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“It’s Millie, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
All the life has drained from Rayla’s face, as reality slams into us.
Everything we just said, everything we just shared, it’s wrong, it’s a downright fucking betrayal.
“The ringtone. I know Millie likes to use different ringtones for different people, and she’s made me change mine too. Johnny Cash. A Boy Named Sue. It was one of her favorite songs growing up, believe it or not. She heard it on the radio one day and fell in love with it.”
My voice is hollow, dread surging through me, as I think about what we just did – when I think about what I still feel, the iron certainty that Rayla is mine. But she can’t be. She already belongs to my daughter, as her best friend, the friend she’s been waiting years to meet.
She was never close with anybody in high school. She was like me when I was a kid, her head in books, dedicated to her writing. We would sit side by side and write as she grew up, but she never had a best friend.
Until Rayla.
And I’ve just ruined that.
“I’m guessing she’s done the same with you.” My voice is dead, but I want to roar. “Has she?”
Rayla nods, her eyes wide like she’s just seen a ghost. Horror is moving through her with the same speed and ferocity it moves through me.
“She’s probably just checking in. I should answer it,” she murmurs.
I step away, suddenly feeling foolish with my dick out. Even now I’m rock solid, my manhood swelling, as I stare down at those luscious delicious creamy tits.
Turning away, I pull up my pants and head for the door. “I’m going to check on Tanker. I should’ve heard him barking, but sometimes it’s good… it’s just good to make sure he’s doing okay.”
She knows what I’m doing, making an excuse to leave, so I don’t have to listen to that Kesha song and everything it implies.
Striding down the hallway, I rearrange my manhood, the helm sticky with come, a physical reminder of how wrong this was.
As I round the corner, I hear Rayla’s voice, quiet against the backdrop of the storm. The rain hasn’t stopped hammering, drumming against the roof and the windows, like any second the whole cabin could come crashing down. But this is a well-built structure, and it can withstand way more than this.
But how much can I withstand? Can I pretend to resist her now, when I’ve already tasted her?
“Hey, Millie,” she says. “What’s up?”
Chapter Eleven
Rayla
I walk into the ensuite as I hold the cell phone out in front of me, on speakerphone. The lights automatically switch on and I walk across the sleek room, past the sauna, and grab some tissues. Dabbing at my chest, I listen to Millie – to my best friend, the woman I just betrayed.
“So it looks like I’m going to be delayed. Can you freaking believe that, Rayla? The storm is really bad. People are calling it a freak storm. It’s so annoying, and I know you must be so scared, there all alone.”
As I turn to throw the tissue down the toilet, I catch sight of myself in the reflection of the mirror. My bra is pulled down to reveal my breasts, and they still shimmer slightly with Millie’s father’s seed.
I can’t lie to her, not after what I just did, the betrayal I just participated in.
“I’m not alone,” I murmur, adjusting my bra, covering myself.
“Oh.” She pauses. “Is Dad there?”
“Yeah. He said he came here to write.”
“God, I hope he can do that, Rayla. I really do. His writer’s block is so bad. He used to be so prolific, writing eight hours a day sometimes, hammering at the keyboard and somehow making it all come out right straightaway. He was nothing like me, you know, how I have to drag myself through a scene and beat myself up about it. Do you know what he said to me once?”
I return to the bedroom, cringing at the wistful note in her voice. Of course, she had to pick tonight of all nights to talk about her dad when she never normally does it. It’s like fate is playing a sick game with me.
“What?” I whisper as Roman’s words replay in my head.
He said he owned me. That he’s going to claim me and make me his. That he’s going to take me and he wants me even more now that he knows I’m a virgin.
And I want it too. I sizzle and burn with it, even as my heart aches and a feeling of guilt stabs me.
“He said it’s the only time he doesn’t have to think. He just sits there and the words come out of him, and sometimes he won’t even remember what he’s written. He accesses this zone, this crazy zone, that I can’t even dream of. I don’t know. And then it just went away.”
