Page 22

LOGAN

O h my God.

Sara’s words ring through my brain as Trent jerks back from the kiss. He stares into my eyes, heaving and sweaty, looking a little bit crazed.

“Trent.” I’m trying to reach him, to tell him this isn’t as bad as he thinks. I’m buried in Sara, my cock still twitching from that insane orgasm.

She’s speechless, sprawled beneath me, mute with shock and lingering spasms of her own climax. I’m not even sure if Trent came, but the look in his eyes says he did.

Sweet little Sara swallows?

What a stupid thought to have right now.

“Trent.” I say it again, willing him to snap out of it, to stay with us in this room. “Hey, man. We’re all good if you want to just?—”

“Fuck!” He jumps off the bed like it’s burning, grabbing his shorts from the floor and dragging them on like he’s dressing for battle, then he snatches his shirt off the dresser. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. ”

Sara sits up, and since I’m half-hard inside her, the condom comes off as she twists to the side.

“Shit.” I scramble to grab it, to keep it from leaking. To stop Trent from running, to reassure Sara it’ll all be okay.

But Trent’s way too fast, already pulling his T-shirt over his head. He stuffs his feet into sandals— my sandals, the asshole—then curses and grabs his own shoes.

“I have to—” He stops himself, dragging his forearm over his mouth like he’s wiping away what just happened. “I need to— fuck !”

He sprints for the door, flinging it open and fleeing before I can stop him. I’m still naked and trying to deal with the condom and the beautiful woman who’s watching him run with a dumbfounded look in her eyes.

She swivels to face me, her cheeks going pale as she stares at the condom. A drizzle of come leaks from the edge as I snatch it and tie it off quickly.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, though I’m not sure it is. We have Plan-B here for occasions like this, but I have no idea how she feels about that.

“I’m on the pill.” It’s almost like someone else speaking, like a ventriloquist took over her body. “I—I’m not worried about that.”

That , being a rivulet of semen squiggling from the top of her thigh to her still-swollen folds. I’m the professional here, but I’m not sure what to do first. Grab her a washcloth, or go after her freaked-out boyfriend?

Sara’s comfort takes priority, so I lean in and kiss her, then make a beeline for the bathroom. “Be right back.” I rush to the sink and wet down a white cotton cloth while getting rid of the condom. I’m cursing myself and the prophylactic at the same time.

Why the hell did I kiss Trent?

But he kissed me first. That’s how it happened, though admittedly, my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders right now.

I start to race back to the bedroom, then order myself to slow down.

Someone should be calm here, and that needs to be me.

I paste on a smile that I hope looks serene as I fold the washcloth into a perfect triangle.

Sara’s sitting up with her sexy black lingerie askew and her hair a rumpled mess. She’s watching the door like she thinks Trent might return any second. At the sound of my footsteps, she swivels to face me.

“Did that really just happen?”

I sit down beside her, trying to keep my voice even. “You might have to be more specific.”

She looks at my mouth like the answer lies there and I find myself aching to kiss her.

To press her back on the bed and have her again because God, she felt so fucking good.

That tight little body, her sharp cries of pleasure, the squeeze of her slick walls around me.

She’s so fucking perfect I almost can’t breathe as I force my gaze back to her face.

She sits there, blinking rapidly, still trying to process what happened. “You fucked me and the condom leaked.” She sounds like she’s reading from a risqué teleprompter. “Trent came in my mouth and then kissed you.”

“Yeah.” The sequence of things sounds a little bit off, but that’s pretty much how it went. I’m sponging her gently with the washcloth when she catches my wrist to stop me.

“Let me do it.” Dragging the cloth from my hand, she mops herself up and straightens her lacy black underthings. She’s not saying much, which seems like a bad sign.

“Sara? How are you feeling?”

She looks up and steadies her gaze. “Up until the moment Trent ran from the room, I was feeling pretty fantastic.” Her pale forehead furrows. “Sounds exactly like the night of my bachelorette party, come to think of it.”

I haven’t heard this story yet. “What happened then?”

“I was tipsy and told Trent we should get married right then, that night.” Her gaze goes to the window and her voice sounds far away, like she’s back there again.

“I said we should have a sweet little clandestine ceremony a few weeks before the wedding, so we’d have this deliciously filthy secret, just the two of us.

We could have all the sneaky sex we wanted without anyone ever knowing.

