The car’s dim interior lights catch the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the corded muscles of his forearm as he works, and I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper, my pulse hammering between my legs.
God, the way he’s looking at me—like he’s one second away from devouring me whole—makes me want to beg. Toprovokehim. To see just how far I can push him before he snaps.
He grips my hips, pulling me down as he pushes into me hard, filling me completely. A moan tears from my throat, my head falling back as pleasure ripples through me. His hands are everywhere—my waist, my breasts, tangling in my hair—like he can't get enough.
"Look at me," he demands, his voice strained.
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity there steals my breath. He's watching me like I'm the only thing that matters, like he's memorizing every second.
"God, I love you so much," he mutters, his voice raw.
The words hit me like a physical force. My vision blurs, my chest tightening. I should stop this. I should push him away and run. But there's no way now…
Because the truth is crushing me from the inside, a weight I can't carry anymore. Because every fiber of my being is screaming what I've been trying to deny for weeks now.
Because despite everything—my marriage, my family, the life I've built—I'm completely, utterly, desperately in love with him too. The realization hits me like a tidal wave, washing away every last defence I had left.
His grip tightens, his forehead pressing to mine as he moves deeper. "Say you love me too."
"I… I love you," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "I fucking love you."
His mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing my words as our bodies move together, desperate and wild. The car windows fog around us, the world outside ceasing to exist. There's only this—only him, only the way he makes me feel alive in a way I've never been before.
And for the first time, I don't care about the consequences. I don't care about anything but this moment, this man, this love that's consuming me whole.
The usual sounds of the afternoon regulars fill the pool hall as I mechanically wipe down the bar counter. My body's here, but my mind is miles away—replaying last night in Caine's car over and over like a movie I can't turn off.
I've become the woman I always judged. The cheater. The liar. The one who says "I love you" to one man while married to another.
"This isn't me," I whisper to myself, scrubbing harder at an imaginary spot. But isn't it? If it weren’t me, I wouldn't have done it. Wouldn't have meant those three words when I said them.
The truth hurts worse than the guilt: my marriage has been broken for a long time. Even before Caine walked through those doors. Reeves and I have been circling each other like tired boxers for years, too exhausted to land any meaningful blows, too stubborn to leave the ring.
"Holy shit, who died?" Liza's voice cuts through my thoughts as she drops her purse under the bar. She studies my face, her expression shifting from playful to concerned. "Jenna, what happened?"
My eyes burn with unshed tears. "I slept with him again.”
She doesn't say a single word.
"And I told him I love him," I add, my voice barely audible.
"Shit," she breathes, pulling me into a tight hug. Her familiar scent of vanilla wraps around me. "Do you? Love him?"
I nod against her shoulder. "That's the worst part. I do."
She pulls back, hands on my shoulders. "Then maybe this isn't the tragedy you think it is. Maybe it's a wake-up call."
"I'm married, Liza. I have a son."
"And that matters—a lot. But staying in a marriage that's making you miserable isn't doing Liam any favors." She squeezes my shoulders. "Kids know when their parents are unhappy. They feel it."
"So I just blow up our family because I fell for someone else?"
"No." Her eyes soften. "You make the hard choice to be honest. Tell Reeves everything. Maybe it ends things, maybe not—but secrets poison everything they touch. And sweetie, you deserve better than drowning in guilt for the rest of your life."
I wipe my eyes. "What if I lose everything?"
"What if you find yourself?" She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Sometimes the brave thing and the right thing are the same."
