Inviting two men to a family dinner might’ve been my worst idea ever.
On the surface, the atmosphere in my sister’s dining room is cozy and warm. We’ve eaten our fill of Thanksgiving turkey and settled into easy conversation around the table. Bree sits on one side with her husband, David, and my four-year-old niece, Angel. I’m across from her, hemmed in by Cole and Trace.
She and David fill Cole in on everything he missed over the years—their lives pretty much revolve around soccer—while Trace engages in a silent, oddly sweet stare-down with Angel.
Beneath all the smiles and content expressions, however, simmers a sense of discomfort. Bree chitchats and laughs as she talks with Cole, but her eyes keep flitting to me, then to the men on either side of me, and back again.
Yeah, it’s awkward. I’m here with two dates who haven’t said a word to each other since we arrived. Every adult in the room feels the tension lurking underneath the conversations yet no one’s willing to give it a voice.
Not even me.
I spent the last six nights hopping between beds. My time with Trace is filled with cuddling, kissing, stroking embraces without sex. Then I go home and let Cole ravage and plunder every hole in my body.
And Trace doesn’t know.
Because I’m a cowardly dickhead with a backbone made of jelly and shame.
I’m sick with guilt over it, and this godawful feeling isn’t going away until I tell him.
I rode here on the back of Cole’s bike, but I intend to leave with Trace. I’m going to confess everything tonight, and I’m scared shitless.
I broke my no-sex rule with one of them, but not with the other. That’s what scares me the most, because it feels like I made a choice without consciously doing so, and the choice doesn’t sit well with me. Not that I think Cole isn’t the one. It’s just… It’d been years since we had sex, and dammit, he seduced me. That’s not a reason to choose him over Trace.
It’s just Cole’s mode of operation. He charms and tempts, ensnares and claims, and I’ll never get enough of it. If Trace pushed half as hard as Cole does, I’d cave with him, too.
Christ, I’m so fucking weak I annoy myself. The worst part is I’m not the one who will pay the price. When I tell Trace, it’s going to hurt him terribly.
Dread coils in my stomach, and I wrap my arms around myself.
Bree breaks away from the conversation with Cole and David and sets her perceptive gray eyes on me.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She sips her wine, regarding me. “I would’ve come over to take care of you, but you seemed to be in good hands.”
One of those hands touches my knee under the table. I glance at the man attached to it, but Trace keeps his gaze trained on Bree.
“They’re lucky they didn’t come down with the flu.” My breath catches as his fingers slide beneath the skirt of my dress. “They fed and cleaned up after me better than Mom would’ve done.”
Bree laughs. “Mom isn’t very good at the nurturing stuff.”
I love my mother, but I’m not close to her. She’s reserved and introverted, and since she and Dad moved to Florida eight years ago, the distance hasn’t helped. A deeper relationship with my parents would require me to reach out to them more, which I don’t do, because I have Bree.
“It’s nice to see both of you here tonight.” Bree nods at Cole while speaking to Trace. “It must be uncomfortable for you.”
Leave it to my sister to finally address the elephant in the room. But since she thinks Cole and Trace met for the first time a couple weeks ago, she doesn’t know the extent of the bad blood between them.
“When I’m with your sister…” Trace caresses a path up my inner thigh and strokes a finger along the crotch of my panties. “It’s never uncomfortable.”
My thighs clench together, trapping his hand. He seems perfectly at ease fingering me under the table while talking to Bree. Meanwhile, I’m so tense I probably look constipated as I try to keep my hips from rocking against his touch. My face burns, and I clench my fingers against the tablecloth.
Thankfully, Cole’s still discussing soccer with David and doesn’t look in my direction. If I push Trace’s hand away, it’ll draw attention, so I try to relax and temper my breathing.
“You know, this isn’t their first meal together.” I cough into my fist as Trace presses a firm finger against my clit. “They had breakfast together last week without me.”
“Really?” Bree arches a brow.
“Yeah. I have no idea what they talked about—”
“I told you.” Trace wickedly circles that finger, making my toes curl. “We discussed your health and our impact on it.”
“Hmm.” Bree leans in, studying me closely. “I will say, you never get sick. God, how long has it been? The last time you didn’t feel well enough to dance was…” Her eyes drift to Cole, and her complexion pales.
When he died. That’s the last time I was sick. And it was an ugly sick—inside and out, front to back, and dead all over. I didn’t get out of bed for weeks.
Trace watches Cole talk to David then shifts his intelligent gaze to me. “You might’ve had the flu, but you were already rundown. Physically and emotionally. Your health is more important than anything else going on in your life.”
“I like you.” Angel, who’s been quiet all night, directs her big brown eyes at Trace.
The hand between my legs retreats to my knee, and he scowls at the four-year-old. “That’s good, because I like your aunt.”
“I don’t like him.” She points at Cole and narrows her eyes. “I’m going to rip his spine out.”
