Page 122 of Making the Save

“We were both right,” she agreed. “At the cabin it was simple. But here in the real world it’s complicated.”

“Do you want this marriage to end?”

“It’s not a choice. It has to end. We were drunk and stupid and we got carried away. I don’t think any marriage should start like that. Do you?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t. I brought the papers with me to New York. I’ll sign them and send them back to your lawyers.”

She nodded and swallowed. “So that’s it, I guess. We’re officially done now.”

“Yeah,” I said. My father, before he left my cabin, reminded me that I wasn’t just good at hockey and getting shit done. He reminded me that I was tricky. Conniving. I was good at getting what I wanted. So I decided to push my luck. “Want to have breakup sex?”

Her expression picked up. “Is that a thing we can do?”

“It’s almost a requirement,” I said with a shrug. “It’s how you get closure on an actual relationship.”

She nodded. “Hookay. Do we do that now?”

“No, first we finish walking your dog,” I said. I took the leash from her hand. “Come on, Predator. You’ve got to take a shit before we can go back.”

“I call him Torry, for short,” she said, and came up next to me. I reached for her hand, and she didn’t hesitate. Our fingers interlocked and I turned my head so she wouldn’t see me smile.

She was right.

A marriage. A real marriage, shouldn’t begin with a drunken mistake.

25

Sydney

Breakup sex was a bad idea. Like, top three worst ideas I’d ever had, and I’d once cut my own bangs. But I was going into it with my eyes wide open. I knew this was good-bye. I knew it was going to hurt my heart.

But first, it was going to feel amazing.

We stepped through the door of my loft, and I put Torry back in his crate for a nap.

As soon as the blanket was draped over his cage, we immediately started ripping each other’s clothes off.

He pulled the hat off my head. “You stole this from the cabin, didn’t you?”

“You have a million of them.”

I kicked off my shoes, shimmied out of the tennis skirt I was wearing, along with my underwear, and kicked out of both. I reached for the button on his khaki shorts, as he was pushing his hands up the back of my polo shirt to get to my bra.

“Front clasp,” I gasped, as his fingers deftly changed course and undid the fastening, releasing my aching breasts into his hands. It felt so incredibly good to have him touching me again. Playing with my nipples. Teasing them between his fingers. I closed my eyes and thought how I needed to memorize all of this. Every second of breakup sex.

I managed to get the button undone on his shorts and thrust my hand inside, like his dick was a prize I’d won. I fell to my knees and took him into my mouth like I couldn’t wait another second.

Because I couldn’t.

The heat of him, the taste of him, the feel of him pushing deep into my mouth was all I wanted. He was gloriously naked in my apartment, completely under my control, as I worshiped his cock. Licking around the head, carefully rolling his balls in one hand, while the other pumped the base.

I wanted to give him all of it. Everything he’d taught me about what he liked, what I liked. I wanted to tease the cum out of him. Let his orgasm surprise him. So that it was out of his control. Into mine.

“Syd, enough.”

It was never going to be enough.

We could break up. He could sign the papers. But it wouldn’t be enough. This one last time, I had to give it everything I could.