the barbell that's now resting in its cradle at the top of the weight bench. He's wearing gym shorts that are gaping around his substantial thighs, and his furry chest is on full display.

"Yeah," Teddy answers. "I do some reps most mornings. Why?"

I won't survive this.

"No reason," I lie. Can one die via blue balls? "I think I might go for a run."

"Want some company?" he asks, sitting upright.

"You run?" I ask, the surprise of that overriding my current brain melt situation.

He shrugs. "Sometimes."

"Um, okay, sure. Maybe you could show me around the area?"

Teddy gives me a beaming smile that makes me feel like I did something right. "I'd be happy to."

"I'll just go change," I mumble, reversing course for the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, I'm running beside Teddy, regretting every single one of those shots I drank Friday night. This is torture. Absolute torture.

Teddy is wearing a tank top now, but it's drenched in sweat, I can see his nipples, and— "Jesus Christ," I cry, narrowly avoiding the mailbox I almost ran into.

"All right?" Teddy asks, his hand steadying me.

I nod, wheezing out a breath. "I'm not normally this clumsy. Or winded," I assure him.

"We can slow down," he offers.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. Honestly. I just need to focus."

He smiles before looking forward again, and my eyes drop to his ass. Fuuuck.

I nearly clip a tree.

The run is the longest of my life, and when we get back to the apartment, I go straight for the bathroom in the hall as Teddy heads for his en suite. I lock the door, strip out of my clothes, and jump into the shower before the water is even hot. It doesn't matter in the least. My cock is painfully hard despite the brief semi-frigid dunk, and I take it in hand, my heart beating like a drum as I jack myself off furiously. It's over embarrassingly fast, all my pent-up sexual energy from the past couple of days needing an outlet. To be honest, I'm proud of myself for making it this long. My hand slaps the tile wall as I come, and a particular furry-chested man lingers in my mind's eye.

"Fucking hell," I groan, dropping my forehead against my arm. How long have I been living with Teddy? Fifteen hours? "My husband is going to be the death of me."