Page 22 of Nothing Left to Lose

Or he’d wake up and freak out.

More than likely.

So I made a beeline for the bathroom and the shower had barely enough time to heat up before I was jerking off. I had to get rid of my boner before I wore a pair of tiny Speedos... before we pretended to be newlywed husbands who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

I got dressed and made coffee all while deliberately not looking at the sleeping Brody still in the bed.

Jesus Christ.

Enjoy it while it lasts, Miller. Because it all ends tomorrow when you fly back home to reality.

I heard the bathroom door close, and while he tookforeverin there, I decided tidying the suite a little was a good idea. And making him coffee and pretending everything was fantastically fine was too.

And apparently him not saying much at all was part of his plan.

Breakfast wasn’t too awkward; we didn’t need to pretend to be anything but two people eating breakfast together.

A few people smiled at us and said a cheery good morning to us, which was odd. Maybe they’d seen the promo stuff. Or maybe it was just a Vegas thing. The folks who were still drunk and hadn’t slept yet were definitely a Vegas thing.

“Let’s hit the strip,” I suggested when we were done. “We have a few hours to kill.”

Brody nodded. “Good idea.”

So we wandered outside, into the disgusting heat and crowds. We avoided the hawkers and folks trying to shove flyers in our hands and made our way into Caesar’s Palace where the AC was welcome. Then The Venetian, and fake Venice was kinda awesome. Then we visited the fountain, the Eiffel Tower, and Freemont. We laughed and took photos, took selfies, and it was habit to slip my arm into his as we walked back to our hotel.

We’d walked together like this, holding hands or arms linked, a thousand times over the years. But there was an uneasy feeling about it now.

It didn’t feel like it used to.

I tried to pull my arm free, but he grabbed my hand instead. He looked away but his grip tightened, and I saw his throat as he swallowed. “I feel like tacos,” he said.

Okay then.

So we had tacos.

It was after two by the time we made it back to the suite. “What time does this pool party start?”

“Three.”

He groaned as he fell back onto the freshly made bed.

“I’d like to remind you that this whole weekend was your idea,” I said, rifling through my suitcase for my pool party outfit. “So anything you are subject to doing against your will is completely your fault.”

He whined. “I need sympathy, Mills.”

When I looked over, he was in the fetal position. Dear god. I grabbed his ankle and dragged him to the end of the bed.

“Hey!” he said. “What the?—”

“Get in here with me,” I said, walking into the bathroom.

“What for?”

“Brody, I swear to god.”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled, walking in.

I was standing in front of the mirror with my arm out. “Come here. We need to get our game faces on. We will be surrounded by gay men. Believe me, if there’s one sniff of doubt about us being married, they will know.”

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