by Marni Mann
Every part.
“Oliver,” I breathed, squeezing his shoulders.
His teeth were on my nipple now, eyes locked on mine.
“Bite it,” I begged, remembering the look on the girl’s face tonight when the man’s fingertips had practically done the same to her.
When his teeth chomped down, I shouted, my back arching, and it made me ride him faster, my speed only increasing the more he rubbed my clit.
I couldn’t stop the build.
“Kiss me,” I pleaded, looking down as his mouth moved to my other breast.
He saw my need, and he was ravishing my lips, a rawness building inside me, moving through me so fast. And I could tell he wasn’t far behind because he was using this sharp, fierce drive that could only come after six years of waiting to come inside me.
I understood exactly how that felt.
And I welcomed it.
“Come,” I growled as his pants hit my lips.
That was all it took for both of us.
Blow after blow of pleasure tore through me, and I screamed his name and heard, “Chloe,” at the same time.
We were shuddering together, our bodies locked, fingers desperately gripping each other’s skin. And while the most satisfying sensation spread through me, I felt him empty himself inside of me.
I clung to his neck until our bodies stopped moving, our lips pressed together, air mingling. “Oliver …”
His nose was rubbing against mine, the dampness of our skin making us so slick. “I’m so fucking crazy about you,” he whispered softly, and I remembered the first time he’d said that to me.
I squeezed him inside me, not wanting to let him out, and I breathed, “I feel the same way about you.”
“Good morning, sweet girl,” Oliver said as he kissed me on the cheek.
My eyes flicked open to see him sitting next to me on the bed, dressed in the clothes he’d worn last night.
“I have to run back to my place and shower for work.” He kissed me again, leaving his lips there for much longer. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
“Mmm,” I groaned, grabbing his hand so he wouldn’t leave. “You want to meet for coffee?”
He smiled, his fingers now rubbing across my chin. “I would love that. I’ll text you in a little bit.”
He kissed me once more, and after I watched him walk to the door, I hurried out of bed and searched the room for my purse, finding it near the entrance. I grabbed my phone from the inside, and the first thing I saw was a text from Lance.
Lance: Looks like you’re already asleep, baby. I’ll try you again when I wake up.
Every memory from last night began to replay in my head.
The sounds.
Tremors.
What it’d felt like each time I came.
And not one of those orgasms was from my husband.
They were from my first love.
And now … I was a cheater.
An adulteress.
But really, what I was deep down inside was a woman completely in love with two men.
Me: I hope you’re having the sweetest dreams. I love you.
I set my phone on the nightstand, and I walked to the shower, where I knew the water would never be hot enough again.
Forty-Five
As I thought of the photo Oliver had sent me this morning of himself, a smile moved across my face, and I stepped out of my closet and into my bathroom, not realizing Lance was standing just a few feet away.
My heart seized, my grin changing for my husband, and our stares connected in the mirror.
“Hi.”
His eyes slowly dipped down my body. “I loved waking up to you this morning.”
“I’m happy to be back,” I said, still wearing my grin as I searched for my breath.
I walked to the vanity and grabbed my diamond studs.
A gift for our first wedding anniversary.
While I was screwing in the back to the first earring, my stomach tightened as I recalled the moment when Lance had gifted them to me in Florida. And just as I was sliding in the second diamond, he came up behind me, hands crossing over my stomach.
His face dived in my neck where he inhaled. “You smell incredible.”
I laughed as his nose grazed a sensitive part of my skin. “If you wrinkle me, you’re dead.”
Both of us were in black suits, but mine was with a teal lacy shell and dangerously high heels, and his was with a crisp white button-down and a red-and-black-striped tie.
“But you know I love to iron,” he growled. “What time will you be home from work tonight?”
I shook my head, fixing my hair now that my jewelry was on. “Hopefully not too late.”
“I can always have Anthony pick you up at the office and take you straight to the restaurant.”
I paused, dropping the large curls I’d been fixing around my face. “What restaurant?”
“Mistral.”
I turned toward him, the reflection in the mirror not showing me enough. “You mean tonight?”
He searched my eyes before he said, “Yes, we’re having dinner with Marshall and Molly.”
My chest began to tighten, my heart pounding so fast that I couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt, and it was moving into my throat like a bull coming out of the gate. “Why would you schedule that?” I snapped.
His hand moved to my shoulder, rubbing into the muscle. “Chloe, we’ve had a standing reservation for the last Thursday of every month for two years.”
Even though we texted every day and we’d spoken a few times, I didn’t want to see Molly. I hadn’t since our talk. I just wasn’t ready because I knew all she’d have to do was look at my face, and she would know what was happening with Oliver.
And the idea of seeing her with Lance … I just couldn’t handle that yet.
Especially because I’d practically moved in with Oliver since the morning after the sex show.
I stared into Lance’s navy eyes and replied, “I’m too exhausted to do anything.”
“We’ll get you to bed as soon as we get home from dinner.”
