“Dude, dribble the fucking ball,” Declan yells at me.

“I’m trying.”

Truth is, I’m fucking nervous. Every Sunday night we meet at the gym for a little one-on-one basketball workout session. It’s been three hours since I’ve been home from Vegas. Three hours of weirdness.

Chelsea and I haven’t talked much about our time in Vegas. But, something keeps nagging at the corners of my mind.

Declan slams the ball at my chest. I fucked his sister. And after that, we both got trashed.

Like, can't remember shit trashed.

I aim, take the shot, and miss by about a mile.

“What is wrong with you?” Declan says.

“Just tired, I guess.”

He grabs the ball. “How was Vegas? How’d the shoot go?”

Do I tell him I modeled with his sister?

“It was fine.” I shake it off. This funk, this whatever.

“That’s cool. What’s up with you?” he asks as he steals the ball from my fingers.

“Got a lot on my mind.”

He sinks a shot and turns to face me as the ball bounces away. “You usually say that when you’re upset over a girl.”

I jog after the ball. “Ah, you know me so well, huh?”

“Better than you know yourself, Jo.”

“So, who is she?” he asks, and I freeze.

I try to dribble the ball, but it slips from my fingers. “Uh, no one.”

“Do I know her?”

“No,” I say, quickly.

His eyebrow raises as he studies me. “Must be pretty bad if you aren’t talking about it.”

“It isn’t that.” I tell him about the shoot. How the male model didn’t show and I had to fill in. I tell him the whole story of Vegas, leaving out everything after the shoot.

“So, what’s the problem then? Wait, you don't have a thing for Chelsea, do you?” he asks.

“What? No,” I scoff.

“Ok, good. I nearly had a heart attack.” He wipes the sweat from his brow, and we continue playing. He spanks my ass in hoops.

As he’s leaving, he looks over his shoulder, saying, “I play a mean game of b-ball, if I do say so myself. I do, I do.” He kind of hums the last two words.

And I fucking stop. Dead in my tracks.

I do.

It all comes rushing back.

The memories I was too drunk to remember.

A wedding chapel.

The song.

Chelsea and I giggling down the aisle.

The kiss that sealed the deal.

* * *

I’m fucking married. America’s favorite playboy has gone and gotten himself hitched. Ok, I know I’m not America’s anything, but let me freak out in peace.

This is big. No, this is gigantic. I don’t want to be married. Does Chelsea remember?

It was a mistake to get married. No big deal. Right? Right? It’s no big deal? Ok, it’s a huge fucking deal.

I can’t breathe.

When I enter my house, Chelsea stands in the living room, paper in her hand, shouting to no one.

She stomps over the hardwood, tears streaming down her face.

Oh shit. Maybe she does remember. Maybe her freak out is a little bit more than mine.

“How could you?” she yells at me. “You changed all your passwords.”

Passwords?

“What are you talking about?” I ask, tossing my gym bag down by the door.

“I’m in character. I’m a psychopath.” She hits me with a stare I’ve never seen before.

Yeah, no way am I fucking telling her now. No thanks. Married or not, crazy psycho is not on the menu tonight.

“Oh, how’s it going?” I ask, kind of afraid for my life at this point. Chelsea’s a great actress.

“Not good. I’m trying to work on this scene for an audition I have tomorrow.” She wipes her eyes and plops on the couch.

“Need some help?”

Her eyes twinkle. “Really? You’ll help me?”

“What’s the role?” I ask.

“This role is huge. It’s a thriller. A girl hates her life and becomes obsessed with an online celebrity. She stalks him through social media, even friending his family members to get closer to him.”

“I’d probably go see this one,” I offer.

“Oh, but wait, she eventually turns his family against him through all of her lies. After she drugs him and they kiss, she goes on a rampage killing everyone.”

“Sounds fun.”

“But, it’s more than fun. This would be the best kind of challenge for me. And I really want to push myself with it,” she says with a gleam in her eye.

“Let’s do it. Just imagine I’m Marlon Brando.”

“You’re a much better version of Marlon.” She laughs.

“I’ll make you an offer you can't refuse,” I say, running the back of my hand over my jaw in my best Godfather imitation.

“Thank you. This is really important to me.”

“How hard can it be?” No pun intended. I can’t even fucking think straight. I’m about to read lines when I should be telling her. Does she even remember?

Ok, new plan. Read the lines, get this over with, then tell her, so we can get this thing annulled.

“Ok, so the scene is right before she goes crazy. She tries to convince him that he loves her.”

“Sounds easy enough.” She hands me the script, and I flip through the pages. My eyes zero in on the ending, and there’s a kiss.

“Obviously, we don’t have to do that part,” she whispers when she sees what part I’m reading.

“Do you have to kiss another guy?” I hate the fact of her becoming an actress all of a sudden.

“I guess. I’m not really sure.”

I try to shake off the sinking feeling of her with another guy. Damn, my mind is a train wreck right now. “Alright, let’s start.”

“Daniel, how could you?” she yells, starting the first line.

