Tryst

“Stop lying to yourself. Stop lying to me. This is us, baby. We’re both fucked up in ways that he’ll never be able to understand. We’re the same, baby. And only I know what you want . . . what you need. You know that, don’t you? You felt it, just like I did. And you’re still feeling it right fucking now.”

Flustered and furiously aroused, I turn around and stalk out with a huff, the echo of his laughter chasing me from the room. Ransom Reed is the biggest mistake of my life. And it’s time to right my wrongs once and for all.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I thought I could do it—I thought I could finally put my own selfish, narcissistic needs aside for the sake of my husband . . . my marriage. But I’m a coward. A coward that was too afraid of not only losing him, but, dammit, losing Ransom too. Because I do feel for him, I do want him, but I want my marriage more. I may want Ransom, but I need Tucker. He’s my husband, my life. So despite what he says, Ransom is nothing more than a passing phase. That’s all he can be to me.

So here I am—in Justice’s playground. Ready to give it all one last kiss goodbye. I could have told Tucker that I’d had a change of heart and wanted no one else but him. But my insatiable hunger for more—for Ransom—is stronger than the desires of my heart. Or maybe they’re not. Maybe they’re more aligned than I’ve allowed myself to admit.

“Don’t be afraid,” Tucker whispers in my ear, before leaving a trail of soft kisses along my collarbone. I am afraid, but not for the reasons he believes.

We’re on one of the round beds—the ones designed for a crowd. There are fewer people here tonight, however, Justice is present. He watches us intently, those molten blue eyes unblinking. Yet, I don’t find his presence u

The lights are dim enough in the room that I can’t really see the other couples around us. I can hear their moans and mewls, but they’re barely visible unless I concentrate. I imagine it’s just us here in this room—just my husband and me. We’re in our bed back at home. We’ve just polished off a bottle of Cab and are feeling free and frisky after a long week. I close my eyes and focus on the feel of his lips moving down my chest and the soft scratch of his 5 o’clock shadow on my delicate skin. He loosens the tie of the terry cloth robe and lets it fall open, allowing cool air to entice my already pebbled nipples.

“Do you want this, Bu

“Yes,” I whine, opening my eyes to gaze down at him as he worships my body with his mouth. “Yes, I want you.” And, dammit, I do. I want this man. I’ve never stopped wanting him, as difficult as that may seem. I may have developed a taste for more, but I never stopped desiring him. He’s my husband, and I love him. Nothing or no one can change that.

My head falls back as he makes his way down my torso, with hands caressing what his lips ca

“Tonight is all about you, baby. You’re in control,” he rasps as he slowly parts my legs, unveiling my sex. “I want to please you in every way. I just want to make you happy.”

His words catch my attention and I meet his lustful stare. “I am happy, Tuck. You make me happy. Every day.”

He responds with a nod before sinking between my thighs and pressing his hot tongue against my mound. The room seems to get dimmer . . . less solid. Lines blur and colors swirl and the air hums around me. I gasp his name as the wet, gentle scrape of his tongue fondles my sex with expert precision, mapping his way to my entrance. I reach between my legs and fist his hair, holding on to this feeling. Trying to keep us here in this moment for as long as we can. I’m on the brink of orgasm when Tucker pushes up to rest on his knees. Sex still gleams on his lip, along with a sinuous smile. I fix a finger to beckon him closer when a chill whispers across my dampened skin.

I part my lips to protest but my breath is barren of all coherency when I allow my eyes to focus on the dark figure slowly stalking toward us, drenched in shadow. My body responds immediately, vibrating with exhilaration and fear. This was what I was afraid of. Not having sex in front of strangers. Not being completely naked and vulnerable in front of Justice. I was afraid of this . . . this feeling. Of wanting another man so badly that his mere presence makes my sex tingle with expectation and my heart break into a drum solo. I’m afraid that he’s right, that I do want him for more than just some premature quarter-life crisis. And I’m afraid that within these dark-stained walls and under the thin veil of candlelight, I won’t be able to hide it anymore.

Ransom approaches with the cocksureness of a bullfighter, taking his time to circle the bed so he can see us from all angles and plan his attack accordingly. His eyes are like a moonless midnight, his too-sensual mouth a tight line of concentration. He isn’t dressed in the navy blue Oasis robe, but in a pair of ripped jeans and nothing else. I want him completely naked, like me. I want him to be just as exposed and aroused as I am.

I watch Tucker watch Ransom with expressionless eyes. When the younger man finally pauses to place a knee on the bed, I feel the air escape my lungs. I feel Tucker shift upright between my legs, yet I’m too captivated by Ransom’s presence to see what’s happening. There’s pressure at my entrance, and before I can brace myself for impact, Tucker is filling me.

“This is what you want, baby,” he grunts out, pushing in to the hilt. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

I nod, too overwhelmed with eroticism to speak. This time, the roles are reversed. Ransom is watching Tucker fuck me. But I want him as more than just a voyeur. There’s no way I can not touch him with him being so close I can smell clean sweat and smoke on his skin. But then again, if I touch him—if I feel his skin on mine, our combined heat creating an inferno of lust that’s hot enough to melt the paint off the walls—I’ll never be able to stop. I won’t be able to kick this nasty habit that causes me to keep ru

As if he’s crawled into my mind and played Scrabble with my disjointed thoughts, Ransom crooks a wicked grin and utters in that voice on the cusp of a moan, “This is what you want too. Isn’t it, H?”

I look up at my husband who still appears unshaken, only his brow furrowed in concentration. He’s inside me yet he’s not moving, his restraint causing a sheen of sweat to bloom across his forehead. He stares back at me, but answers to Ransom. “Yeah. Yeah, she does want that too. Why don’t you give it to her?”