Effie woke up with bleary eyes and pushed her fists against her eyelids.

She couldn’t gauge what time it was, but the brightness from outside was almost blinding. She burrowed deep into the blankets and pushed herself backwards to press her back into Thorne’s. There was a cold space between them before her ass met his cock through his pajamas.

Why is he so far away? she wondered briefly, but the thought didn’t last long.

She was instantly wet, not used to having him hard and wanting her in the morning.

She felt the hand slink across her stomach, beneath her shirt. Effie let out a low moan as the roughened fingers made their way to her nipple and pinched lightly. With his other hand, he tugged down her bottoms just enough so he could slide in.

Effie let out a gasp and he tweaked her nipple harder. She was full, almost too full, on the verge of coming already.

He fucked her harder, slammed himself into her. His teeth bit into the softness of her neck in between kisses and suckles she knew would leave a mark.

“You’re going to make me come,” she whispered.

His finger found her clit and he began to work her like never before.

“Come with me,” she demanded. Effie let out a scream as she felt his hot release inside her.

It pushed her beyond any orgasm she’d had before, into another world. She reached behind and turned to search for his mouth with hers. Only then did she realize it was King--

Effie awoke with a start, sweating and her thighs slick with her dream orgasm.

Shit, it was just a dream, she thought.

It took her a moment to adjust to the darkness. To realize that Thorne was gone, or as good as. The years of thinking or hoping that his wandering eye was just looking had all gone to hell.

And now here she was trapped with his brother. Her ex.

Fuck.

Carefully, Effie glanced over her shoulder, almost certain he’d be there. After all, he’d said they would likely have to share a bed—or maybe he was just messing with her. Keeping her on edge. Maybe he’d said it just to see how she’d react.

But King was nowhere to be found. There was no sign of him in the room, and from what she could tell it would be daybreak any moment. As her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she could see he’d straightened some things up. If he had slipped into bed with her, he’d made his side of the bed so perfectly with hospital corners there wasn’t a single wrinkle.

Effie slid out of bed and re-rolled his pajama pants. She could tell her underwear were soaked through from her dream, but in her haste to escape Thorne’s apartment she hadn’t had the forethought to grab any extra underwear or bras. These would have to do until she could discreetly hand wash them.

After a moment’s thought, she made the bed as well as she could, trying to mimic King’s precision. She stood back and looked, and she was still able to tell which side was hers.

She shook her head. At least she’d tried.

She snuck down the hallway in the too-quiet house. Light poured in from the kitchen, but she heard nothing.

How long did I sleep? Did he leave me out here?

But just as she approached the doorway to the chef’s kitchen, King appeared with two cups of coffee in hand. “Jesus, Effie, you’re like a cat. I almost ran into you.”

“I’m the quiet one? I thought you left me here!”

“And where would I go? In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t bring a car up here, I’d called a Lyft. You think I ran off with your animal hair-covered car?”

She sucked in her breath and forced herself not to snap back. “Is that for me?” she asked, and gestured to the coffee.

“One of them is.”

Their hands brushed as he handed her the steaming cup. She’d forgotten how long and elegant those hands were—those of an artist or a piano player. King had laughed when she’d told him that as teenagers.

“I’d love to be an artist,” he’d told her. “But, trust me, I can leave the piano.” Darkness had clouded his eyes, but she’d been too young and enamored by him to dig deeper.

Effie looked into the milkiness of the coffee, surprised that he remembered how she took it. Or at least how she used to.

“One-third cream, no sugar,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. She almost jerked away at the electricity of his skin on hers.

Over the past two years, Thorne had nudged her towards espresso, black and bitter. He’d said it was more sophisticated, that her coffee was more like dessert and betrayed how American she was.

“But I am American,” she’d told him. “So are you.”

He’d just laughed.

Now, as she curled onto the couch with King on the opposite end, she brought the sweetness to her lips and closed her eyes in pleasure. It had been so long since she’d had something so simple that she adored. She’d almost forgotten how indulgent it could be.

She could feel King’s eyes on hers. His watching made her want to pose, and she wished desperately she’d had the sense to brush out her hair or splash water on her face.

