Piper

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I tell West as he slides on his sneakers and stands up.

After he thoroughly fucked me in the shower, we had breakfast, and then he spread me out on the island and ate me for dessert.

He smiles and licks his lips. I blush because I’m sure they still taste like me.

“Thank you,” he says as he kisses my forehead.

“For what?”

“For letting me in.”

That one sentence carries so much meaning that all I can do is nod. He’s the one who let me in. He risked a lot by coming here, broke just as many promises, and now, as hard as it is, it’s time to say good-bye.

I show him to the patio door, the same way he came in, and just as he kisses my lips one last time, Cannon walks through the front door. West’s eyes grow wide when he realizes what’s happening and how close we are to getting caught.

“Piper? You home?” Cannon yells from upstairs.

Go, West mouths.

Torn between kissing him one more time and running upstairs, I chance another peck before I turn my back on West. And then I bound up the stairs, unprepared for the onslaught of questions about whom I had breakfast with this morning and why there are still dishes on the counter. Proof that I didn’t eat alone.

But Cannon’s not in the kitchen when I get to the top of the stairs. He’s in the bedroom, changing his clothes.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I have to run to the courthouse. I needed something dressier.” He chucks his pants and dress shirt into the hamper and chooses a new outfit—another white dress shirt and black pants. The only thing different is the suit jacket he throws over the top.

I’ve seen him wear the exact outfit he took off to the courthouse before. Why it’s not good enough today, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t make sense. I don’t ask questions like I should though. Instead, I just feel like a hypocrite because I have no room to talk. I’m the one who had sex with another man in our shower, on our counter, and then kissed him with my husband only a flight of stairs away.

God, what am I doing?

Cannon’s so preoccupied with his day, he barely looks at me, doesn’t try to kiss me, and then he’s running out the door again, still tucking his shirt into his pants.

I should be glad I’m off the hook, that there was no painful or uncomfortable confrontation I was forced to lie through, but I’m not. I’m sad. Sad that we’re still in two different worlds that no longer revolve around each other. He used to be so in tune to my body that he’d have noticed my flushed skin or how dilated my pupils still are from West making me orgasm so many times. Now, he has his work and whatever it is he’s doing. And I have West, my own secret.

My phone vibrates, and I stare at it.

West: You okay?

Piper: He left.

Instead of replying in a text, my phone rings. West’s never called me before, and I stare at the screen, unsure of if I should answer it. Then, I realize how stupid I’m being. He was just inside me, so of course, I can take his call.

“Piper?” he asks when I say nothing.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Maybe everything.” My head’s spinning; that’s all I know.

My husband just came home, changed clothes, and ran out the door. Nothing about that is normal. Usually, I’m at work, so maybe he’s done this before. But he didn’t touch me, and our eyes never connected; that’s the exact opposite of how my husband typically operates.

“Why?” West asks. “Did he say something?”

“No, nothing. He just changed and left.”

Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I go to his closet and open his hamper. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Actually, I do. I pull out his dress shirt and check the collar for lipstick. Of course, there’s nothing there, and I feel foolish for even looking. It smells like him and the cologne I got him for Christmas.

I empty the rest of his clothes into a wash basket, checking the pockets for any loose change. The least I can do is throw a load of clothes in the washer.

West sighs and says, “Okay, good. That was a close one.”

It was close, and maybe if Cannon hadn’t been in such a hurry, he would have noticed that I had company or that I was wearing very little.

And then I shove my hand in Cannon’s dress pants pocket. The second my fingers make contact, I know. Before I even pull it out, my heart feels it.

A torn condom wrapper and another unused one.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “West, is Tilly home?”

West is breathing hard into the receiver, so I know he’s running home still. Chances are, Tilly’s going to have questions if she’s been waiting for him. Our runs never last this long. But, if he’s worried about being late, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m just getting back, but I doubt she’ll be out of bed yet.”

With Cannon’s pants still in my hand, I slide down the wall until my butt hits the floor. “I think we have a problem,” I tell him.

“What kind of problem?”

Is it a problem?

“Maybe it’s more of a situation. Or a taste of our own medicine.”

“Piper, tell me what the hell is going on.”

There’s no easy way to say it, so I just spit it out, “I think Cannon just had sex with Tilly.”

I expect a pause, maybe even a little anger, but all West says is, “He doesn’t know where we live, does he?”

“I didn’t think so. But, if Tilly’s still at home, he definitely does.”

“How do you know?”

My hand is still shaking with the proof in my palm. “Because there’s a condom wrapper in his pants, the ones he just changed out of.”

West is quiet for a minute, and then he lets out a deep breath. I’m sure he’s just as surprised as I am. But how can we confront them when we’ve been doing the exact same thing? This morning, we literally swapped houses and fucked each other.

“Let me call you back,” he whispers. “She’s in bed.”

A little piece of me hates that he’s home with his wife, that she gets both Cannon and West, and that he might climb back into bed with Tilly after he just had me.

I should be freaking out that Cannon was just with Tilly behind my back, but I’m jealous. I get how hard it is to deny yourself something you want so badly. But I didn’t think Cannon was that into Tilly.

I’ve been wrong before.

I’ve been wrong about swinging.

I thought I could keep my feelings separate from the sex.

I can’t.

I need West too much. For the very first time, that admission doesn’t terrify me.

It should.

Because, if my world falls apart, it’ll be my fault. I’m the one who found the forums and websites. I’m the one who introduced Cannon and Tilly. And I’m the one who could lose both Cannon and West because of it.