Happily Ever After? Ask Again Later.
Ryan's lips claiming hers with a hunger that sent sparks skittering down her spine, making her toes curl and her heart hammer like it was trying to escape. But then, panic flickered through the haze of desire, a wild, breathless reminder that this was them, tumbling headfirst into forever on their wedding night.
With a surge of sheer, stubborn will, she planted her feet square against his ribs and shoved, hard. He toppled sideways onto the mattress, letting out a groan that was equal parts pain and pure theater, clutching his side like she'd mortally wounded him.
"You had to ruin the moment, you naughty little temptress, didn't you?" Ryan accused, his voice a husky rumble laced with mock betrayal, those beautiful eyes dancing with mischief even as he winced. God, the man could make agony look sexy.
Lila buried the flush creeping up her neck, hot and traitorous, threatening to paint her cheeks a guilty scarlet. Breaking that kiss? It had taken every ounce of her fraying sanity, like ripping herself away from a flame she craved but knew might burn her alive. Her pulse still thrummed with the echo of it, that dizzying pull that whispered more, more, more. But she wasn't about to let him see how rattled she was. Not yet.
"Who're you calling little?" she huffed, puffing out her cheeks in a glare that wobbled somewhere between fierce and flustered. "Newsflash, mister: I'll be twenty-three this year. Practically ancient."
Ryan's smirk bloomed slow and sinful, like he knew exactly how to unravel her. He propped himself up on one elbow, leaning in until his breath ghosted her skin, all warmth and wicked intent.
"And I'll be twenty-seven in, what, a heartbeat? Still makes you my little sis, doesn't it?"
Her gasp exploded like fireworkspure, indignant outrage that had her eyes widening to saucers. "Don't. You. Dare."
That did it. The dam broke, and chaos erupted in a whirlwind of tangled limbs and breathless giggles. Pillows sailed through the air like misguided missiles, blankets twisted into battle flags around their thrashing forms, and there they were, two overgrown kids play-fighting on a bed that was supposed to be their sacred honeymoon haven.
Ryan's laughter boomed deep and joyful, vibrating through her as he lunged, but Lila twisted like a cat, dodging and countering with slaps and shoves that dissolved into helpless snorts of laughter. Her sides ached from it, the kind of joy that bubbled up from somewhere raw and real, chasing away the nerves gnawing at her edges.
Finally, with a triumphant growl, Ryan snagged her wrists, pinning them gently but firmly above her head. He loomed over her, chest heaving, that victorious grin splitting his face, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes, making him look every bit the rogue who'd stolen her heart all over again. Lila's breath caught, her body humming under his weight, a delicious mix of surrender and spark.
She flashed him a devilish grin, then, without missing a beat, sank her teeth into the soft flesh of his forearm, a playful nip that was more tease than bite.
"Ow! Are you a dog?" he yelped, though the groan melted into a chuckle, his body shaking with it. "Same damn trick every time, huh? You're predictable, wifey."
"And it always works," she shot back, smug as sin, wriggling just enough to feel the heat flare between them again. Victory tasted sweet, especially when it came wrapped in his reluctant surrender.
Ryan shook his head, that grin softening into something warmer, deeper, affection shining through the tease like sunlight on water. But he couldn't resist one last jab. "Fine, you win this round. I was all set to dive into my husbandly duties, make this night one for the fairy tales... but you torpedoed it. Don't come crying to me when your wedding night ends up as bland as yesterday's toast, no fireworks, no poetry, just us and a whole lot of awkward staring at the ceiling."
""Wait_! don't tell me you're actually buying into this whole 'wedding bells and forever' schtick? Because if you are, we're gonna have words, mister. Now that I'm saying it out loud, do we really have to hand our parents a victory lap? Where's our vote in this circus? They can't just drop the 'you're hitched' bomb and poof, expect us to play house like it's no big deal. Just like that, we're supposed to swallow the marriage pill? Just like that, we're actually married? Ryan, come on, let's hit the eject button. Keep it simple, keep it us: old pals, ride-or-die forever. No complications, no weird vibes messing with our bulletproof friendship. What do you say? Back me up here."
Ryan grinned like she'd just read his diary. "How did you peek into my brain? Are you some kind of sorceress or a discount fortune-teller? Or just that freaky best-friend telepathy we've got going? I was this close to staging a full-on rebellion myself. Screw the 'perfect couple' charade, it's so last decade, all stiff suits and forced smiles. We skip the script, keep the chaos. Boom, problem solved."
If only she could see the riot in his chest, the way his pulse revved at the thought of her finally catching on, that this "pals" act was his flimsy shield for the truth screaming to burst free. But for now? He'd grin through the ache, because in rom-com land, the best twists started with a wink and a lie that felt half-true.