I must look like crap. She tried to discreetly run her fingers through her hair, but that made her even more self-conscious. What is it about these Smith men I can’t seem to quit?

King kicked one of the throw blankets over his feet.

“I found your phone in the mud room. I plugged it in for you,” he said as he tossed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said.

She didn’t want to, but she looked at the screen and saw a million missed calls and texts from Thorne. There were a few from her best friend, Renee. Effie groaned.

“Still haven’t learned to keep your phone charged, huh?” King asked.

“I didn’t forget. I wanted to… escape.”

“Hiding from the real world up in someone else’s cabin buried in those romance books isn’t going to do you any favors.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, this isn’t my cabin. Geez, let it go already. What are you going to do, kick me out in the blizzard?”

“It’s hardly a blizzard.”

She could only see snippets of Thorne’s messages, but it was enough to know they started out wildly apologetic and then veered into blaming her for what happened. Effie squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Your brother is a freaking asshole,” she said, and threw the phone into the depths of the chair across the table.

King raised his brows. “You’ll have to deal with him sometime.”

“Sometime. Not right now.” Effie gazed outside to the frozen landscape. Snow continued to fall steadily.

“We’re going to be here at least another day,” King said. “Plenty of time to figure out your next move.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

King shrugged. “Take it however you want.”

She eyed him, then jumped up and headed to the bathroom.

Effie shuffled out of the oversized clothes and turned on the shower as hot as it could go. Below the rainfall showerhead, she tilted her head upward and let the water wash away the stickiness that had spread to cover most of her thighs.

It’s going to hurt, untangling myself from Thorne, she realized.

It wasn’t so much him, but more the logistics. Effie hadn’t realized how much their lives had grown together.

More like his consumed mine, she thought bitterly.

There was the condo, of course, but at least it was just in his name. She’d been surprised when Thorne asked her to pay a portion of the utilities—and how much he asked. He owned the condo outright and certainly wasn’t hurting for money.

“I figured you’d want to do it out of principle,” Thorne had said. “I mean, you don’t want to be a kept woman, do you?”

That hadn’t been what she wanted, but she was dating one of the wealthiest men in Chicago. On a vet tech’s salary, the amount he asked of her was a serious pinch every month. And that was on top of her paying for the insurance and utilities for Yaya’s and her mom’s house.

Our house, she reminded herself. There was no way in hell she’d ever step foot in Thorne’s place again.

As she massaged the shampoo into her hair, a lock snagged on the engagement ring. She’d nearly taken it off when she’d driven madly from Thorne’s place to the cabin, tempted to throw it out the window.

The sentimental value was gone instantly, but she could only imagine how much it cost. Probably more than enough to take care of her Yaya and mom for life.

Effie looked down at the ring and slipped it off. Carefully, she leaned out of the walk-in shower and put the ring on the granite counter. Her hand felt naked and too light without it.

What is my life, really, without Thorne?

Sure, he’d only started dating her to hurt King, but hadn’t it grown beyond that? He wouldn’t really marry her just to piss off his brother, would he?

And Thorne’s offering to pay off her mom’s house, ensure her family always had a place to live? There was no way she could ever do that on her own. Not on a vet tech’s salary.

Wasn’t that worth it, putting up with him? If it meant her Yaya and mom were taken care of?

The last time she’d talked to her mom about the mortgage, there was still nearly a quarter million left on it. Then there were the property taxes, the maintenance, all the utilities, and the increasing medical bills for both of them. Yaya’s Medicaid was pretty solid, but her mom was years away from qualifying.

Effie stepped out of the shower and shivered in the sudden coolness. She pulled on the plush robe and combed out her damp hair with the wide-toothed wooden comb kept in the top drawer. As she pursed her lips, she examined herself in the mirror.

So where does that leave me now? What are my options?

She knew Thorne would take her back, that wasn’t an issue. Even if he was desperately trying to fling mud at her to make himself feel better in the moment. More than anything, he was probably worried that she’d already told her mom or his parents.

After all, his parents adored her, and had ever since she’d been with King. They didn’t care that she didn’t come from money. They cared that she was pretty, polite, and malleable. That was the word Thorne had used when he told her about their reaction after he proposed.

