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“Well? Got it out of your system?” He sounded blasé, and I could already see him in my head in five minutes, lighting himself a joint and sitting at the window overlooking the street, shirtless.
“Eh . . . yes, thank you.”
He dropped a kiss on my exposed shoulder. “Anytime, wifey.”
I gulped at the word. It sounded so agonizingly perfect coming from his mouth, but I knew he’d never mean it.
Do you want him to mean it? You’re polar opposites. You started out hating each other, and that was only a month ago.
But maybe I did want it. Why should it matter that Riggs wasn’t making a load of money? I could be the breadwinner. We could be happy. Too bad he’d never consider it.
“Uh, Poppins?” He snapped his fingers in front of my eyes, and I realized he’d pulled out of me at some point during my brief visit at Fantasyland.
“Yes?” I cleared my throat.
“Why does it smell like your apartment’s on fire?”
I stared at him drowsily before remembering I’d forgotten the iron on my bed while it was still working.
“Oh, shit!” I pushed him off, bolting up to my feet. I forgot my trousers were still on and almost fell onto the bed. A bed that was likely on fire.
Riggs tugged me back, pulling me to safety. He stood up. We both watched my mattress with astonishment.
The iron had burned through my entire blouse’s sleeve. There was a black ashy hole that ate at most of the beautiful shirt. The heat had also passed through the board and created a dark stain on my duvet. Riggs picked up the iron, trekked over to the living room window, and flipped it over to cool down.
“Hope you’re not banking on it working again.”
Riggs grabbed a Sharpie from the pen box on the kitchenette counter, uncapped it with his teeth, and waltzed over to the fridge, narrowing his eyes at the list we’d laminated. He then crossed one item from it.
House Rules
No pets
No hookups
No fraternizing with your spouse
But rulesweremeant to be broken.
Too bad I couldn’t say the same about my heart.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DUFFY
I woke up to the scent of something carby and sinful.
Unbothered by the empty calories I’d consumed the day before in the form of vodka, my mouth began to water. I shifted in my bed. Since my duvet was half-burned from last night’s indiscretion, I’d slept without a blanket. I couldn’t believe I’d nearly burned down my flat to have sex.
Come to think of it, I couldn’t believe I’dhadsex. Enjoyable sex at that.
Last night’s events flooded back into my memory, and with them a mixture of giddy excitement and crushing dread.
I’d shacked it up with my husband. My hotter-than-Hades husband.
After consummating our marriage, we ordered pizza (pizza! On a weekday!), had watermelon margaritas Riggs made with jalapeños (delicious), and went to sleep in our separate beds. Well, in Riggs’s case, the couch. No doubt I could have offered him my bed for the night, but I didn’t want to seem needy.
Plus, I didn’t want him to see that as an invitation to stick his knob in me whenever he fancied. Even if I did want a rerun of last night’sshowing. I felt like my body had been possessed by a woman who was actually capable of having fun.
