Three weeks later, nothing had changed. I came back from California and went right back to doing everything I’d sworn I was going to stop—sneaking around, seeing Carson whenever I could, and keeping Quinn in the dark.

Derek’s words about not wanting to end it with Carson haunted me. If I had done anything in the past three weeks, it was prove his theory right.

Quinn was in Las Vegas covering Oregon State’s bowl game.

I was standing in the kitchen, trying to decide what I wanted for dinner, when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Carson standing there, a box of pizza in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“How about, ‘Hi Carson, come in, thanks for bringing dinner’?” he said sarcastically.

“Maybe I already ate,” I said, but then my stomach growled loudly.

“Either you or your stomach are lying.” He laughed.

I rolled my eyes. “Come in, thanks for bringing dinner.” I moved aside and let Carson in. He followed me into the kitchen, and I reached for the pizza, but he held it above his head, out of reach.

“Maybe I should make you earn your dinner.” He smirked. I stood on my toes and tried unsuccessfully to grab the box out of his hands. My stomach growled again.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” I pleaded.

“Kiss me first,” he demanded.

“Carson! I’m going to starve.”

“No kiss, no pizza,” he said, still holding the pizza over his head.

“Fine,” I fake-whined. I stood back on my tippy toes and pressed my lips to his. A spark shot from our lips down through my body, and suddenly the pizza didn’t matter anymore.

Carson pulled away long enough to put the pizza down, and then he kissed me again, cupping my face between both hands and devouring my mouth.

My stomach growled loudly in protest, and Carson pulled away, laughing.

“I guess we better eat.”

“Or we can just ignore my stomach.”

“Nah, let’s eat. You’re going to need energy for later.” He winked, and my knees went weak.

We sat on the couch and ate, the episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians I had been watching earlier playing the background. I inhaled two pieces of pizza and a beer, and then leaned back onto the couch, feeling much better.

“How do you watch this shit?” Carson said, taking a long swig of his beer.

“Eh, it’s my guilty pleasure, don’t judge me.” I shrugged.

“Oh, I’m definitely judging you,” he said. “But it’s all right … I still like you.” He leaned over and kissed me.

His hands roamed over my body, pulling and tugging at my clothes as he kissed me like he might never get another chance. He crawled on top of me and pushed me back onto the couch, his kisses moving from my mouth to my neck to the top of my camisole. I clawed at his shirt and pulled the fabric up over his head, forcing him to break the kiss for a moment, then his mouth was on mine again.

He ran a hand under my shirt and brushed his fingers softly over the lace fabric of my bra. My nipples hardened under his touch, and I moaned against his mouth. My fingers struggled with his belt. He shifted his weight to give me a better angle and kicked a beer bottle off the coffee table. It shattered on the floor in a spray of foam.

“Goddamn it,” Carson swore, as he jumped up off the couch, careful to avoid the glass. His breathing was ragged, his hair was a mess, and I could see his erection straining against his pants as he stood there staring at the glass.

I giggled.

“What’s so funny?” He looked at me, still sprawled out on the couch, and ran a hand through his hair.

“You look so perplexed,” I said.

“Well, fuck, things were just getting good,” he said. I stood up on the couch and walked to the other side, not wanting to get glass in my bare feet. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close.

“Forget the glass and take me to bed,” I whispered in his ear. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me.

“I’ll take you to bed, but I can’t promise there will be much sleeping.”

“I didn’t say anything about sleeping.” I laughed as he picked me up from the couch, but he didn’t take me to the bedroom. Instead, he sat me down just inside the bathroom.

“I thought we were going to bed?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“We probably need to wash the beer off ourselves,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t have any beer on me,” I protested. Carson reached down and pulled my shirt off over my head.

“Oh, you definitely do … there is beer everywhere.” He laughed and pulled my pants down.

“Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to get me naked and wet?”

“I was going to get you naked and wet no matter what,” he said and turned on the shower. “But the shower will make it better.” He pulled off his own pants and stepped under the warm water before he grabbed my hand and pulled me in after him.

---

I awoke the next morning, weak December sunlight streaming through the windows, Carson’s body tangled up in mine. My heart sank a little. I hadn’t meant to let him stay, to let him sleep in our bed, where Quinn should be. My two worlds weren’t supposed to mix like this.

Carson moved beside me. His eyes opened, then closed again. He pinched his arm, opened one eye, and looked at me suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making sure this isn’t a dream. I never thought I’d get to wake up with you beside me.”

“Well, don’t get used to it; it was a one-time thing, which shouldn’t have happened,” I said, anger lacing my words.

“Don’t be so uptight.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his chest. “Quinn won’t be back until tomorrow, we’re fine.”