My brows rose, the gate opening in my throat. “I’m certainly not going to do that because I’m not going to dinner.”
“Chloe …”
A weight was pushing on the center of my chest.
It was almost unbearable.
And it was making my entire body shake.
“Lance, why wouldn’t you confirm with me first?” My voice was rising, and I couldn’t stop it. “You know how tired I’ve been, my God.”
He laughed as he stared at me. “Don’t you think you’re being a little unreasonable? You’ve never passed on a night out with Molly—ever.”
His laugh set me off even worse. “I’m so fucking burned out; I can’t even see straight. How dare you call me unreasonable.”
“Baby”—his hands went to my cheeks while my chest heaved—“what is going on?”
What is going on?
I was losing control and taking it out on him.
And I knew how wrong that was, but I couldn’t stop.
“I’m so stressed …” I whispered, the tears immediately forming in my eyes, pooling quickly, and brimming over my lids. But Lance was there to catch them before any hit my lips. “I have this huge presentation tomorrow morning, and today’s the run-through. I’m sorry; it’s not good for me to go out tonight.”
I saw the concern pass over his face.
“Don’t worry about it.” He pressed his lips to mine and added, “I’ll take care of it.” He searched my eyes one last time, holding my face even tighter. “We’ll have a quiet night in.”
A knot wedged in my throat, stabbing me as I said, “Thank you.”
He kissed me once more before he left the bathroom, and I went over to the sink, turning on the water, but I didn’t stick my hands beneath the stream.
I didn’t even look at it.
I just needed the noise before I completely lost my fucking mi
nd.
I concentrated on the sounds, the drips, the splashes, and somehow, I was able to calm my heart down and find my breath. And I straightened my suit jacket and skirt and made my way out of the master suite.
I was halfway to the kitchen when I heard Lance on the phone, saying, “We’re not going to be able to make it.” He paused. “Chloe is exhausted from the trip, and she has an important presentation in the morning she has to prepare for.” I stayed by the wall, listening, assuming he was talking to Marshall. “The traveling is hard on her,” he said, and then, “Sounds good. I’ll see you at work.”
I filled my lungs as deeply as I could and continued walking, our eyes locking as I made my way into the kitchen.
“I called Marshall about dinner. He understood and said maybe we can do it next week.” He took half of a grapefruit out of the fridge and a spoon from the drawer.
“I’ll make it up to them.”
He took a seat at the bar across from me, and just as he scooped out the first section of fruit, a text came through my phone. Since messages no longer showed on my screen—something I’d programmed a few months ago—I had to open the Messages app to see the text.
Molly: You’re canceling dinner?
Me: So many late nights and early mornings trying to get this brand launched. I’m just exhausted, Molly.
Molly: Okay. Miss you.
Me: xoxo
I glanced up from my phone, seeing his eyes on me, and said, “I’m going to be late for work.” I walked over to his side of the counter and put my arm around his shoulders, pressing my lips against the softness of his cheek. “I’m sorry.” I took a breath, keeping my lips on him. “I’ll see you tonight.”
His hand brushed across my waist. “Have a good day, baby.”
“This is amazing,” I groaned as I chewed the Mongolian beef with scallions that Lance had picked up from Chinatown after work.
He’d also brought home an order of braised eggplant and sweet and sour pork, and those were just as delicious.
“These are my favorite kind of nights,” he said as he reached across the table, spearing the broccoli that I’d left in a pile on the side, “when we get to stay in and have time together.” He watched me with the biggest smile, his jeans and untucked button-down looking so sexy on him.
“Mine too.”
There were many things I was unsure of, but as I stared at my husband sitting across from me, there was a feeling that consumed my chest.
It was love.
And in that moment, I knew without a doubt in my mind that I couldn’t hurt this man.
Forty-Six
“Today, you’re going to fall in love with Amsterdam,” Oliver said as he kissed across my cheek. His arm wrapped over my shoulders as we walked away from my hotel, enough distance that my coworkers couldn’t see us.
A tiny bit of sun was peeking through the clouds, and it was dancing in my eyes as I gazed at him. “You’re going to make sure of that, huh?”
He nodded. “I promise, sweet girl.”
“Are you going to tell me what you have planned?”
He smiled as he turned us right, and we headed down this long section of the canal where the small bridges crossed to our left, connecting us to the next street. Knowing I wasn’t going to get an answer, I clasped my fingers through his.
The only thing Oliver had told me about today was that he wanted me to dress warm. Under my jacket, I was wearing my thickest sweater, and there were UGGs on my feet. As we walked over the dark brick pavers of the sidewalk, I leaned my face into his shoulder, smelling his familiar scent, and I opened my eyes to what was before me—the most beautiful homes lining the canals and people riding their bicycles along the sidewalks and banks. There was the scent of food lingering in the crisp, cold air. I squeezed him a little harder and glanced at his profile. My heart clenched, and I knew there was nothing he could show me in this city that would be more beautiful than him.
