If
she hadn’t just ruined that.
Finally getting herself apart from Rogan and onto her feet, she said to him, “I’m sorry, Rogan. I’ll probably always want you in ways—but Ethan has my heart now.”
And with that, she started to dash off the porch after the man she loved, but Rogan stopped her with, “Babe. Shoes.”
Oh shit, he was right—she’d learned already that it was dangerous to walk around here barefoot, even when trying to be careful choosing each step, and right now she didn’t have that luxury—she needed to run!
Rushing back into the cabin, she spotted her flip-flops and shoved her feet into them. And she thought briefly of clothes, remembering how little she wore, but then decided it didn’t matter—it was more important to catch up with Ethan before he got any farther away.
And what she’d just told Rogan was so very true—she did want him, she truly cared for him. Maybe she even really loved him. But it just wasn’t on the same level as what she shared with Ethan. This weekend with them both had been beyond incredible, but so confusing, too—and to tempt her with her old lover had just been, well …
too
tempting, apparently. Yet now, faced with the idea of really losing her man, and knowing how much she’d just hurt him … her heart shriveled in her chest.
She felt bad about the fact that she barely gave Rogan a backward glance as she darted out the door and down the steps, though she still heard him say, “Be careful,” behind her. And she truly wished she had time to go back, to make him understand—and maybe give him one last kiss. But she didn’t. She’d screwed up her priorities enough his weekend already—now was the time to remember who came first and to put him there the way she should have all along.
From the side of the cabin, she scanned the area and caught sight of Ethan up ahead—he followed the path that led to the well.
God, he has to go
there?
To the very spot where I first betrayed his trust?
But she couldn’t think about that now or let it slow her down—so she moved briskly up the trail after him, as quickly as she could go in her flip-flops, her heart pounding a mile an hour.
“Ethan, please wait!” she called after him. He was moving too fast and she wasn’t gaining any ground.
But he ignored her, just kept walking. And for the first time since he’d appeared on the porch, her sense of shock and panic began to give way to something else:
I could lose him. I could really lose him. Right here and now. God, maybe I already have.
She moved faster, watching her footing, jogging a little when she could, but the path grew more narrow with each step, and like the last time she’d been in these woods, she felt the forest closing around her, becoming more pervasive. She hadn’t minded it so much then—but she minded it now. She suffered the sense that the forest might just swallow her and Ethan whole by the time she caught up to him.
Chilled by air that felt cooler, danker under the trees than back at the cabin, she was breathless by the time she began to draw closer to him—he’d reached the trail’s end at the wishing well. He still held a dark blue T-shirt wadded in his hand, one she recognized from a Florida beach vacation they’d taken together two summers ago.
Now that she was here, she wasn’t quite sure what would happen and thought he might just keep right on ignoring her—but instead he looked up at her approach.
“This your wishing well?” he asked brusquely.
“Yeah.” Her voice came too quiet; she barely heard her own reply.
His eyes narrowed on her in disgust. “What’d you wish for?”
“Lasting love,” she told him. “For the rest of my life.”
He simply made a
pffft
sound and rolled his eyes. She guessed she couldn’t blame him.
“I meant it,” she insisted anyway. Though she wouldn’t explain that the coin she’d used had come from Rogan’s pocket—and she had no idea if she should tell him what else had happened here with Rogan, either. Same as when it had taken place, it wasn’t that she wanted to lie, but why hurt him further? Why make him think she really wanted Rogan when she knew now that she didn’t? Yes, she’d been confused for a little while, but it all seemed so clear to her now. And so she simply spoke from her heart, and was as honest as she
could
be about how she felt. “Ethan,” she began, “Rogan is … sex. But you’re …
everything
. You’re sex, you’re love. You’re … walks in the park and trips to the doctor. You’re paying the bills and running errands with me on Saturday mornings. You’re holding me when I cry at sappy movies. You’re … snuggling while we sleep. Rogan is sex, but you’re
my life
.