“No, you lied to me,” I say, obviously without an acting bone in my body.

“I didn’t. I tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t find the words,” she says, and she’s not bad.

“Well, you should have told me. You turned all my friends against me.” I laugh a little.

Her eyes bore into mine. “I love you,” she whispers, and the words sound good in my ears.

My chest does that little warming thing again, and I try to pay attention to the script in my hand. But, then another thought hits me...she’s my wife.

And now she’s ten times sexier to me.

She’s mine. We’re married.

“I don’t know if I can trust you ever again,” I say, glancing back at her after reading the line.

Tears fill her eyes and wow, she’s a great actress. “Please tell me how I can make this better. What can I do?”

I want to toss this paper aside and grab her. “Gretchen, there’s nothing you can do.”

Her fingers slide down my cheek. “I’ll do anything.”

Fuck, I wish this were real. My body screams at me to take her. I try to focus on the words written in the script, but I can’t. I’m a goner.

My heart pounds. “No.”

She moves closer. “Please kiss me. You’ll fall in love if you kiss me.”

The air sizzles between us. “Hell no, you’re delusional.” But, I want to say ‘hell yes’ more than anything.

This is where the scene ends, but neither of us move. In a flash Chelsea returns to the girl I know. The crazy eyes have completely vanished.

I want to kiss her.

Fuck this. I move in, claiming her lips. She lets out a moan as I grab her by the waist and pull her closer.

“Jonah,” she whispers.

I suck along her neck, moving down to the ridge of her collarbone.

The next thing I know, I’m hoisting her into my arms and carrying her off to my bedroom. I kick the door open, and set her on my bed.

I stand back, gazing at her on my bed. It’s as if she belongs there. I grab at the back of my shirt, taking it off in one quick movement.

She sucks in a breath.

“I’m going to do what I wanted to do with you in Vegas.” I move closer.

“What’s that?” she asks, biting her lower lip.

“Watch you.”

She tilts her head, her big eyes watching me unfasten my jeans. “How?” she whispers.

“Remove your shirt.”

She obeys, and her tits are hidden behind the pink bra she has on.

I lean against the post of the bed as she runs her fingers over the lacy material. “Do you like what you see?”

I nod. “Take off your pants.”

She has on these sexy yoga pants that show off her perfect curves. In Vegas, I wasn’t able to appreciate all her assets and perks.

But, tonight, oh, tonight, she’ll be fully enjoyed.

“Take your bra off. Play with your tits,” I tell her.

She moves so slow. It’s the worst form of torture. My cock is at attention, hard and ready to go.

I remove my jeans and boxers.

She sucks in another breath as her eyes fixate on my thickness. This is the first time she’s seeing it.

Sure, she’d felt it in Vegas, but tonight is the first time we’re actually seeing each other. I pump my cock in my hand. “You like what you see?”

“Yes.” She squeezes a nipple, and I groan.

“Baby, fuck. Spread your legs.”

She arches her back before spreading her legs for me. It’s fucking sexy. With her hands still on her tits, I beg her to move them to her panty-covered pussy.

She touches herself, and all thoughts are directed to my dick who is now in control.

I can’t think straight.

I watch. And watch.

Her moaning on my bed. Her squeezing her tits. Her hand running up and down over her pussy.

God, she’s everything I want.

“Take your panties off,” I demand.

She slides them ever so slowly down her long legs. It drives me crazy how slow she’s going. It’s as if she wants to drive me insane.

She smiles, seductively. “You want me to keep playing with myself?”

“Fuck, yeah,” I answer, pumping my cock.

“But I want to play with you.”

“Oh, you will.”

It’s painful trying to go at this pace. But, I want to enjoy her. In Vegas it was rushed, and lust-driven.

Now, I have a chance to actually watch, see, and explore her.

I want her to see stars. I want to make her explode with passion. There’s so many things I want right now, but the thing I want most, is for her to love every fucking minute of it.

The bed dips as I get on, crawling over her body, kissing my way up.

“Keep touching yourself,” I whisper against her clit.

I lick at her wet skin, sucking her finger into my mouth as well, and then I take over eating her pussy. Her nails dig into the top of my shoulders.

I keep licking.

Keep sucking.

My whole body comes alive. Every joint and muscle aches with the need to touch her.

She’s so wet for me. Soaked.

I can definitely make her come a few times tonight. And I can’t wait.

She bucks her hips, arching her back. “Jonah.”

My name on her lips is music I want to play on repeat all night. Her pussy rubs against my face, her clit running along the bridge of my nose. She’s close, and her moans and whimpers increase.

She comes all over me, and it’s fucking great.

I can’t get enough. This girl. Ahh.

I gaze at her after her body has calmed. “That was amazing.”

“It was more amazing for me,” she says with a soft glow in her cheeks.

I crawl up her body, kissing her lush lips. “Chelsea, I don’t think what happens in Vegas should stay there. I want to be with you.”

She smiles wide. “I want that too.”

My cock grows larger than it already is, and I grab a condom from my drawer.