Page 44 of My One Week Husband
I laugh. “Then I better feed my naughty wife dinner before I feed her my cock again.”
“That sounds like a perfect evening.”
The only thing that’s not so perfect is when she runs her finger across my hand, across my scar, and I can tell, I can absolutely tell, that soon she’s going to want to know all the things I don’t share.
All the things I keep locked up.
But maybe, for the first time, I want her to know.
Some of them, at least.
18
Scarlett
A message blinks at me in the morning.
I picture it tapping its toe, checking its wristwatch, huffing and puffing, saying, “I’m waiting.”
It can only be Nadia.
With my body deliciously sore, I slide open the message.
* * *
Nadia: Where is my report? I WANT IT NOW!
* * *
I laugh quietly from under the covers, the handsome man I spent the night with sound asleep on his stomach.
In our honeymoon suite.
My life is indeed a theater. And I love playing this part.
I read the next text.
* * *
Nadia: I can only conclude either you endured a horrible injury from the sapphire heels, which you damn well better be wearing, or you suffered a sex injury. Did you break your vagina? Is it in a cast? A sling? A splint? Sidenote: do they make vaginal splints?
* * *
A laugh bursts from me, but I quiet it quickly so I don’t wake my companion. I tap out a reply.
* * *
Scarlett: New market opportunity—vaginal splints for over-sexing. Fortunately, I’m simply in my bed as a result of a condition known as orgasm excessia.
* * *
Nadia: Too many orgasms. I’d like to catch that one. Give me the details now.
* * *
Scarlett: I hardly know where to begin except . . . you were right.
* * *
Nadia: Always a good start to any story. I take it you indulged in the wigs and a little role-play?
* * *
Scarlett: Yes! I had no idea that would unleash everything so quickly. But it did. I swear, as soon as I saw him at the train station, and I was dressed as a redhead in a sassy, bold dress, I felt liberated.
* * *
Nadia: Liberated from your past, you mean?
* * *
Scarlett: Exactly. I felt like a different woman. Like someone who could own all her fantasies. Someone who had a partner who wanted to know them, indulge them. It was never that way with Jonathan. He was never that excited. Anyway, let’s not talk about Jonathan.
* * *
Nadia: Words to live by. Tell me all about Mr. Orgasm Dispenser instead. Is that what you call Daniel now?
* * *
Scarlett: Oh, yes. Of course.
* * *
Nadia: Excellent. I probably won’t use it when I see him, but it’s useful to know his secret identity for party planning and whatnot. So, how does the whole fake name ruse work?
* * *
Scarlett: We pick different names each day. It’s crazy and wonderful. We pretend we’re newlyweds, and it’s like a whole new world.
* * *
Nadia: And that gives you the freedom to explore what you want and what you’ve craved. Right?
* * *
Scarlett: Yes. I’m finally having the sex I want. It’s wild and carnal and frequent. Last night, we fucked twice before bed. I’m in dirty heaven.
* * *
Nadia: So it’s a sex cornucopia? I want to be incredibly jealous, but if anybody deserves that, it’s you.
* * *
Scarlett: I’m devouring all the goodies in the cornucopia, thank you very much. I’m feasting like a glutton. But the thing is, I also feel like when we pretend, I can open up to Daniel in other ways. I actually told him—gasp!—about Jonathan.
* * *
Nadia: Whoa. That’s a huge step. You don’t usually share that with anyone.
* * *
Scarlett: I don’t. But it was easy to tell him—more so than I expected. Maybe because it’s all occurring in this container of make-believe. But it felt so freeing. Like I’d been carrying around this terrible and embarrassing secret and could finally let go of it.
* * *
Nadia: How did he take it? What did he say? I know that’s been a worry of yours—how it would reflect on you.
* * *
Scarlett: Yes, like something was wrong with me, but I’m saying goodbye to those thoughts. And he handled it, I suppose, exactly like I’d hoped he would. Once he knew, he didn’t look at me the way Jonathan would have. He didn’t look at me like a man who wasn’t interested in his wife. He was enraged on my behalf, Nadia. It was sort of arousing and comforting at the same time.
* * *
Three wiggling dots dance on my screen for a while. Her response is short, though, and to the point.
* * *
Nadia: You have feelings for him.
* * *
I close my eyes, wishing she weren’t right.
But when I open my eyes and turn my gaze to the man sharing my bed, his strong shoulders, his sculpted back, his sex-tousled hair, I can’t wish these emotions away.