“What you saw,” she went on when he didn’t answer, “that meant nothing. This weekend was … amazing for me, but also … confusing as hell, E. It brought back old feelings for Rogan—and maybe I just had to get them out of my system or something. But I never meant to do anything that hurt you. And I promise it’s all in the past—you’re the only man I
really
want. You’re the one I love.”
Ethan simply looked at her. He’d seen so many sides of her over the past two days—and now she stood before him in her underwear in the middle of the woods apologizing for something that … despite himself, he still couldn’t believe she’d done.
Because even though they’d never actually talked about it, to share her with Rogan, to have a threesome with him, was a damn different thing than for her to go fooling around with him when he wasn’t there. And she obviously knew that—all three of them knew it. This weekend had been intended to draw the two of them closer together, not bring about things that would tear them apart.
“It still … fucking hurts,” he told her. And hell, it was even more than that—it felt like having his damn chest ripped open. Like he couldn’t even breathe.
“I know, Ethan, and I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.” He couldn’t deny that she looked as upset as he felt, her eyes desperate and guilty, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Apologizing is all I know to do. Please forgive me.”
He found himself thinking aloud, not even weighing his words. “I gave you this fantasy—and this is what I get back in return.”
In response, her eyes changed then—shifting from distress to just … a replete sorrow he could almost feel dripping off her. “It was … a pretty complicated gift,” she quietly pointed out. “Generous beyond words, but … a lot to handle without much warning.”
And shit—something in her words squeezed his heart. He didn’t want to feel bad for her right now—she’d fucked up and he wanted to stay mad, hold her accountable—but … hell. He’d
brought
Rogan here. To her birthday celebration. And right into the center of their relationship.
And he’d wanted it to be simple—this simple living out of her fantasy. He’d wanted it to be easy and hot and fun. Yet the truth he couldn’t reject now was that maybe it all came with … a certain darkness, too. A darkness that revolved around sex and lust and pushing boundaries. A darkness within him that he’d … shoved on to her, without warning, as she’d said.
And that’s when it struck him: He’d actually thought a threesome could be simple. He was a lawyer, he’d been trained to think in logical ways—and yet that very thought suddenly seemed like a contradiction in terms.
Threesome
.
Simple
. The two words just didn’t make sense together.
So maybe he’d been unwittingly asking for this. Maybe it was … some kind of cosmic punishment for wanting to bring this kind of forbidden excitement into their lives. Maybe, even though he’d wanted it for her, maybe he’d wanted it even
more
for him. More than he’d ever been willing to admit to himself until this moment.
So maybe it was his own fault he’d just found his girlfriend grinding against another guy’s dick.
And still, when he tried to look at it
that
way—remembering the naughty grind, the hot, happy encounter he’d seen taking place—hell, the sting of betrayal came right back, piercing his soul all over again.
And though, both as a cop and a lawyer, he’d gotten pretty practiced at controlling his emotions, showing only what he chose to any given moment—right now he wasn’t holding back what he felt. So when he spoke, it came out gruff. “Look, I know I started this, I know it’s my own fucking fault he’s here, but now … damn it, Mira, now I just need to fucking know you belong to me!”
She looked a little startled by his tone, and despite himself, it pleased him. “I do belong to you, Ethan! You know that! I do!”
He drew in a breath, let it back out. Tried to let it calm down the ferocious anger still tightening his chest. It didn’t work, but when he replied, his answer at least came out lower, quieter. “That’s not enough. I need to feel it.”
At which she looked confused, bereft. And pretty as hell still standing there in that bright pink cami and black panties. “How can I make you feel it?” she asked.
As the dense woods seemed to wrap around them a little tighter in lush green isolation, that same darkness he’d acknowledged a moment ago came wafting back, seeming to settle over him in a heavy mist, something he almost felt covering his skin. It was the darkness that had first nibbled at him when he’d come up with this idea, this birthday party for her—it was the same darkness that he’d experienced in a deeper, more direct way last night when it had been Rogan’s actions who’d made him feel so possessive and hungry. And now he experienced its power again, forcing him, one more time, to open himself up and accept what he really wanted. Hell, who knew—maybe he’d
always
wanted it in some hidden corner of his soul. God knew
something
inside him had put all this into motion.
