On our sides next, spooned together with my arm around her waist, holding her close as I thrust from behind. The angle is intimate, my cock sliding deep with each roll of my hips, hitting her in a way that makes her gasp and push back against me, her ass pressing into my groin.
I kiss the nape of her neck, tasting the salt there, my free hand sliding down to circle her clit. Slow flicks with my fingers that make her body shake with pleasure. Our bodies are slick with sweat now, and her soft cries grow louder.
I shift her once more and get behind her with both of us on our knees. Her hands brace on the headboard as I drive forward from behind, my hands on her breasts—squeezing the full mounds, pinching her nipples between my fingers until she cries out with neediness.
The position lets me go harder, deeper, my cock pounding into her with forceful thrusts, the slap of my hips against her ass echoing loudly in the room. Her moans turn to screams, high and broken, as I reach around to rub her clit faster, her body shuddering under me. This is it. Just us, just gasps and grunts, my hardness filling her completely, and stretching her with every slam.
Her cries mingle with my groans, and the bed creaks under us like a rhythmic symphony that's getting louder, more frantic. I feel her shatter around me first, her walls pulsing tight around my cock, squeezing in powerful waves that milk my cock until I follow, spilling into her with a shudder that leaves me boneless and gasping. Hot jets flood her as I continue to thrust into her. Again and again. My hands roam her body, slapping her ass to elicit tighter clenches around me.
Her eyes meet mine in the moonlight, wide, raw, and vulnerable as her body shatters around me in pulsing waves that grip my cock like a vice. My own release crashes hard, and I spill inside her with a roar of satisfaction. The shared wave of ecstasy leaves us gasping, clinging to each other, our bodies slick and entwined, our hearts pounding in unison.
We come so many times—over and over. Each release building on the last until we come one last time, locked together face to face on our sides.
Only then do we finally fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted beyond words. My body wrapped protectively around hers, her head nestled on my chest.
The world outside doesn’t exist.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
JULIET
Iam in his arms, cocooned in his warmth.
I cannot believe we're asleep, tangled together like this, the four-poster bed cradling us in its vast expanse. The moonlight faded hours ago, replaced by the soft predawn gray filtering through the curtains. I'm wide awake now, my body heavy and sated from the marathon of passion that left every muscle in my body aching in the best way. His arm is draped possessively around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. His breath is steady and warm against my neck, a rhythmic whisper that stirs the fine hairs, sending tiny shivers down my spine.
I’d expected him to untangle himself and slip back to his own suite down the hall, and maintain the distance we've—they've—always kept. But instead, he tightened his hold in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. I don't know how to feel about it. Part of me is in a panic and wants to bolt, to put walls up before this gets any deeper. But another part, a much stronger part, craves the security of his embrace and wants to melt into him. He makes the world feel better, safer.
In fact, it's so good I could cry. This closeness, this stolen intimacy wrapping tightly around my heart like vines, feels too real. His warmth seeps into me, solid and enveloping, his bare chest pressed to my back. Skin on skin. His strength is everywhere—the corded muscles of his arm pinning me gently but firmly, his thigh slung over mine, heavy and unyielding.
A possessiveness that thrills and terrifies me in equal measure.
He holds me like I belong to him—body, soul, and mind—his fingers splayed across my stomach, claiming me as his territory with unconscious ease. His heartbeat is a steady drum against my spine, lulling me despite the storm inside.
But the fact that this is all a lie crushes me in a way I can't explain. A deep, aching sorrow blooms in my chest, and makes hot tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I know that these moments are borrowed—I'm not his, not really. I’m just a stand-in wearing another's name and life. When the clock runs out, all this will shatter like glass. I don’t understand why it feels so right, so inevitable, when it's built on lies? I blink back the tears and swallow hard. My throat is tight as I fight the urge to wake him and let him tell me more sweet lies.
I force my eyes to close against the growing light, and nestle deeper into his hold. I memorize his scent, inhaling deeply, letting it fill my lungs like a drug I can't quit, committing it to memory for the days when this fantasy ends. I listen to his heartbeat, strong and even. Thump-thump against my back. A soothing rhythm compared to my own frantic pulse.
Slowly, I feel myself drifting away. I’ll join him in dreamland.
A phone call wakes me up, the shrill ring cutting through the haze of sleep like a knife, jolting me upright in bed. My heart slams against my ribs as I fumble around on the nightstand. My body is still disoriented and heavy with the languor of deep rest as I reach for the phone. But when I see the number flashing on the screen, I panic and almost jump out of bed. It’s the real Carolyn! My pulse skyrockets, and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin as guilt crashes over me. I feel suddenly vulnerable, like I've let my guard down too far.
I glance behind me and see that the bed is empty. Only the indentation where Blake slept tells me last night was not a fantastic dream. He must have slipped out quietly while I slept. The sun is shining bright, streaming through the cracks in the curtains with cheerful insistence. It's Sunday, and quite late in the morning from the angle of the light, probably past 10.
Nervously, I stare at the screen as it vibrates in my hand, nerves twisting in my gut, and wonder why she is calling. So far, she hasn’t even called to check on me, or ask if everything is going well. No updates, no questions about the family or the routine. Just radio silence that's surprising in its completeness. It's almost as though she doesn't care. Like she's washed her hands of this life entirely. But she hired me for this elaborate swap, poured good money into it, and wasted her precious time training me, so there is absolutely no way she has walked away. The detachment must have been to let me find my feet. She’s only calling now because I left her an urgent message to call me back about Freya’s sleepover.
I swipe the screen and bring the phone to my ear. "Hello?" My voice comes out hoarse, still thick with sleep.
Carolyn's voice is cool and composed on the other end, a stark contrast to my turmoil. "Hello. I came by the house during the night to get something I had forgotten to take and saw you naked and curled up in the sweetest way in bed with my husband."
My blood runs cold, the words hitting like ice water. I freeze and clutch the sheet to my chest as if she can see me now. “I… I…”
“You’ve broken the terms of our contract, and I could throw you out on your ear right now.”
I gulp speechlessly.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” she demands.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What should I do? What can I say? “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was an accident. It just happened. It won’t happen again.” The words pour out of me, but they are lies. I’m not sorry. It was not an accident. And if I continue to stay here, itwillhappen again.