"Genius plan, babe," he added, all breezy cheer, like he'd just aced a job interview. "I mean, I was already mourning the death of my wild nights, clubbing till dawn, charming every mystery brunette in a five-mile radius. But hey, if we can rock this 'married but chill' vibe? Sign me up. Total game-changer. We'll be legends: hitched on paper, heart-free in the wild." His eyes twinkled with that devil-may-care spark.
If only Lila knew, Ryan did want to pull it off. In fact, he'd been looking forward to their first night together as husband and wife with an enthusiasm that would put a teenager to shame. And now here she was, talking about 'just like that, blablabla' Just pals? Really? Ryan screamed in his mind. But on the outside, he wore the grin of a man who looked like he'd just won the lottery. Come on, Lila. Read between the lines.
""Yeah, whatever," Lila scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't stick that way, her voice dripping with that signature sarcasm she wielded like a shield, and a sword. "Your 'beauties,' huh? Oh, please. You'll be pining for them like a lost puppy by week's end."
Ryan's laugh rumbled low, all velvet thunder, as he flopped back against the pillows, one arm slung dramatically over his forehead like a heartbroken leading man. "Nah, babe, they'll be the ones drafting the weepy fan letters. 'Dear Ryan, our nights will never be the same without your killer dance moves and that smile that could launch a thousand bad decisions.' And mosy importantly, they'll be missing my, you know.." he winked wickedly and Lila rolled her eyes.
"Right, because it's totally the moves they're chasing, not the black AmEx burning a hole in your pocket," she fired back, propping herself up on one hand, her free fingers jabbing the air for emphasis. The words came out breezy, but damn if there wasn't a tiny barb of something sharper underneath, jealousy?Curiosity? She shoved it down, quick as a heartbeat. "Whatever. Not my three-ring circus, not my escaped monkeys. Go wild, live your best life. Hell, I'll even spot you cab fare to the club. I'm not gonna be the ball-and-chain buzzkill clipping your wings."
He dropped the pose in a flash, twisting toward her with that trademark grin, eyes narrowing in playful accusation. "You? Clip my wings? Come on, Lila, you're not built for that. I'd run circles around any attempt. For Pete's sake, am a free bird."
"There he goes again. "Asshole alert, code red. Who needs drama when your best friend's got a PhD in pushing buttons?"
Ryan's grumble was pure theater, laced with that self-deprecating charm that always softened her edges. He raked a hand through his tousled hair, glancing skyward like he was appealing to the universe itself. "Of course we're picking fights on our wedding night. Because what says 'I do' like a good old-fashioned roast? I swear, our parents must've been three sheets to the wind when they dreamed this up, 'Yeah, let's mash these two hotheads together and call it love.' Solid strategy."
""Yeah, they had to be really nut. Totally off their rockers. Handing me the short end of the stick with Casanova 2.0? It's like they forgot I bite back." She paused, tilting her head, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. "Or maybe they knew exactly what they were doing, setting us up for the messiest, most entertaining trainwreck ever."
But Ryan's smirk eased into something quieter, deeper, his gaze holding hers with that steady pull that made the room feel smaller, cozier. "Keep it up, smartass. One of these days, when you finally get what these women are actually chasing in me..." He trailed off, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, thumb brushing her wrist in a touch that lingered just a beat too long. "You'll be right there with 'em. Hooked, heart-first, no take-backs." And damn if her pulse didn't skip, the banter hanging electric in the air, like the best kind of foreplay, the kind that whispered maybe without saying it out loud.
"You wish," she shot back, lips twitching.
Eventually, when they got back into bed, Lila turned her back to him, her brows knitted in a faint frown. Deep down, she had half-hoped he would laugh off their little pact and say something cheesy like, "Nonsense, Lila. We're married now, let's stay married for real, okay?" But instead, Ryan seemed way too pleased with their "friends forever" arrangement.
He stretched out beside her, folding his arms behind his head, a smug grin tugging at his lips. "Ahh, no pressure, no responsibilities, just the perfect marriage," he muttered, as if the universe had finally granted him his favorite wish.
Lila snorted. "Perfect marriage, my foot."
"Oh come on, Lil', "
"I said don't call me that!" she snapped, throwing a pillow at his face.
Ryan caught it effortlessly, chuckling. "What? You'd rather I call you Mrs. Casanova?"
She groaned. "That's worse!"
Ryan's grin lingered, but inside, his thoughts were far from casual. If only you knew, Lila, if only you knew how much I wanted that first night to actually mean something.And you, He bit back a sigh, stealing a glance at her as she stubbornly faced away. You just had to ruin it with that "friends forever" speech.
