nice slap at the man you love to hate. But I’ll have you know, fidelity is very important to me… when the person means something. Brenten is an idiot. He’s a seat-filler, and no matter how hard you try to convince us with your hoity-toity speeches about boyfriends and being a good girl, we all know he’s nothing more than a seat-filler. When you find the guy that is worthy, you’re not gonna cheat on him. You’re gonna be so fuckin’ busy loving him and riding the rollercoaster of passion we both know you’re destined for, that you won’t even have a second to consider anything else. Brenten is a stand-in, a trophy of your own, so that you look decent at functions. But I’m not blind, Olivia. Nor am I stupid.”
“Why’d you secure the chain?”
I frown and let my gaze wander back to the door. “Huh?”
“The chain on the door,” she explains. “Why’d you latch it?”
“How many folks have keys to your place?”
She shrugs and brings the can of Pepsi up to her lips. And yet, her eyes remain on the door. “I lost count. A few. Mom and Oz. Ben and Evie. Bean and Mac, since she’s my half-sister.” Finally, her eyes come to me. “Did you know that Bean is my sister?”
“The ballerina Bean? Jamie’s sister?”
“Mm. She’s just as much my sister as she is his. Crazy, huh?”
“I don’t… um… what?”
“My biological father – whose name was also Ben,” she explains, “was married to my mom. They had two little kids and a cute house with a picket fence in the suburbs. But at some point, my father decided he liked what he saw when Isabelle Kincaid walked on by. Her last name wasn’t Kincaid back then, but you get the point.” She sets her soda down with a huff of exasperation. “Ben was married, he had a family at home, and yet, he decided to cheat.”
Her cheeks pale as she brings a hand to her stomach. “Oh my god. It only just hit me now that we both cheated.”
“It’s not the same.” I cross the kitchen and stop in front of Olivia while she descends into her freakout. I grab her face, cup her cheeks, and bring her gaze up to mine. “He was married, he was living with a family, he had responsibilities. What he did was bad.”
“I cheated, William!”
“You are a woman who goes to dinner sometimes with a dude. You’ve known him for a couple months, you’re not living together, and you’re certainly not fucking married or have kids. It’s not the same.”
“You’re justifying it, then? There are levels at which it’s okay to cheat?”
“No, I—”
“If I told you right now that Brenten and I were done, and I wouldn’t mind getting dinner with you tonight, what would you say?”
“I’d say I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Right. And then tomorrow, a new guy comes to town, and I kinda like what he looks like. Can I go fuck him too?”
“No.”
“But we’re just people who got dinner one time, William! We’re not married, not living together, we have no kids or true commitment to each other. So why the hell are you moving the goalposts? Why is it okay to screw around on Brenten, but not you?”
“Because Brenten doesn’t care about you!” I squeeze her face between my hands, and yank her forward until our lips clash and her breath scorches down my throat.
Tears glisten on her cheeks, and her breath is hot and intoxicating as it races into my lungs, but I hold on anyway and accept her anguished cry when our tongues dance and duel. I adjust my hold, cup her neck, and angle her head until our kiss goes deeper, and when that’s not enough, I reach down and lift her onto the counter so her legs wrap around my hips and her fiery core rests against my cock.
She’s a contradiction of lust and torment. Of longing and her own restrictions. She wants me, but she’s convinced herself that she’s not allowed. She wants so badly to have me without the guilt, and yet, the guilt is internal and unnecessary.
“I locked the door,” I tell her between nipping kisses, “because I didn’t want anyone to come in and find us even hanging out. I’m not going to be the reason you get caught. I won’t be the reason a guy wants to beat on you if you’re seen in the same room as me.”
“Just one more time,” she pants and slides