Or . . .
When my hand dropped to Jacob’s stomach, my nails scrolling soft circles across the hard planes, I didn’t miss the way he stirred in his sleep. The way a certain prominent, rather wonderful part of his body stirred.
Suddenly, I felt very much awake.
Not hesitating, I swung my leg over Jacob’s lap, lining up our bodies until I felt his hardness pressing into me. As I lowered down over him, I bit my lip. I was a bit sore from all of our earlier exploits. It had been a while since Jacob and I had had sex back-to-back (to-back), and I was probably imagining it, but it seriously seemed like his dick had magically gotten bigger. At least it certainly felt like that, because, yeah, I hadn’t been this sore since I’d lost my virginity to him back in high school.
When I was fully seated on his lap, I stayed still for a moment, giving myself a chance to adjust to his size. From his pillow, a lazy smile was moving into place as his even breaths indicated he was still asleep.
My hands molded into his chest as I moved over him. His skin was warm and smooth to the touch, but I loved how solid he felt below that warm, smooth surface. How firm and resilient and unmoving he seemed.
It wouldn’t take me long—I’d discovered that earlier when Jacob had made that his mission—but this wasn’t about me. This was about him. Taking care of him and putting him first, what marriage was all about. God knew he’d been proving that to me ever since we’d exchanged our vows.
The smallest of moans slipped out of me, but it might as well have been a scream from the way he jolted awake. Leaning up in bed, blinking awake, it took him a few seconds to catch up to what was happening. Once he took me in, naked and moving above him, his head fell back as every muscle in his body seemed to go rigid.
A sound rumbled deep in his chest—the kind of primal echo that made me have to slow my pace so I didn’t come right then.
“I was having this exact dream,” he gritted out, one hand finding the perch of my hip and holding on.
Hearing that made me smile. “How does the real version compare to the dream one?” To sway his answer, I circled my hips a couple of times, drawing another one of those primal sounds from him.
“The dream was a fucking joke compared to this.” His head fell back into his pillow when my nails dug into his chest. “That’s how they compare.”
My smile spread. “Good to know. Plus, with dreams, right when you’re about to get to the really good part, you wake up.” I could tell he was close. From the way the muscles in his neck were pushing against his skin, to the way his pupils were wide, his eyes excited—he wouldn’t last much longer.
“The best part of anything is being with you.” His jaw set as my own orgasm tore through my body. “The best part is you.”
It was his words. It was his body. It was the way his eyes held mine and matched the words coming from his mouth. I was trying to hold back, to wait until I’d given him his, but it was futile when he touched me the way he was, looking at me like I was every answer to every question.
The moment I cried out, his release thundered to the surface. His hands braced against me like mine were against him, holding on to each other as though we were the only thing keeping each other tethered to this world.
When we finished, he gathered my body against him, both of our chests coated with sweat, our lungs laboring. He held me like that until I could just make out the first ribbons of light breaking through the dark sky. It was a new day. A new life.
As his fingers combed through my tangled mess of hair, his head turned toward mine to watch the sky lighten and the new day unfold. “Cora?” My body lowered as he let out a long exhale. His fingers stopped moving through my hair. “I need to tell you something.”
My throat bobbed, knowing from his tone that this was something significant. I had a few ideas what my new husband might want to confess to me, but not yet. I didn’t want to break the spell we’d managed to cast temporarily. I wanted honesty and openness from my husband. Maybe just not right after the single best night we’d ever shared together. Especially not the kind of honest I guessed Jacob had in mind to tell me.
“Not right now,” I whispered, closing my eyes. The new day could wait. “Let’s not ruin it. Not yet.”
Another exhale, this one longer than before. His arms formed like vises around my spent body, but this hold was different. This was the hold of a man who was desperately clinging to something he knew would be ripped from his arms no matter how hard he held on.
“Whatever you want.” His lips skimmed along my temple as he inhaled. “Whatever you need.”
Holy fuck.
That was the first thing that burst into my head as I woke up later that morning. I’d just slept with my brother’s girl. Repeatedly.
It wasn’t just Jacob I’d betrayed though. It was Cora too. My betrayal toward her was the worst because she trusted me and yesterday . . . last night . . . she’d shared things with me, she’d shared her body with me, thinking I was Jacob. All of these years, I’d despised my brother for not realizing what a great thing he had in her, and here I’d just pretended to be him and slept with her.
It was official. I was going to hell. Every kind that had been invented and every one that existed. But who was I kidding? I’d been in hell for years. If this was what hell felt like, I was never packing my bags and leaving.
But I knew that when I told her, she’d hate me. She’d never look at me or speak to me again. Accepting that made me content to delay the inevitable, if only for five more minutes. Especially with the way she was holding onto my arm, cradling it to her chest like a child would cling to a stuffed bear for comfort.
As I lay there pretending like this moment wasn’t coming to an imminent, disastrous end, I wondered what was going on back home. Had Jacob resurfaced? If so, had he put the pieces together yet? If he had, he’d be on the next plane he could catch to get here to kick my ass. Before that happened, I needed to tell her. I guessed it would go over marginally better than the man she thought she’d married showing up with murder in his eyes and a bare ring finger.
I needed to check my phone, to see how many missed calls and texts I’d gotten so I knew what was coming and how much longer I had. Trying to shimmy and slide out from Cora’s embrace without waking her took about fifty different maneuvers, but it worked. She never even stirred as I crawled out of the bed where I’d realized the majority of every fantasy I’d dared to dream. That was where they’d have to stay though.
My phone was still tucked into the back pocket of my pants, which had been torn off somewhere in the middle of the room and had gotten kicked into . . .