Strangers to husbands, p.1
Strangers to Husbands, page 1
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading
About the Author
By Lee Pini
More from Lee Pini
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Copyright
Strangers to Husbands
By Lee Pini
They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but when Lewis wakes up married after a wild, drunken night at his best friend’s bachelorette party, he’s worried he’s affected the rest of his life. Tad might be sweet, drop-dead gorgeous, and so easy to be with, but the obvious solution is a speedy divorce. The fact that they both live in New York City should make the process easy… so why is it taking them so long to sign the papers? Or even take off their rings? And why do they keep ending up in bed?
Tad’s anxiety and fear of coming out to his family has driven guys away before. Can he dare to believe Lewis is different? Lewis, his friends, and his loud, loving Italian family support Tad in a way he’s never experienced, and it’s easy to imagine a lifetime of that unconditional love. But life isn’t a romcom…
Or is it?
To the hopeless romantics.
Chapter One
LEWIS IS drunk off his ass when he decides riding the mechanical bull is an awesome idea. After finding his pockets disappointingly empty of cash, he gets Stacy—also super fucking drunk—to spot him ten bucks.
When he gets back, some guy is handing over a ten to the operator. Lewis leans his elbows on the railing to wait his turn, and the guy looks over and meets his eyes.
Lewis’s stomach swoops, and it’s not just the six shots of tequila he chased the pitcher of beer with. The guy has this beautiful head of auburn hair, curly and thick, gorgeous cheekbones, longish, pointy nose, a sharp chin, and an even sharper smile. He’s T-A-L-L, taller than Lewis, all legs in tight black skinny jeans. Jesus fuck it should be illegal for someone to walk around with a bulge like that.
The guy smiles slowly and says something to the operator, who shrugs and nods. “Wanna join me, cowboy?” Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous drawls to Lewis.
“Um,” Lewis says. The guy unsteadily crosses the crash pad to the bull and puts one foot in the stirrup. Lewis’s eyes go straight to his ass.
Damn. He is tooootally not a one-night stand kind of guy because he believes in LOVE, that’s L-O-V-E Love. Or wait, no? He doesn’t, not anymore. Love is dead! Love is dead, so he should blow this guy in the bathroom.
Hot Mystery Man’s shimmery black tank pulls taut across his chest. Muscles in his forearm pop as he holds the pommel on the bull’s saddle. The divots of his collarbone look like the perfect place for Lewis to put his tongue.
Does he want to join? Um, yeah he wants to join. He wants to join so bad he trips over his feet as he stumbles across the crash pad.
“How’s that going to work, though?” Like he cares about anything except getting closer to this man.
The guy’s gaze travels from Lewis’s head to his feet and back up, lingering at his hips, his chest, his shoulders, and his mouth. Heat floods Lewis. His jeans tighten as his cock stirs.
“You’ll know what to do once we start.” The guy swings into the saddle and pats what little space is left beside him.
Yeah! He will, totally. He will, and—oh shit. Lewis knows he shouldn’t ogle but he gets an eyeful of what’s between the guy’s legs, and. Nnnng. That is. He is. Okay they’re in a western bar so the joke is right there but—
Okay. Fine. Yeah. The guy is well hung. And Lewis’s mouth is literally watering.
If he was sober, he’d wait his turn. But he’s not sober. He is not at allll sober. So he climbs on and finds himself basically in his new friend’s lap, Lewis facing forward and the man facing backward. The heat of his legs pressing into Lewis’s brings the stomach swooping back.
“Shouldn’t we face the same way?” Lewis asks.
Up close, he can see Mystery Man’s blue eyes and a thick scatter of freckles that start on his cheekbones and spill down his neck. How far down do they go?
The guy’s smile gets wicked, and he leans forward. His lips brush Lewis’s ear. And then it’s all hot breath and gravel as the guy says in a low, dirty voice, “I like to look at men when they’re giving me a good, hard ride.”
“Fuck,” Lewis breathes.
The guy draws back, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. And ridiculously drunk.
Lewis puts his hands on the guy’s knees, and at his nod, slides his palms up his thighs to his waist. The man arches into his touch, and his body is warm and firm and Jesus—will Stacy be cool if he bails on the bachelorette party to take this gorgeous man back to his hotel room?
The mechanical bull starts rocking slowly, swinging in a gentle circle, and Lewis absolutely cannot tear his eyes away from the way the man moves. His hips roll, all fluid sex on legs, and one of his arms loops around Lewis’s back as he shifts closer. He slides into Lewis’s lap, and they’re moving against each other, grinding their hips, and Lewis is so hard it hurts.
There’s a rope overhead, and the guy pulls himself up with it. Lewis gets a view of his abs and treasure trail, and he wants to put his mouth there and lick and suck his way down, down, down—
His mouth waters. The guy’s legs hook around his back, and he rubs his hard cock against Lewis’s stomach.
Lewis can’t breathe.