Angel just met Cole for the first time tonight. Evidently, she’s quicker at making decisions than I am.
“Angel!” Bree angles toward her daughter, glaring. “I don’t want to ever hear that again.
“So put your fingers in your ears.” Angel blinks, expressionless.
“Oh my God,” Bree mouths to me behind the concealment of her hand.
As laughter bubbles up my throat, Bree shakes her head at me. I guess she doesn’t want me to encourage the little demon. So I arrange my face into a disapproving expression.
Bree pushes Angel’s mostly empty plate toward her. “Finish your dinner.”
My niece stares at her green beans and frowns. “Vegetables are ruining my life.”
I can’t stop my laughter this time, and even Trace smiles.
After dessert, we clear the table, and the men step out on the deck with beers in hand. It’s warm for November. Jacket weather. Maybe I’ll join them while Bree gives Angel a bath. But first, I need to pee.
The three-bedroom house is average-sized, appropriate for Bree and David’s teacher salaries. I amble down the hall, bypassing the main bathroom, since it’s currently occupied by Bree and Angel.
I slip into the master bedroom and use the facilities in the tiny en suite. Hands washed and hair finger-combed, I open the bathroom door to step out. And slam into a hot steel wall with a startled oomph.
Cole pushes his way in, forcing me backward and locking the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” My pulse races at the hungry expression on his face.
Eyes hooded and roving up and down my body, he isn’t here to use the bathroom.
“You let him play with your pussy at the table.” His gaze snaps to mine and narrows.
“What?” Shit. Fuck. I don’t want to have this conversation right now. Or ever.
“Don’t pull that innocent act with me.” He grips my hips and lifts me to sit on the edge of the vanity. “Did he put his fingers inside you?”
I shove at his immobile chest. “I’m not answering that.”
Jesus. He was involved in a conversation with my brother-in-law at the time. How does he know where Trace put his hand?
“I’m always watching you.” He cups my face and leans in, his eyes sooty and heavy with desire. “You look so damn beautiful in this dress.”
Since my tight black sheath dress and strappy stilettos couldn’t be worn on the motorcycle, I didn’t put them on until we got here.
“Thank you.” I slide my hands over the front of his white Henley shirt. “We should go back—”
“You’re coming home with me tonight.” He runs his nose alongside mine, heating my lips with his breath.
“No, I’m not,” I say gently. “I was with you last night.” And I rode his cock for hours.
I don’t know what his reaction would be if he knew I was going home with Trace to confess what I’ve been doing. I’m afraid he’ll talk me out of it.
He rubs his hands up my thighs and nudges me wider to spread around his hips. There’s no bossy demands or heated I-need-you whispers. He just grasps the back of my head and stares at me, his bottom lip pouting slightly and begging to be licked.
It’s a look that precedes a kiss, and as our mouths touch, we sigh together. Easing closer, reaching deeper, he brushes his tongue against mine. Each caress urges me to pull him tighter. Every rasping breath paves the way for more. More tasting. More touching. More Cole.
The wet smacking sounds of our lips echo in the tiny bathroom. Then his hands are moving, down my body, circling and caressing my breasts, and lower, pulling on the hem of my dress and yanking it to my hips.
I groan a sound of protest against his mouth and hunch back. “We can’t.”
“We can.” He cradles my face in his hands, his lips wet and swollen. “We can do anything you want to do. What do you want, baby?”
I want him and me in this stolen moment.
Collecting heartbeats.
Falling in love for the millionth time.
Moving slow.
Breathing fast.
Clinging and kissing and connecting in every way.
Because it feels so damn good to be with him.
He reads my eyes and knows what I’m thinking. His exhales fall sharp and swift, and he kisses me, touches my face, his fingers shaking and flexing against my jaw.
“Danni.” A pained whisper. He shoves the crotch of my panties to the side and slides a finger through my wet heat. “So damn sexy.”
Each caress trembles through me, awakening an achy throb between my legs. I grip his shoulders and bite back a moan.
His breaths shorten as he unzips his jeans and frees his long, thick erection, holding my gaze.
I brace for a ruthless thrust. But instead of ramming inside me, he glides the underside of his cock along the slit of my soaked flesh. Over and over, he strokes his length against my pussy, teasing me, staring into my eyes, and running his tongue across my lips.
My feelings for this man are so absolute it’s impossible to not get lost in him. But he’s not the only one who dominates my mind.
I cut my gaze to the locked door and stiffen.
“He’s outside with David.” Cole grips the hair on the back of my head and forces my eyes to his. “Watch us, baby.”
He tips my chin down and grasps my hand, positioning my fingers around the base of him.
His skin burns to the touch, stretched tight and silky over rigid steel. He continues to work the underside of his length against my folds, slipping through the wetness and rubbing against my piercing. With each pass over my clit, he presses his fingers down on the flared tip to create a delicious grinding sensation against my sensitive nerves.
