Page 4 of The Husband Game

Too hot, then too cold.

Comfortable, then uncomfortable.

Eventually, he fluttered his eyelids open but slammed them shut immediately because the world was very bright and, clearly, he was not.

Oh God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hangover like this.

He rolled onto his back and groaned at the throbbing in his head.

“Morning, kitten.”

Charlie’s eyes flew wide open this time as he stared at the ceiling, horrified.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

He knew that voice and that damn nickname and no fucking way had he spent the night with Dustin Fowler of all people.

He groaned even louder when he remembered the conversation at the bar last night. Verbally sparring with Dustin. Being turned on by verbally sparring with Dustin.

It got really hazy after that though.

Laughing. More drinks. Dancing. The smell of flowers.

Something sparkly and glittery that he couldn’t stop staring at.

Laughing again in front of a massive fountain of water.

Dustin’s tongue in his mouth.

Hot wet kisses down his spine and Dustin’s cock inside him, making him cry out and clutch at the sheets. Riding Dustin, his gaze hot as he gripped Charlie’s hips …

Despite the desert-dry dustiness of his mouth and queasy feeling in his stomach, Charlie responded to the memories.

He sat up abruptly, his head spinning as the sheets tumbled around his waist. He gathered them close, hiding his erection. “No. Please tell me we didn’t …”

“Oh, we definitely did.” Dustin smirked at him from across the hotel room.

He looked bright-eyed and freshly showered, his dark brown hair nearly black from the water and raked off from his forehead.

Dustin was impeccably dressed in slim-cut trousers and what was clearly a custom-fit button down, with sleeves cuffed in a perfect Italian roll that showed off a gleaming wristwatch.

He was infuriatingly pulled together, sitting with one arm draped along the back of the sofa. Casual. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he hadn’t spent the night getting drunk and wasn’t dying from a hangover the way Charlie was.

Charlie’s stomach rolled and he let out a low, plaintive, “Oh God.”

He clapped a hand to his mouth, then froze at the feel of warm metal against his lower lip.

Slowly, horror spooling in his gut, Charlie held out his left hand, staring down at his ring finger. Two dainty bands circled it, one sporting a ridiculously large diamond. The gem winked in the sunlight that spilled in through the vast windows, throwing dazzling rainbows onto the white sheets.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh, you don’t remember that?”

“Uhh, no,” Charlie rasped. “I definitely don’t.”

“It’s a little hazy for me too. I’ve got a matching one though. Funny, huh?” Dustin held up his hand, waggling his fingers to show off the single wide band he wore.

“Some joke.” Charlie tugged at the rings. They were stuck, his fingers a little swollen from the alcohol and God knows what else he’d consumed last night.

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