Our special little hush-hush hookup, you know? ”

“Yeah.” And I also know something she doesn’t.

Why words like hush-hush and sneaky sex and filthy secret might send Trent spiraling.

“Now that I think about it,” she says, “It makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah.” She looks down at the limp cloth in her hand. “He told me after he got here that during our breaks, he had sex with other people.”

“He did?” Interesting. “What did he tell you exactly?”

“I guess he’s tried a lot of rough stuff.” She doesn’t sound as upset as I might’ve expected. “Spanking and handcuffs and ropes and hand necklaces.” A pink flush floods from her chest to her cheeks. “I had to Google that last one.”

“Yeah, it’s—a common fantasy.” I get at least two requests a week in the app. “Did that upset you?”

She shrugs, still twisting the cloth in her hands. “Not as much as you’d think. Honestly, I always assumed he hooked up with other women when we were apart. In a weird way, I wanted him to.”

I need to tread carefully here. She’s fragile, though probably stronger than I’ve given her credit for. Taking the cold, wet cloth from her hands, I set it aside on the nightstand. “Why do you think you wanted him to have sex with other people?”

She nibbles her lip and looks out the window again. “So when he married me, he’d know for sure I’m who he wanted to be with. We wouldn’t get ten years down the road with a toddler and a baby on the way and he’d suddenly start looking at other women and wondering what if ?”

“That makes sense.” I’m kinda surprised she’s not taking this harder. That she’s focused on this and not the kiss she just witnessed. Maybe it’s shock? “It still must’ve felt like a betrayal, not finding out until you came here.”

“That’s just it.” She nibbles her lip again. “I told him not to tell me. That if he hooked up with anyone during our breaks, I wanted him to keep that to himself. I practically begged him not to tell me.”

Whoa. Is this part of purity culture? I don’t understand it, but it’s causing her pain, so that’s all that matters right now.

“Why did you ask Trent not to tell you?” Maybe she knew on some level her betrothed wasn’t totally straight. “About hooking up with other people, I mean.”

If she catches my gender-neutral reference, she doesn’t say so. “It’s stupid,” she says. “My mom always talked about how she and Dad met. He had a wild streak in college and didn’t start going to church until after he graduated.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure I follow.

“They were friends before they dated, so she knew about all of his conquests. She used to tell me all the time, ‘If I could un-know the details of your father’s sins, I’d do it in a heartbeat.’” Sara makes a face. “She told me how awful it’s been knowing what Daddy did, who he did it with?—”

“Got it.” And I can’t get distracted by Sara’s sweet voice saying Daddy . It’s not normally one of my kinks, but almost anything she says gets me hot. “So you asked Trent never to tell you.”

“It’s silly in hindsight.” She’s twisting her hands in the comforter.

“Because honestly? It turns me on to think about Trent having sex with all those other women. I know it’s depraved, but I want to know details and—” She shakes her head slowly and lowers her gaze to her lap.

“Anyway, here we are. And now he’s just run from the room. ”

After kissing a man.

She doesn’t say it and I don’t remind her. How fucked up is that?

But somebody needs to tackle the elephant in the room. How do I do it without spilling Trent’s secrets? It’s not like I’m following some bro code that keeps me from outing her boyfriend. She should hear it from Trent, not from me.

Gently, I stroke some hair off her face. As she tilts up her chin to look in my eyes, I feel my world tilt, too.

“I liked what just happened,” she says softly. “All of it.”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

I need to be clear here. “You liked watching Trent kiss me.”

“Yes.” She bites her lip again. “It turned me on.”

And there it is.

Swallowing hard, I feel something release in my chest. “I liked it, too.” My voice sounds gravelly and low. I know what I say next could change everything.

But I still have to say it.

“Something happened just then,” I tell her. “Not just the kiss, but everything leading up to it.”

“What do you mean?”

What I say next could alter my life and career. It’ll change things forever, I know that.

But it needs to be said, so here goes. “You probably think I say this to all the guests, but I swear on my life—I’ve never felt like I do when I’m with you.

Not just you, but you and Trent together.

It’s like—” God, this sounds cheesy. “Like the three of us fit. Like something’s been missing, then you guys showed up and—fuck, I don’t know.

” Dragging a hand through my hair, I wonder what the other consorts would say if they heard me right now.

I’m normally so smooth, so quick with words.

“When we’re all together, the three of us, it’s more than just sex.

It’s like everything clicks into place. ”