I hated his nonchalance, how nothing seemed to matter to him. Sleeping with someone else in Quinn’s and my bed was a big deal. It was the ultimate betrayal. As if everything I had done up to this point wasn’t enough, I had to bring my lover into our bed too.

“Stop thinking,” Carson whispered. “I can feel you stressing about it.” He pulled the covers over his head suddenly.

“What are you doing?” I asked, lifting the covers so I could see his face. He had slid down and was grinning up at me from between my legs.

“I’m going to make you relax.” He winked. Then his mouth was on me, and I forgot all about Quinn and our bed and everything but Carson’s mouth and tongue and the incredible things they were doing to me.

---

An hour later, we were still lying in bed, my head nestled into Carson’s chest, neither of us wanting to move and ruin the rare peaceful moment we had together.

“Be with me,” Carson said suddenly.

“What? I am with you.”

“No, I mean, really be with me. Leave Quinn,” he said. I pulled back from him, pushing his arm off my shoulders and untangling my legs from his.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I searched his eyes for some sign that he was joking.

“You can’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind?”

“No!” I yelled and jumped out of bed, taking the sheet with me. That was a lie, but I couldn’t believe he had the balls to actually ask me. “It actually hasn’t. I’m perfectly happy with Quinn.”

“Oh really?” Carson didn’t move out of the bed. “If you are perfectly happy, then what are we doing here?”

“Get out.” I pulled on a T-shirt and yoga pants.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.” I wasn’t going to let him question me or my marriage.

“Chloe, come on. Forget it … forget I said anything.”

I picked up his clothes off the floor and threw them at him.

“No. Get the fuck out of my bed and leave.” A tear trickled down my cheek. I couldn’t deny that Carson had a point. What were we doing here if I was perfectly happy?

I shook my head; no, he was wrong for asking me to leave Quinn, the husband I still loved. Carson pulled on his jeans and came around the bed to me, but I stormed out to the living room. Carson followed me, grabbed my arm, and spun me around.

“Chloe. Stop. Stop freaking out.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “It was just a suggestion.”

“Well, it was a fucking stupid one. How dare you ask me to leave Quinn for you? Who do you think you are?”

“We’ve been together for three months now; you know I’m not crazy for assuming this could be something more. We’ve made love dozens of times...”

“No, we’ve been fucking. That’s it. This has nothing to do with love.”

“Do you even still love Quinn? Why would you keep coming back to me if you did?”

I slapped him across the face. He looked taken aback as he rubbed his cheek, a red mark forming where my hand had been.

“Don’t you dare question my love for Quinn. You don’t even know me.”

“Chloe...”

“Get the fuck out. Now.”

“Chloe...” he said again. “I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in surrender, but it was too late. I was furious. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. We were supposed to come to some sort of mutual closing that let everyone move on happily. There wasn’t supposed to be yelling and raw emotions.

“Leave. We’re done. This is over.”

Carson’s eyes widened in shock, and then filled with hurt and disbelief.

“I’m not ending my marriage for you, Carson, and you can go to hell for even asking. This was sex, and that’s it.”

“Wow,” he said, grabbing his jacket and keys. “You can’t possibly believe that, can you? Is that what you have to tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

“Fuck you,” I spat at him. I walked over to the door and yanked it open.

“I don’t know how you can stand there and tell me that none of this meant anything when you know damn well it did.”

“Don’t play the victim here, Carson. It’s not a good look on you.”

“So that’s it?” My mind raced back to the morning after the first threesome when he’d asked me the same question.

“It never should have been anything in the first place,” I said. “It was all a mistake.”

Carson walked over and pushed the door closed.

“No, fuck that!” he yelled. “It wasn’t a mistake, and you know it. You don’t just cheat on your husband for three months for no reason. You felt something too, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” he yelled again.

“You can yell at me all you want, but it doesn’t change my answer. I’m not ending my marriage for you.”

“Your marriage is a sham!” I slapped him again.

“You don’t know anything about my marriage!” I yelled back. “Don’t stand there and act like I’m the only one who did something shitty. Quinn is supposed to be your best friend, but apparently, that doesn’t mean shit to you. I’m not the only one who did something wrong, Carson. But two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“What did you expect? That I’d leave Quinn and we’d ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? This isn’t a fairytale, Carson, pull your head out of your ass and look around. We sneak around, and hide, and lie. I’ve lied point blank for you. Quinn is the victim here, not you.” I felt like I was going to be physically ill.

“What about us?” he asked.

“There was never an us. I was never yours to have, not then and not now.”

“Chloe...” I didn’t know what he was going to say, but I didn’t care anymore. I pulled the door open again.

“Just leave, it’s over.”

He shook his head and gave me one last long glance filled with pain and heartbreak before he walked out the door. I let it slam behind him and heard him kick the wall just outside the door and swear loudly before he stomped off down the hall.

I crumpled to the floor and cried.