The Substitute Husband
I climbed out of the pool, the water dripping off my muscles, and grabbed a towel.
"F*ck, Lander... one more time?" Irish whispered, watching me with eyes full of lingering desire.
I poured myself a drink, the amber liquid burning my throat. "Are you ever satisfied, Irish? We’ve been at this all day."
"I can't help it," she pouted, swimming toward the steps. "Maybe if you made me pregnant, I'd finally be satisfied. Would you marry me then?"
I chuckled, a cold, hollow sound. "I’d take responsibility, sure. But I’m nineteen, Irish. A second-year college student is way too young to be playing house. I have an empire to inherit first, and I’m not tying myself down to anyone."
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