Pleasure sweeps through me, trembling my legs as we watch the movement of his beautiful cock. I don’t think I’ve ever been so captivated, so insanely turned on.
“I’m utterly consumed.” His labored breaths churn the air between us, and he rubs himself harder against me. Then he slips lower, presses against my opening. “I’ve been waiting my entire life for you.”
He seals his words with the push of his hips, sinking inside me with aching slowness. His fingers dig against my hipbone, and his mouth devours mine, kissing me until we’re both breathless.
He swallows my gasps, rocking into me at a hypnotically slow pace. “Every time you let me into your body, it feels like redemption. You’re my faith, Danni. My religion.”
There goes my heart, swooping and thumping and gobbling up every word. He makes me greedy and thirsty. I suck on his lips, sipping and drinking, unable to quench this craving. “I’m crazy in love with you, Cole Hartman.”
With a deep groan, he holds my gaze and slides his hands around my breasts, massaging, caressing, his touch like velvet magic.
“Feel me inside you? You’re as far as I go.” He buries himself to the root and grinds while tasting my lips. “Now until forever, you have all of me.”
I have his heart, his breaths, and every hard inch that pulses against my inner walls. It’s more than I deserve, and I can’t let go.
I glide my hands down the lines of his back, following the hard-sloping curve of his ass and slipping beneath his jeans where they hang low on his hips. And that’s where I hold on, gripping handfuls of solid muscle as he rides me languorously into orgasm.
When I fall, he chases me over the edge with a muffled grunt against my mouth. Connected in ecstasy, lips fastened, and hearts roaring as one, we reach for each other, lost in the rhythm of our breaths.
It’s only after I come down from the blissful high that I start to panic.
“Was I loud?” I glance at the door and wonder if it’s hollow or insulated. “Oh God, I moaned, didn’t I?”
“Shh.” He kisses my lips and steps back, tucking himself away. “No one heard us, and we’ve only been gone ten minutes.”
Knowing Trace, he started a search party thirty seconds after he lost sight of me. I slide off the vanity, straighten my clothes, and slap cold water on my flushed cheeks. I should probably try to clean the come from between my legs, but every second I dally is a risk.
“I’m going out first,” I whisper, reaching for the door. “Give me a few-minutes head start.”
He narrows his eyes, and his mouth curves downward. I lean up and kiss that pout. Then I hit the light switch, blanketing the bathroom in blackness.
With a deep breath, I swing open the door and stride into my sister’s L-shaped bedroom. As I round the corner, Trace enters from the hall, and dammit, I freeze up like bugged-eyed, guilty-as-fuck deer in headlights.
“Where have you been?” His head tilts, seeing too much in his millisecond glance over my body.
“Bathroom.” I walk past him, head high and heart thundering. “I’m ready to go. To your place.”
I expect him to jump on that suggestion and follow me. Instead, he continues into the bedroom and leans around the corner, staring in the direction of the bathroom.
Panic, fear, shame—all of it crashes through me in breath-shaking waves. I’m going to confess everything about Cole, but not like this. Not here. Bree and her family don’t need my selfish drama unraveling in their home and spoiling their Thanksgiving.
Trace straightens and folds his hands behind his back, his head angled down and brows pulled in. Then he paces back to me and laces his fingers through mine. “Let’s go.”
Composed as ever, he leads me into the hall with confident, relaxed strides.
I’m not relieved. If anything, his unflappable dispassion makes me nervous as hell.
As we say our goodbyes in the kitchen, Cole enters with my coat, slipping it over my shoulders and pressing a lingering kiss on my brow.
If Trace saw Cole in the shadows of the tiny bathroom, he doesn’t mention it on the drive to the casino. Doesn’t say a word as we enter the penthouse. Doesn’t stop me when I head to his master bathroom and take a shower.
I dress in the button-up shirt he left on the vanity. By the time I step into his bedroom, I’ve worked myself into a gutless fog of misery and guilt.
He sits on the foot of the bed, still clad in his handsome suit. Knees spread and head down, he’s bent over his lap, staring at his hands. In the background, the mournful vocals of Say Something by A Great Big World croon about giving up.
It’s not a song in my playlist. He chose it deliberately, knowing that music is one of the ways I communicate. His expression is blank. His mouth doesn’t move, yet he’s telling me exactly how he feels through the heartbreaking lyrics.
The sad piano melody shivers through me, raising the hairs on my neck. It’s an end-of-the-rope song. A last-chance, this-is-goodbye, I’m-walking-away song.
He’s done with me.
My knees buckle, and my hand flies to my quivering lips.
No, Trace. Please, no.
Tears rise hard and fast, blurring my vision. Dread twists my stomach, and I can’t breathe. Can’t find my voice.
Say something. Say something. Say something.
Cold, emotionless, he lifts his arctic eyes to mine. “Say what you came here to tell me.”
He already knows.