"Goodnight, Ryan," she said flatly, pulling the blanket over her shoulder.
He turned on his side, close enough to catch a faint whiff of her perfume. "Goodnight, Little Sis," he whispered teasingly, knowing it would rile her up.
Sure enough, she spun around and smacked him on the chest. "Ryan!"
He laughed, deep, warm, and infuriating. "What? It's our wedding night. I've gotta make memories."
Lila glared at him, but her lips twitched as if she was fighting a smile. "You're impossible."
"And you're stuck with me," he replied, settling in.
For a moment, the room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Then, just as sleep was starting to claim her, Lila felt the warmth of his arm drape lightly over her waist. It was casual enough to pass for friendly, but the way his thumb traced the edge of her hip told a very different story.
The morning sun slipped through the half-drawn curtains, splashing a golden glow across the bed. Lila stirred first, squinting against the light, only to realize she was tangled up in Ryan's arms like he'd wrapped her up during the night and never let go. His face was buried in her hair, his breath warm against her neck.
She froze. Great, now I'm basically his human pillow.
Slowly, she tried to wriggle free without waking him, but his grip tightened like a vice.
"Where do you think you're going, little wife?" Ryan's sleepy, husky voice rumbled against her ear.
"Ugh, stop calling me that. And I was going to, uh, get water."
"Liar. You were trying to escape." He cracked one eye open, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "Admit it, you enjoyed sleeping in my arms."
Lila scoffed. "Enjoyed? I barely survived. You hogged the blanket, kicked me twice, and I think my ribs are bruised."
"That's love, baby," Ryan said, stretching with the self-satisfaction of a cat.
"Love? That was a near-death experience." She pushed at his chest. "Move, you heavy log."
"You weren't complaining last night when you curled into me like a koala."
"I was cold!"
"Mm-hmm, cold and in love," he teased, leaning closer.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Casanova. I'd rather cuddle a cactus."
"Hey, I'm much warmer and way better looking than a cactus," Ryan protested, feigning offense.
"Debatable."
He gasped dramatically. "You wound me, Lila. On our first morning as a married couple, too!"
"You're still alive, aren't you?"
"Barely. But don't worry, I'll recover, if you make me breakfast."
She gave him a wicked grin. "Sure. I'll make your favorite, burnt toast with a side of regret."
Ryan chuckled, pulling her back down onto the bed before she could get up. "Nope. Not letting you escape. This moment is officially classified as 'husband duty, part two.'"
"Ryan!" she squealed, laughing as he tried to tickle her.
"Shh," he said, pressing a finger to her lips. "We have neighbors. Don't want them thinking the newlyweds are too happy."
"Oh, trust me," Lila said, smirking, "one look at you and they'll know I'm suffering."
"You love me," he said with full confidence.
"In your dreams."
"Exactly," he grinned. "And guess what? You were in them all night." He said playfully, except, he wasn't lying.
Ryan finally let her escape after what felt like a wrestling match in the sheets. Lila marched off toward the kitchen in mock annoyance, muttering under her breath about immature husbands while Ryan followed like a shadow, grinning like a schoolboy who'd just gotten away with mischief.
"Don't follow me," she warned without turning around.
"I'm not following. I'm supervising. Big difference."
"Supervise your own toast then." She grabbed bread, a frying pan, and eggs with the efficiency of someone who knew the kitchen better than she knew her own husband.
Ryan leaned on the counter, watching her with lazy amusement. "You know, watching you cook is strangely… attractive."
Lila shot him a look. "Careful. If you keep talking like that, I might 'accidentally' drop your breakfast on the floor."
"That's cruel. And here I am, a poor, hungry man, depending on his wife for survival."
"Oh, please. You're the kind of man who'd charm the neighbor into giving him a five-course meal if I ever refused."
He grinned. "Guilty."
The smell of frying eggs filled the air. Lila plated the food with a little more force than necessary, sliding his portion across the table. "There. Eat. And no complaining."
Ryan took a dramatic bite and sighed like he'd just tasted heaven. "Wow, my wife cooks and looks gorgeous in the morning. I hit the jackpot."
"You mean, you hit your head."
"I mean," he said, leaning across the table with a mischievous glint, "you should kiss me before the eggs get cold."
She raised a brow. "Kiss you? In your dreams."
"Guess I'll just have to keep dreaming then," he said with a wink, shoving another forkful in his mouth.
By the time they finished breakfast, the kitchen was a mess, Ryan had stolen two bites from her plate, and Lila realized, without meaning to, that she was smiling more than she had in weeks.