She wiped her mouth on a towel and stood there, eyes closed as she took a deep breath. “Okay. We aren’t doing this right now. My brain is all blah blah drunk.”

With a decisive nod, she looked back at me. “Putting this aside.”

I took a step closer, bending to kiss her. “Putting this aside.”

When my tongue touched hers, she pulled back, laughing. “Oh my God, I just remembered I made you kiss George.”

“You did.”

“He liked it.”

This made me laugh. “You think so?”

“Did you?”

“I mean, it wasn’t terrible. But it also wasn’t you.”

I followed her into the bedroom and between the covers. “Do you think he’s in love with you?”

I shook my head. “No. I think maybe he just really wants me to fuck him?”

Hanna laughed and climbed over me, kissing my bare chest. “I bet he’d love to do this.” She moved lower, pulling my boxers down and off, tossing them onto the floor of our bedroom. Her mouth came up against the head of my cock, tongue teasing. “I love the way you feel on my tongue.” She sucked me, drunk and bold. “How wet you get, like your body is begging to come.”

I felt my heart take off in a thunder, growling, “Hanna.”

“God, Will. You get so hard.” She jerked me, tapping me against her tongue. “You’re so perfectly straight and smooth. George would lose his mind.”

“I only want your mouth.”

She looked up at me through sweetly devious eyes. “But I like having you when other people want you. It makes me feel powerful.”

“And that’s how I know you’re secure in my love. You wouldn’t have said that a year and a half ago.”

She laughed against me, a warm puff of air. “You’re wearing my ring. You’re tattooed with my name. You get hit on all the time and turn into an awkward mess. I’ve poisoned you for other women.”

My hips pushed off the bed, needy. “Don’t talk to me about other people right now. I like this wild thing playing with me. I want a dirty little plum sucking my cock.”

She dragged her teeth down my shaft. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You like when I talk about how much I love to lick you here? All hard and soft at the same time.” She pulled me deep, popping off to tell me, “I want to suck you dry.”

“Fuck.” Drunk Hanna had a filthy mouth.

“And down here?” She licked down to my balls. “You love to be touched here. I think you’re pretty bad, William. I think you like the idea of my tongue all over you here not just because it feels nice but because it looks so naughty.”

When I groaned in response, she closed her eyes, moving back to take me in her mouth again, deep and up and down, working her lips over me. She’d learned, knew my body so well it was like breathing, being with her like this.

The conversation we needed to have was in the background, waiting.

But it was easy enough to push that worry aside when she was there, warm and wet sliding over me, little growls vibrating down my cock. I told her what I would do to her when she was done there, how I would wreck her with my mouth and teeth, how I would take her tonight and leave her boneless with pleasure.

Desperation clawed like a beast beneath my skin.

It scared me, a little, to not feel like I was getting used to this, to instead feel like I was growing more desperate for her every day. I had her. I lived with her. I married her. But my feelings for Hanna were foreign to me in their intensity, and the sheer unknown of our future left me feeling unsteady.

Closing my eyes, I gripped her hair, feeling the solid presence of her over me, needing something deeper and larger than anything she could give me tonight.

Four

Hanna

Still half asleep, I winced against the light. It was morning—barely—late enough for a hint of brightening sky to start seeping along the edge of the shades, but way, way too early to get up.

I threw the blanket over my head, buried my face in the pillow, and squeezed my eyes tight. The streets outside were relatively quiet and Will slept silently beside me, but I could practically hear my headache.

Giving up, I rolled over, fingers searching along the sheets for Will and warm skin and—

Oof. That might have been a mistake. I counted to ten, breathing in through my nose while I waited for the room to stop spinning. My stomach was definitely not on board with the change in position.

I groaned, squeezing my eyes closed as I managed to sit up. My mouth felt like cotton and I was probably two seconds from losing everything I drank last night, but this . . . okay . . . vertical was definitely the better choice.

Will mumbled something and rolled onto his side, and I looked back at him over my shoulder. He was breathing softly, pillow clutched in his arms, sleeping quietly again. His wedding band glinted against the tan of his skin and I reached out, brushing a finger across the cool metal. A week—he’d been wearing that ring for a week, and I was pretty sure I could handle a million more just like this one.

Pushing off the bed, I shuffled to the bathroom.

I used the toilet and washed my hands, brushed my teeth—thank God—and drank at least a gallon of water straight from the tap. I never wanted to see tequila again.

Feeling marginally better, I walked back into the room and looked around, my eyes following the trail of discarded clothing that led from the doorway to the bed. Last night had been crazy . . . I thought. I remembered alcohol—lots of alcohol—our friends, some vague recollection of Will kissing George and my being totally turned on by it?—I would definitely need to get the scoop on that from sober Sara—and Will’s suggestion that I take a teaching job.

And like that, my head cleared. I felt my skin start to prickle as I remembered his comments about me living my life in the lab, as if he was so sure that’s what would happen. Why was it okay for him to work long hours? To give his career everything he could? Will had always been supportive and proud of all that I’d accomplished . . . Where had this complaint come from? We got married, yes, but I never signed on to be Susie Homemaker or change who I was. I’d sacrificed my entire life for my career, and I was damn proud of the balance I’d managed to find since meeting and falling in love with and marrying him. Did he have so little faith in my ability to handle both?