Whatever the case, he wanted it
now
. And he couldn’t see any other way than to just be honest, put it out there. Despite the new truths he’d just discovered about her still having feelings for Rogan, he couldn’t refute that this weekend had been all
about
honesty—sexual honesty to be exact—and here was some more. “Maybe I need … to be a little rough with you. Maybe I need to make you beg a little.” Something thickened his throat as he spoke—he thought it was lust. “Maybe I need to feel what I felt last night when I fucked you on that table—like you’re all mine, no matter what it takes. Like the harder I fuck you, the more mine you become.”
At first, he thought she appeared a little frightened. That he could say something like that. But then he realized that, at the same time, she looked … excited. Aroused as hell, in fact. Then she said, “Whatever you want.”
Whatever you want.
That’s what she’d said.
And he was going to take it to heart.
He hadn’t come here knowing he could ever be turned on by being so dominant—hell, that role fit Rogan,
was
Rogan, and he saw the two of them as opposites in many ways. But maybe in
this
way they were more alike than he’d ever suspected.
Because right now the idea of having power over her—emotional as much as sexual—had his cock hard and throbbing behind his zipper. He wanted her undying devotion, and her willingness to do anything it took to prove it. And he was still pissed. And putting those factors together made it so he didn’t even try to fight it.
“Then get on your knees and suck my cock.” It came in a low, firm command.
And though there was a part of him that waited for her to look a little horrified, or maybe even tell him to go to hell—because this was not a game they’d ever played before, and at the moment it didn’t feel much like a game—she simply let out a quiet breath, stepped forward, and sank gently to her knees in the soft earth beside the old stone well.
He inhaled sharply as she reached up to undo his jeans, the look in her eyes … downright loving, giving.
But when she pulled down his briefs, hooking them under his balls, then boldly took his erection in her hand, her expression changed to one he’d seen many times this weekend—she was suddenly the hungry animal who needed to be fed.
As she lowered her mouth over him in one long, wet descent, a groan rumbled up from his gut.
“Look at me,” he told her, and she raised her eyes, and in spite of the gnawing ache still clawing its way down through him amid this fresh pleasure, he knew he would forgive her.
Was
forgiving her, this very moment.
She moved his dick in and out of her tender mouth with a skill and enthusiasm that soon almost made it difficult to keep on his feet. She’d always been good at giving a blow job, but the undeniable fact was—she’d gotten even better at it this weekend with so much practice. “Aw baby, yeah. Don’t stop, keep going. You suck me so, so good.” And with that, he reached down, ran his fingers through her hair, and held on to her head lightly without controlling her moves. He had enough power already right now and she did a damn fine job without him guiding her mouth. He couldn’t imagine it feeling any better.
Mira was nearly overwhelmed with emotion. So much had happened in the past fifteen minutes that she could barely fathom it. And now she was on her knees in the dirt, proving her love after having him demand it of her, and … God, to her surprise, she was excited. More excited than she could have predicted or could even really understand.
Lord, this was a new side of Ethan—even more commanding than he’d been for a little while last night. And though she’d never known she wanted anything like this from him, it had her aroused beyond words. She had definitely developed a new appreciation for sucking a man’s cock this weekend, but at the moment she truly reveled in bringing Ethan pleasure. She delighted in having submitted to him at his demand. And she felt like just one more wild-growing thing in the forest.
What did it mean that she wanted him to control her a little? She had no idea. But she didn’t care. And … maybe it was just a little kinkiness. And as Rogan had once taught her, she
liked
a little kinkiness.
Maybe, until this weekend, she’d forgotten that. Ethan had, from the start, always seemed so much more like her than Rogan ever had. Ethan was the guy next door, the one you took home to meet your mother. And after Rogan had led her down a few hot and marginally kinky paths and then broken her heart—well, Ethan’s clean cut, aboveboard image had appealed immensely. Especially when she’d learned how drop dead hot and sexy a clean cut and aboveboard guy could be.