“I thought you had the girls?” she asked, glancing over at his house. “Did Eliana come back?”
“No,” Jesse grunted, bristling at the unsolicited concern and annoyed at the mention of the wife that had driven him to this point. “The girls are in bed. They’retwelve, not five.”
Bea’s brows lowered at his tone, her gaze narrowing. “I know they’re not babies, Jesse.”
“Then stop trying to parentmykids,” he snapped,pulling his jacket tighter around his frame. He stepped back a pace, wondering what he was doing—how he’d gotten himself into this position. Pining for his wife and unable to have her. Reduced to begging for scraps from another.
He was no beggar.
A flash of something wild flared in Bea’s eyes as she watched the indecision play across his face. She followed his movement, stepping out onto the porch after him. She was unprepared, with no jacket to block the cold, her silky tank rippling in the wind. Jesse stepped forward naturally to provide a barrier from the elements, until there was only an inch separating their bodies.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “That wasn’t my intention.”
Jesse didn’t bother to respond with words, not when she stared up at him with so much heat and apology in her dark eyes. What he would give to have Eliana look at him that way. To have that same wild look in her eyes—that desperation he felt, and which he craved.
He thought back to the last time they’d been intimate, and for the briefest moment, Bea’s dark irises were replaced with Eliana’s gentle green. Without hesitation, Jesse lunged, shutting his eyes tight as he locked the memory into place. He groaned at the contact of his lips as they found hers.
But . . . the lips were wrong. The height was wrong. Hell, even the smell was wrong.
He could pretend.
Just for one more night.
One last weekend.
Nobody would ever know.
He was so caught up in the moment, so absorbed in the excitement of what was to come and the storm of emotion he found himself unqualified to handle—Jesse never thought to consider the lone birdhouse secured in ashadowed corner of his porch, the dark hole quietly watching down the long nose of its perch.
And directly beneath the birdhouse, the gentle flutter of curtains was lost to the violence of the wind outside, falling quietly back into place—just as Bea reached forward and pulled Jesse inside.
20
TOGETHER
Rage rooms should be a mandatory part of therapy.
So the cheatee becomes the cheater? Emma is still married.
It’s past time for Emma to cut some dead weight.
Mitch and Emma are SO good together. At the very least, can we get some rebound action?
“So I talked it through with my lawyer, and I have some important things to share, but before we get into it, you’re not going to believe where Bea went yesterday.”
“Oh, I bet I can guess,” Eliana answered as she scrolled through her texts, a smirk on her lips.
After leaving the rage room the previous Friday, they hadn’t even made it back to the hotelbefore she’d begun receiving notifications from the backyard camera.
She’d pulled the feed up immediately and watched as Jesse snuck out, so careful to shut the door quietly behind him. His head twisted as he crossed the yard, searching for witnesses before he knocked on Bea’s door.
Eliana watched the exchange, too distant to hear over the roar of the winds. And then she watched as Jesse leaned forward, pulling Bea into a passionate kiss. Eliana forced herself to watch it in its entirety, live, her eyes glued to the screen—not looking away until several seconds after they’d disappeared inside Milo’s home.
When she’d glanced up, she’d been shocked to find their car was parked outside the hotel. Milo’s eyes lingered on her phone as well, sitting dark and silent on her lap.
“Well.” Eliana had sniffed. “They took the bait.”
The corner of Milo’s lips lifted in a halfhearted attempt at a smile before he tore his gaze away with a snort. “Didn’t take much, did it? Just a wink and an opportunity.” He sighed. “Now I’m going to have to burnmymattress.”