Effie knew that if she walked down that aisle with Thorne, he would just cheat again. She knew what her mother would say, too.

“You marry that boy no matter what, because he’s our primary source of security. You’ve put in the time, now get the ring.”

Remembering those words almost made her cry all over again. Her mom was right in some ways. But her mom came from a different generation. She came from a place of real poverty and knew what it was like to struggle. Security trumped everything else.

“All men cheat,” her mom would say if Effie told her about the affair. “Don’t let it bother you, they get better about hiding it.”

She’d heard her mom dole out similar advice to friends and extended family. When Effie had first heard it, she was about ten years old and her mouth had dropped open in shock.

I’ll never stay with someone who cheats on me! she’d thought at the time. But at ten years old, you still believe in fairy tales and that romance books are real.

Effie pulled out some new makeshift pajamas from King’s drawer. Heading back into the living room, she scrolled to Renee’s name and did her best not to read any of Thorne’s messages.

“Hi, sorry! Out of work for a conference, will call you when I get back,” she texted. As soon as it sent, she turned off the phone.

Effie picked up her book, but as soon as the story pulled her in with promises of happily ever afters and mind-blowing sex, the door opened and a gust of icy wind blew in.

“More firewood,” King said, his arms full of kindling.

“Hey, are you hungry?” she asked. “I saw those old-school iron sandwich makers in the kitchen the other day. We could make grilled cheese over the fire.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” King said over his shoulder as he began to feed the fire.

She dug through the pantry and checked the bread for mold. Fortunately, it looked like King had done some adequate shopping en route to the cabin. Effie grabbed the Tillamook cheese, gouda, and whipped butter along with the black iron sandwich maker.

“I haven’t done this in forever,” King said as they prepared their sandwiches fireside. “Not since …”

“Yeah, me either,” Effie said, cutting him off. She already knew what he was going to say. Not since we were together.

They both stared into the flames and turned the sandwiches slowly.

“Poker?” King asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Cards, do you want to play cards?”

“Oh. Sure,” she said.

“Watch mine,” he said, and pulled himself up to search through the game closet. “Sorry,” he said and tossed the deck to her. “These must have been from the bachel—it doesn’t matter.”

Effie looked at the deck and almost laughed. Each card featured a nude woman looking coyly between thick lashes.

“It’s fine,” she said. She pulled their sandwiches out of the flames and peeked inside. “Perfect.”

She slid them onto plates and set them aside to cool.

“Hey,” King said as he expertly shuffled the deck. The cards moved like magic between his deft fingers. “You want to make this interesting?”

“Sorry, no money,” she said.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I am not playing strip poker,” she said defiantly.

“Nobody asked you to. Here’s the deal. For every hand I win, you answer a question. And vice versa.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Consider it truth or dare without the dare.”

“Okay, fine,” she said.

Effie had forgotten how good he was at this. King had become even better at bluffing, or maybe she just didn’t know him like she used to.

With his first win, he asked her, “Tell me honestly, do you like your job and what do you like the most?”

“That’s two questions, but I’ll answer. Yes, I love my job. My favorite part is seeing how much happier the animals are when I can help relieve their pain.”

She thought he let her win the next hand, but she wasn’t going to complain.

“How’s your mom?” she asked. “I mean, really. I… didn’t see her much with Thorne and it was always with him around.”

“She’s okay,” King said quickly. “Honestly, I don’t see her much either.”

Halfway through their sandwiches, there was a shift. The questions delved deeper. With a winning hand, King gathered the cards to re-shuffle.

“Who was better in bed?” he asked.

“What?”

“You heard me. Me or Thorne, choose.”

“It’s… been a long time,” she said quietly.

“You’re staring at the barrel of a gun, you have to choose.”

“Shoot me, then,” she said.

He let it go and she dealt her hand. Adrenaline pounded through her body, and somehow she gave herself a full house.

“What do you miss the most about me?” she asked, though she couldn’t meet his eyes. She was too distracted by the lack of space between them. How he smelled clean, like cedar.

“Everything.”

Her cheeks warmed at his answer. This game is too intense for us right now, she thought.

As soon as she could, she pled fatigue and settled down with a book. All the words danced in her vision, though. Try though she might, she couldn’t stop thinking of King.