Our eyes connected, and his lips gently pressed to mine.
“Just down here,” he said when he pulled away, and he led us to the side of the closest bridge and to the dock that sat at the base of the water.
A boat was parked at the end, the captain standing outside, facing us.
“A canal cruise?” I asked Oliver as we stepped onto the dock.
“Best way to see the city.”
I smiled, thanking him, and he released me just as the captain took my hand, assisting me down the three narrow steps of the boat.
He said, “Welcome,” once I was inside. He pointed toward the rear and added, “Food and refreshments are in the galley. Make yourself at home.”
As Oliver came in behind me, I stopped in the center of the cabin, where there were finger sandwiches, quiche, fruit, and a vanilla cake with strawberries. To the side, chilling on ice, was a bottle of champagne.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered when his fingers touched my waist. I turned around to face him, my arms circling his neck. “You’re amazing.”
His hand dropped down my back, squeezing my ass before he gave it a light smack. “Take a seat. I’ll pour us drinks.”
Still grinning, I went over to the cushioned bench that ran the whole length of the galley and sat in the middle. I watched him pop the cork off the bottle and pour some of the bubbly into glasses. When he came in next to me, he handed me one.
“What are we toasting to?”
“Contract renewals.” He smiled, his eyes smoldering. “And to you loving this city of hope.”
“Cheers,” I whispered, and I brought the drink to my lips.
As the engine began to hum and we pulled away from the dock, Oliver’s arm went around my neck, and he settled my back against his chest. The wind howled as it came through the thin windows of the boat, blowing my hair, and I understood why he’d asked me to bundle up.
We weren’t more than a few blocks away when he pointed at a building. “Do you remember eating there?”
My eyes followed his finger, and I recognized the stone entryway and the beige sign from my last trip to Amsterdam. “Those truffle fries,” I groaned.
“That restroom stall,” he moaned back.
I laughed, clinging my fingers to his elbow as it rested over my breast, and I thought of when he had taken me into that restroom. We’d snuck off between our appetizers and the main course, and then we’d straightened our clothes and went back to our table like I hadn’t cried out an orgasm in the men’s room just moments before.
Oliver’s lips moved to my ear, and he said softly, “You could have this for another six months.”
He was referring to the contract renewal I’d received. The offer was almost identical to the one I had now, except the pay was considerably higher. Since each member of my team was given the same amount, we’d been discussing the details together at work.
“It would be lovely,” I replied, staring out the window as we glided over the water, through the narrow waterway.
“With your last trip scheduled for next month, I suspect you have to make a decision soon?”
I nodded against his chest. “I do.”
I couldn’t believe I was at the five-month mark already and how much had happened since I signed the first contract.
How I was in this boat right now with Oliver, and just days ago, I had been in Boston with Lance.
How Oliver had spent the night in my bed last night, how Lance and I had been talking about spending my birthday in Florida.
How Amsterdam was absolutely perfect with Oliver.
And Boston was perfect with Lance.
But I knew I had to make some decisions soon even if they were going to be impossible. I just couldn’t keep going on like this. My mind was constantly a mess, and it wasn’t fair to both of the men I loved.
I sat up and took one of the small sandwiches off the plate, biting the end before holding it up to Oliver’s mouth so he could eat the rest. As I was reaching for a strawberry, I felt my phone vibrate multiple times, let
ting me know several messages had come through. I turned my body just a little to access my back pocket, where I kept my phone, and entered my password. When I clicked on my texts, the first message that came up was from my husband.
Lance: Ten days, baby. Miss you.
I stared at his words, swallowing, trying to fill my lungs as I heard, “Sweet girl.”
Slowly, I glanced up and stared at the icy-blue eyes that were gazing into mine, and I begged for some breath before I said, “Yes?”
“Can you grab me a napkin?”
I tried inhaling again and searched the table, handing him a few paper ones that I’d found. Then, I put my phone away and added more champagne to my glass, leaning into Oliver’s body again.
“How about some cake?”
I shook my head. There was no way I could put food in me. “I’m not much of a cake girl.”
He hugged me against his chest as we slowed under the bridges, and I listened to the captain point out several of the historic landmarks as I tried to clear my mind.
“I’ll get you some chocolate chip cookies,” he said when the captain finished. “I know a bakery that’s not far from where we’re docking.” He kissed my cheek, and I felt a wave of heat move over me. “The owner is British and makes the best sticky toffee pudding.”
I wrapped my fingers around his arm. “I’ll have to try some.”
“We’ll get some hot chocolate too. It’s fucking divine there.”
A memory flashed through my head of Vail and the candy store Lance had sent me to.
The place where I had found magic … in Lance.
And now, with my back to Oliver, I was staring at Amsterdam, and there was a tear rolling down my cheek.
Oh God.
Forty-Seven
Molly: It’s been a few days … are you alive?
Me: So slammed at work but still breathing. Thanks for checking on me.
Molly: Can we go back to being besties, or are you still avoiding me?