There’s a shrill whistle and a couple catcalls. Without looking, Lewis knows it’s the bachelorette party. A small, slightly more sober part of his mind informs him he’s never going to hear the end of this—he’s basically fornicating on a mechanical bull in the middle of a honky-tonk during his best friend’s bachelorette party.
But as Lewis pushes the guy down to the bull’s neck and ghosts his lips over the man’s jaw with its prickle of stubble, it’s pretty hard to care.
He smells like gin and rose; spice and wood; sweat, and Lewis has never wanted to take someone to bed so bad in his entire life.
The bull slows and stops. Lewis is still on top of the man. Their faces are inches apart. The man’s freckles are like stars. Lewis’s pulse pounds in his fingertips and in his crotch. His skin is on fire.
“Lew!” Stacy yells. “Who’s your friend?”
The guy grins, and where before he was all sultry and sexy, now he looks a little shy, a little giddy, like maybe he can’t believe he just did that. It’s adorable.
Lewis grins back. “I think I should probably ask your name?”
“Tad,” the man says, biting his lip and watching Lewis’s mouth.
Lewis shifts off him as Stacy’s friends keep whooping. “I’m Lewis. And I would really, really love to buy you a drink, Tad.”
“I would really, really love if you bought me a drink,” Tad replies. He slides to the ground and helps Lewis down, and the two of them stumble into each other’s arms, crash pad undulating beneath their feet.
Lewis laughs and leans into him, Tad’s arm goes around his waist, and before Lewis knows it, they’re jammed together at the bar, doing shots. “Aren’t you here with someone?” Lewis asks.
“My brother and his friends.” Tad flaps a hand. “They’re not here. I left them at some casino.”
“You left them to come ride a mechanical bull?”
“I left them because they’re boring.”
“What about me? Am I boring?”
Tad’s hair falls in curly wisps over his forehead. He has the clearest, prettiest blue eyes Lewis has ever seen. “I don’t think you’re boring. You’re like, the least boring person I’ve ever met.”
Leaning into him, Lewis says in his ear, “I don’t think you’re boring, either.” He trails a finger along the line of freckles on Tad’s neck, down to where they disappear under the neckline of his tank. “I like these,” he adds, because it seems really important for Tad to know.
“Really?” Tad sounds awed.
“Mm hm.” Lewis leans in. It’s easy to dip his head to Tad’s neck, because Tad is taller than him. He kisses the spot where the freckles spill onto Tad’s collarbone and disappear under his clothes.
It’s happening, isn’t it? F
Sure, Lewis is drunk right now—really, really drunk—but Tad is definitely a person Lewis falls in love-at-first-sight with.
Tequila seems like it will make him fall even more in love with Tad, so he gets another one of those. And so does Tad, and the night turns to a hazy blur of dancing and singing along to Garth Brooks and Dolly Parton and Carrie Underwood. Tad yells to Stacy at one point, “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift!”
Stacy yells back, “I’m just really happy you’re here, Chad!”
“It’s Tad!”
Slinging an arm around Lewis’s neck, Stacy pulls him in for a sloppy kiss on the cheek and shouts over the music, “Lewis loooooves you, I can tell! Maybe someday you guys will get married! Lewis, I really want us both to be married.”
Goddddd Lewis wants to get married so bad. Ahhhh it would be amazing. Stace is getting married, which he is like, so happy about! They can both be married to the loves of their lives, which Lewis is now like 99 percent sure Tad is. Stacy will marry Alang, and Lewis will marry Tad, and everyone will live happily ever after.
Tad presses into his side. He laughs and nuzzles his face into Lewis’s. “We’ll have a long engagement.”
Which is like the funniest thing Lewis has ever heard, and now he knows he’s in love-at-first-sight with Tad.
They leave the bar, and—stuff happens? Stuff must happen, because Lewis is having a blast, he’s having so much fun; his hand is in Tad’s, he’s kissing Tad, and there’s champagne. It’s the best night Lewis can remember having in forever, even if he already can’t remember most of it.
DESERT SUN on his eyelids wakes Lewis. His mouth is gummy, his stomach is sour, and his eyes are sandy. Something is twisted around his legs. Hotel sheets? Hotel sheets. The air conditioner is blowing on him, which is when Lewis realizes he’s super naked.
He rolls over, groaning—and discovers he’s also super not alone.
But hey, if you’re going to wake up in bed with a man you’ve only known for twelve hours, it might as well be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
The most beautiful man Lewis has ever seen opens his eyes groggily. His hair is in curly snarls on the pillow. A flash of hot memory scorches through Lewis’s body—his fingers twisted in that hair, a warm, wet mouth on his cock.
Mr. Beautiful, He-Of-The-Best-BJ-Lewis-Is-Pretty-Sure-He’s-Ever-Had, stretches, and Lewis’s eyes track down and back up his body. He’s lean and gorgeous, rangy strength, legs for days, very nice cock currently providing a nice display of morning wood. The freckles are all over his body. Lewis vaguely remembers trying to kiss all of them before getting distracted by the aforementioned very nice cock.
Lewis hopes his breath isn’t toxic. “Hey.”
Looking sated and wrecked, Mr. Beautiful says, “Hi.”
