The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63 The Morning After

“Mia’s POV:

+25 BONUS

Gasoline’s claws scraped against wood, the desperate scratching piercing through my hangover clouded consciousness. My head throbbed as awareness crept in silk sheets that weren’t mine, a familiar cologne lingering in the air. Kyle’s room. Kyle’s

bed.

Gas whined, his nails clicking more insistently against the door. The sound made my temples pulse.

I heard the soft creak of the door opening. Gas bounded in immediately, his paws thundering across the hardwood before he launched himself onto the bed.

“Gas, careful!” I managed, but he was already plastering my face with enthusiastic kisses, his tail thumping against the mattress. His familiar weight and warmth grounded me.

Oh god, what had I done?

Flashes of last night played like a scandalous movie in my head: throwing back tequila shots with Connor and Daniel, their muscled bodies moving to the music, then Kyle appearing like an avenging angel in Paradise. After that… the memories turned hot and wild.

My hands had been everywhere- raking down Kyle’s perfect chest, my mouth leaving desperate kisses along his neck. I remembered begging, actually begging him to touch me, to take me, words spilling from my lips that made me want to die of embarrassment now. The worst part? I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, still taste him on my tongue.

What kind of woman jumps her almost–ex–husband like some sex–crazed animal? The hangover was brutal, but my wounded pride hurt even worse.

“Here.” Kyle’s voice cut through my mortification. “For the headache.”

I peeked over Gas’s fur to find Kyle standing there completely naked, holding out aspirin and water. Morning light carved shadows across his abs, highlighting every perfect plane of muscle. I quickly buried my face back in Gas’s neck, but not before my traitorous body reminded me exactly how those muscles had felt under my hands.

“Thanks,” I managed, reaching blindly for the water without looking up. My mouth felt like sandpaper.

Gas settled across my legs, his solid weight grounding me as silence stretched between us. The room still smelled like sex and expensive cologne, making my cheeks burn.

“Kyle, you know…last night” I stroked Gas’s ears, drawing courage from his presence. “I was really drunk.”

“I noticed.” His voice held an edge that made Gas’s ears prick up.

“What I mean is…” I forced myself to meet his eyes. Mistake. Big mistake. “It shouldn’t have happened. We’re getting divorced. Sex just complicates things.”

“Is that what you want to say? Just sex?” The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees,

“What else could it be?” I clutched Gas’s fur. “I was drunk, you were there, you look like… that.” I gestured vaguely at his ridiculous body. “It could have been anyone.”

The words hung between us like ice. Even Gas went still.

“Anyone?” Kyle’s voice could have frozen hell itself. “So you would have fucked any attractive man who happened to be around?

”

“That’s not-

“Those men at the club?” He stepped closer, radiating cold fury. “The ones with their hands all over you? Would they have done just as well?”

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Chapter 63 The Morning After

“In theory, yes.” My fingers tangled in Gas’s fur.

“Have you forgotten that you are also a wife?“It’s truly ridiculous to hear this from Kyle’s mouth.

“We are about to get a divorce, Kyle. I hope you do not forget.”

Gas growled softly as Kyle moved closer. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

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“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Last night was a mistake. One we won’t repeat.”

His jaw clenched. “You really shouldn’t say that.”

I slid out of bed, wrapping the sheet around me. “It is. Just alcohol and bad decisions. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “Like those men at the club meant nothing?”

“At least they were honest about what they wanted.”

The words hit their mark. Kyle stepped back as if I’d slapped him.

He didn’t say a word more.

It wasn’t until I reached the door that panic hit – had we used protection? I glanced back at the room, catching sight of used condoms in the trash. At least drunk me had insisted on that much.

Back in my room, I slid to the floor, trembling. Gas pressed against me immediately, offering his silent comfort.

“What did I do, Gas?” I whispered into his fur. He licked my face, brown eyes full of love. I am so grateful to have him.

The shower helped wash away physical evidence, but my mind kept replaying fragments. Kyle’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d whispered my name like a prayer. Okay. I really had to turn the water colder, trying to shock the memories away.

“Come on,” I told Gas after dressing. “We need to run.”

His tail wagged as I grabbed his leash. The morning air hit my face like salvation – crisp and clean. Gas pranced beside me, eager to start moving.

We fell into rhythm, feet pounding pavement as Gas trotted happily alongside.

One kilometer became two, then three. My muscles burned, but it felt good. Gas matched my pace perfectly, occasionally glancing up as if checking on me.

My running shoes slapped against the damp pavement, each step sending tiny puddles scattering from yesterday’s rain. Gas’s paws matched my rhythm perfectly, his golden–brown fur catching the early morning sunlight.

We passed the old oak tree at Thompson Street, rounded the curve by the abandoned factory, its brick walls still casting long shadows. Two joggers nodded as we overtook them. I nodded back.

“Good boy.” They said.

I smiled, “Thanks.” Gas was distracted by the squirrel we passed, his ears perked up. I guess he did not hear the praise. Seven kilometers left us both panting as we approached The Morning Bean café. The familiar bell chimed as we pushed through the glass door, the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods wrapping around us like a warm hug.

“Mia! Gas!” Emma, our usual morning waitress, brightened behind the counter. Her red curls bounced as she grabbed a clean bowl. “The usual post–run setup?”

“Please.” I collapsed into our corner booth – the one with the leather bench where Gas could stretch out beside me. “Though maybe something extra for this guy today. He pushed hard.”

Emma crouched down to scratch Gas’s ears. “Been a good boy? Chef Marc just made some fresh turkey. Want some with your kibble?”

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