16
JACK
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles bleach white against the leather. The engine roars as I press the accelerator harder than necessary, my mind replaying Mia's confession on an endless, torturous loop. She’s had sex with all three of us. And she wasn't apologetic about it. And to make matters worse, she doesn't sound like she's in a hurry to make a decision.
Honestly, I can't choose.
The words slice through me like broken glass. Sharp. Jagged. Leaving wounds that won't stop bleeding.
I pull into my driveway and kill the engine, but I don't move. Can't move. My hands are still locked on the wheel, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.
Blake. Noah. Me.
She's been with all of us.
The jealousy that rips through me is primal and consuming. It burns in my chest, spreads through my veins like acid. I'm theprincipal of Riverside Academy. Their boss. And I'm competing with my own employees for a woman I never stopped wanting.
A woman who apparently wants all of us.
I finally force myself out of the car and into my empty house. The silence hits me like a physical blow, and I head straight for the bar cart in my study and pour three fingers of scotch. Then I pour another finger because three isn't nearly enough to dull the rage and confusion tearing me apart.
The first swallow burns. The second goes down smoother. By the third, my hands have stopped shaking, but my mind is still spinning.
I pace the length of my study, the scotch glass dangling from my fingers. My reflection catches in the window. A man in his mid-forties, still fit, still commanding respect in every room he enters. But right now, I look like exactly what I am: a man losing control of everything that matters.
That Fourth of July night nearly ten years ago plays in my memory with crystal clarity. The heat. The fireworks exploding over the lake. The way Mia looked at me across Robert's study, her blue eyes dark and innocent, yet sexy and sultry.
She was eighteen. Barely legal. And my best friend's daughter.
And I wanted her with an intensity that terrified me.
I'd told myself it was wrong. That I was twice her age. But none of that mattered to either of us. I tried a different tactic and mentioned that her father was my best friend. She just shook her head and stepped closer, saying what he doesn't know won't hurt him.
But when she kissed me all those rational thoughts evaporated like smoke.
We had sex right there in Robert's study. The same place I'd spent many a night sitting with him, talking about work, our wives and children, or even just the latest sports game. And then, there I was, seducing his daughter and enjoying every moment of it. We had come together fast and desperate and completely wrong. Her skirt pushed up around her waist. My pants barely undone. The fireworks outside providing cover for the sounds we made.
I should have felt guilty, but I didn't. Not when I was caught up in the moment. Not when I was buried so deep inside Mia that we were practically fused together.
The guilt came afterward. I'd betrayed my best friend. Taken advantage of his daughter. Crossed every line that mattered.
Now she's back, and every feeling I tried to bury is clawing its way to the surface.
But she's not just mine.
She's divided between three men, and I don't know if I can share her.
I drain the scotch and pour another. The alcohol dulls the sharp edges of my anger but does nothing to erase the images flooding my mind. Usually, I'm a very practical man, but right now I've got an imagination to rival any storyteller's. My mind keeps throwing images at me of Mia naked and moaning in Noah's arms. Of her gripping Blake's hair while he pleases her with oral sex.
"Fuck," I growl and then wince. I don't usually use the F-word because I think it's too crass. But right now, it seems to fit perfectly.
This possessiveness I feel is irrational. I know that. Mia isn't property. She's a grown woman who can make her own choices.
But knowing that doesn't stop the fury from consuming me.
I think about Blake. The charming football coach with his easy smile and athletic build. He's younger than me. Stronger. The kind of man who makes women look twice.
Has he made her laugh? Has he held her while she cried? Has he made her come apart the way I did in my office?