What are you supposed to say in the morning to the gorgeous guy you drunkenly hooked up with?
“It’s Tad, right?”
Which isn’t his best effort, but he’s rewarded with a bright, beautiful smile. “Yeah. Lewis?”
Well, Lewis doesn’t remember a whole lot else about last night, but at least they remember each other’s names.
He extends a hand for a handshake. “Lewis Mancini-Sommer.”
Tad’s smile gets a little crooked and a lot mischievous, and Lewis’s heart swoops. “You don’t do this very often, do you, Lewis Mancini-Sommer?”
“Dry hump a stranger on a mechanical bull and then hook up with him? Not really.”
Tad laughs. It’s hoarse, but—it’s such a nice laugh. Sounds out of practice. His hand slides into Lewis’s and they shake, which is when Lewis realizes there’s definitely cum caked in the creases of his palms. Like. Kind of a lot.
“I don’t,” Lewis says. “I mean, obviously not the mechanical bull stuff. But… yeah, the like, drunk hooking up.”
There’s a sad little twist to Tad’s mouth for a second and he pulls the sheet up to his waist. Maybe Lewis is still drunk, but the sight of Tad being unhappy makes him want to fix it. “Hey, um. Is there, like. Anything you want to… do? Like breakfast? Or, I don’t know, coffee?”
Or sex? Because Lewis is leaving Vegas today and obviously never going to see Tad again. So… sex?
Tad’s eyes flick to Lewis’s. “Can we do each other?” He bites his lip. “Sorry! God. I’m actually usually not like this, like, at all. Slutting it up isn’t really my thing. I mean, it’s fine if it is your thing, like, no slut-shaming! I’m just, like, not that way. Usually. I was last night I guess? Sorry, I just—I was here with my brother and his friends, and they make me feel invisible, and—wow, did I really just ask if you want to fuck and talk about my brother in the same breath…?”
That’s a lot of words that Lewis’s brain can’t really process, not after the ones at the very beginning. “I think we should do each other.” He slides a hand over Tad’s stomach and up to his chest. His stomach is just defined enough, but still soft. His pecs, on the other hand, are hard and warm, and Lewis has a faint memory of sucking Tad’s nipples and him really, really liking that.
So he brushes a thumb over one. Tad’s eyes close and he breathes in hard, and Lewis rolls on top of him. Tad grabs his hand and brings it to his mouth, then stops. His eyes widen.
“You’re married?” he demands.
“What?” Lewis laughs. “Um, no.”
Tad jabs a finger at one of Lewis’s. “You’re wearing a wedding ring. Why would you be wearing a wedding ring if you weren’t married?”
“I’m not—” But Lewis’s eyes flick to his own hand, and—
He is. He is wearing a wedding ring. He’s wearing a rose gold band (gay, wow) with a viney, scrolling pattern.
“What the fuck?” Lewis asks, looking at Tad, even though Tad’s made it pretty clear the existence of the wedding ring was unknown to him until this moment.
“I don’t sleep with married men,” Tad says in the same tone you might say I don’t sleep with serial killers.
“I’m not married!” Lewis repeats. Tad rakes a hand through his hair and starts to get out of bed, but Lewis grabs his wrist. “Um, hey, excuse me, Mr. I-Don’t-Sleep-With-Married-Men? What’s that on your hand?”
“What’s what on my—” Tad looks at his left hand. There’s a ring there.
Tad stares. “What the hell?”
“Fuck if I know,” Lewis says. “I don’t know where mine came from, either.”
Their eyes meet. Lewis’s mouth goes dry, and Tad scooches back into bed with him, holding out his hand until it bumps against Lewis’s.
Tad’s is also rose gold, with the same pattern of vines and flowers.
The rings match.
The rings. Fucking. Match.
“Do you remember what we did last night?” Tad asks slowly.
“Well.” Lewis looks at him meaningfully. “I remember doing a lot of things.”
Tad’s face colors. “Before that.”
“Um.” Lewis is saved from answering by his phone buzzing. He dives for it and opens the text from Stacy.
“Oh,” he says. “Fuck.”
I found this in my purse??? Stacy’s text says. Beneath it is a photo of a marriage certificate. Lewis can only see four pertinent words on it: Lewis Mancini-Sommer… and Thaddeus Pierce.
Chapter Two
“SO… IS sex happening, or…?” is what Tad finally says.
Lewis is on his back, hands over his face. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex when we just found out we got married last night.”
“Well,” Tad says. And then, “Okay, I can see where it might feel a bit inappropriate.”
“A bit?”
“In my defense, I like sex.”
“That’s not a defense, that’s the human condition!”
“And I really liked sex with you,” Tad adds.
That shuts Lewis up. He pushes himself upright. Tad looks embarrassed. “I don’t do this very often, either,” Tad says.
“Marry strangers?” Lewis asks, but his heart is slowing down and his lungs are filling easier. This isn’t insurmountable. Divorce is a thing. And this is Vegas—it’s probably just as easy to get divorced as it is to get married, right?
