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Sweet release breaks through the dam, and I press my cheek against Sebastian’s bicep. “I’m coming…I’m coming so hard!” My hands find their way into Tatum’s hair, and I hold on for all I’m worth, bucking against his tongue as Sebastian claims the deepest parts of me.
With a grunt, he goes still, embracing me in his love, and we barrel through the explosion together.
It’s the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced—so powerful it rips my world in two. Afterward, breaths mingle in the air, limbs slacken, and Tatum backs away from the annihilation he helped create.
That’s when the inevitable grips me.
Shame.
I scramble off the bed and fold my arms around myself, but a lump of mortification aches in my throat, making it impossible to swallow. Hot, salty tears drip down my cheeks.
Movement sounds behind me—the shift of the mattress, followed by light footsteps on the floor. A hand lands on my shoulder, and instinctively, I know it belongs to Sebastian.
“You’re sleeping with me tonight,” he says, his even tone giving nothing away.
I risk a glance at Tatum, who nods his agreement. “That was the deal we made this morning.”
Beyond confused and disoriented, I hesitate, but above all else, I’m reeling. Another hot tear bleeds from my lashes, and Sebastian sighs.
“Wait for me in my room. I’ll grab our clothes from the patio.”
I scurry from Tatum’s bedroom and make my way into Sebastian’s. The instant the door shuts behind me, hysteria sends me to the floor. I’m stone cold sober now, and horrified at how easily I gave in to Tatum.
In front of Sebastian.
How could I have done that to him? What if the roles had been reversed? What if I’d had to watch him with Lilith? My imagination runs a disturbing marathon, and I visualize her ruby-painted lips sliding down his cock. His phantom moan of pleasure tears through my mind, torturing me until I slap both hands over my ears.
I’m exhausted and nauseous, and I’m not sure when he returned to the bedroom, but it isn’t until he’s lifting me off the floor and carrying me to bed that the rising sickness subsides.
Tugging me against his chest, he pulls the blanket over our naked bodies, and I snuggle into him. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“Shhh.” His embrace tightens around me. “You’re in my arms where you belong. Nothing to forgive.” His even tone hides the hurt, but I hear it anyway.
“I’m so…so sorry.”
“Don’t,” he warns. “What’s done is done. I know your heart, Novalee. I might get angry and jealous, but I’ll never doubt the way you love me.”
“I don’t know how it happened.” I hiccup on a sob. “He was only supposed to watch.”
“Tatum is a master manipulator. We were raised to get our way—every one of us, baby.”
“But I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I know that, just like I know you wanted his mouth on you—not because you’re in love with him, but because it felt good.”
“It felt good, but it didn’t feel right.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“I don’t know.”
He threads a hand through my hair, sifting through the strands from root to tip. “Do you regret it?”
“Yes.” The answer comes as naturally as breathing.
“Why? I want you to really think about your answer before you give it.”
I draw the guilt closer for examination, studying its existence from all sides.
