Chapter 25
Rhea
Dean's heartbeat drums a steady rhythm beneath my ear as I curl tighter against his chest, my fingers absently tracing the soft cotton of his shirt. The steady rise and fall of his breathing should soothe me, but each exhale only winds the knot of guilt tighter in my stomach. Professor Shaw's voice echoes in my head— tell me what you’d do for me, Rhea —making me squeeze my eyes shut against the memory of being bent over his desk.
"I've missed this," Dean sighs into my hair, his palm sliding warm circles across my back. "Missed having you close."
A lump grows in my throat at the tenderness. Here he is, being so gentle with me, clueless to the fact that I've betrayed him so completely. The ghost of the professor's fingers in my hair mingles with the reality of Dean's touch until I can barely breathe through the shame. I press my face harder into his chest, hoping he won't notice more tears threatening to spill.
“I’ve missed you too,” I breathe, grateful that the words don’t crack around the sob fighting to burst from my lips.
"My beautiful girl. Never disappear on me like that again."
The guilt surges upwards like bile, choking me into silence. His absolute trust, his unwavering affection—I don't deserve any of it. Not after I knelt so willingly in that office, after I begged for release from hands that weren't his or Ethan's. The memory of Professor Shaw's rough touch makes me shiver, and Dean pulls me closer, misreading my trembling as a need for warmth.
"Dean..." My voice wavers as I force myself to lift my head. "I need to tell you something."
His arms tighten around me, but the glistening blue of his eyes as they find mine is patient and open. Ready to hear anything. The same eyes that watched me take his initial with such pride, such possession. What would I see in them now, if I confessed how thoroughly I've violated that trust?
The words die in my throat as I stare up at him, memorizing the slight curve of his lips, the faint stubble along his jaw. How many more times will I get to see him look at me like this, once he knows what I've done? Once he knows I spread my legs for my professor like the slut they both trained me to be for them and them alone?
"What is it, babygirl?" His thumb brushes my cheek, and I realize I'm chewing on my lip to the point of pain.
"I..." The confession hovers on my tongue, threatening to shatter everything. But my courage crumbles beneath the weight of what I've done. "I'm sorry for ghosting. I’ve just been swamped lately. I didn’t mean to disappoint you."
It's not a lie. The thought of Dean turning away from me, of losing both him and Ethan, makes my chest cave in. But it's not the whole truth either. Not when I can still feel the edge of Professor Shaw's desk digging into my thighs, still taste him on my tongue.
"Hey." He tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze again. "You couldn’t disappoint me. Not ever. That’s just something we say because we know you love a punishment. When you need to slow down and prioritize yourself, we support that completely. I mean, hell, we’re the assholes for not suggesting it ourselves. We’re just too addicted to you."
His lips brush my forehead, so achingly sweet that fresh tears spring to my eyes. I squeeze them shut, focusing on the solid warmth of him beneath me, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with faint cigarette smoke. Anything to ground me in this moment, to keep from picturing another man’s kiss.
"Promise?" The question slips out small and broken, even though I have no right to ask for promises. Not when I've already broken every unspoken vow between us.
"Promise." His mouth finds my temple, then the curve of my cheek. Each kiss feels like forgiveness I haven't earned. "Whatever needs to change for this to all work out, we'll figure it out together."
I nod against his chest, not trusting my voice. His hands resume their soothing patterns across my back, trying to ease tension he can't possibly understand. I should tell him now. I should confess how I moaned for another man, how I came apart under someone else's command. He deserves that much.
Instead, I press closer, soaking in his warmth while I still can.
"I've got you," Dean whispers, and for just a moment, I let myself believe it's true. Let myself pretend I haven't ruined the most precious thing I've ever had.
A soft knock at the door makes me flinch against Dean's chest. My heart rate doubles—I know it's Ethan without having to look. The twin who can see right through me, read my mind without me having to say a word. And now I have to lie to him too.
Dean's warmth disappears as he untangles himself from our embrace, mumbling that he’ll open it. The loss of contact leaves me cold, though the temperature hasn't changed. I wrap my arms around myself, though it does little to stop me feeling like I’m falling apart.
The moment Ethan steps inside, I find myself struggling to breathe again. I catch the meaningful look that passes between the brothers, some silent communication about my state of mind, no doubt. My skin prickles under their shared scrutiny.
I can't bring myself to meet Ethan's piercing gaze. Those ice-blue eyes see too much, strip away every defense until I'm raw and exposed. He'll know I’m hiding something the instant he really looks at me. He always does.
My fingers are numb as I pick at loose threads in my sleeves, my bowl of soup now cold and forgotten on the coffee table.
"You look exhausted, little one."
Ethan's quiet observation cuts through my spiral of self-loathing. His tone holds none of its usual stoney edge, just genuine concern that makes my lower lip tremble. I pull it between my teeth as I manage a weak nod.
"I think I should…can we just...go to bed?" I’m desperate to avoid a conversation with Ethan. He’d have the truth from me in minutes. And then it would all be over.
Dean moves toward me, and I steel myself for his kiss. His lips part mine with such earnest affection that I almost break right there. Almost confess everything. But then he pulls back, that trusting smile still playing at the corners of his mouth, and I know I can't destroy this. Not yet.
"Get some rest, babygirl." His fingers trace my cheek one last time. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
It sounds like a question rather than a statement. His uncertainty telling me he's still worried I might disappear again. I force myself to nod, though I have no idea if I'll have the strength to face him tomorrow. To face either of them, until I can admit to what I've done.
Dean exchanges another loaded look with his brother before heading for the door. The soft click as it closes behind him sounds like a death knell. I'm alone with Ethan now… Ethan who reads me like an open book, who probably already suspects something is terribly wrong.
He doesn't move to touch me, doesn't try to close the distance I've put between us. He just watches, those knowing eyes taking in every detail of my defeated posture.
I want to run to him. I want to feel his strong arms around me, holding me together while I break apart. But I don't deserve his comfort any more than I deserved Dean's.
"Bed?" he prompts quietly when I make no move to head toward my room.
I nod again, grateful that he's not pushing for explanations. Not yet, anyway. Ethan has always known when to let silence do the work of words. It's one of the things I love most about him.
Love . The thought is a battering ram to the stomach. A blunt reminder of everything I’ve destroyed in one moment of pathetic weakness.
My legs feel like lead as I force myself to move toward the bedroom. Each step takes me closer to what might be our last night together. Ethan follows a few paces behind, his presence both comforting and crushing. I can feel his eyes on my back, reading stories in the tension of my shoulders. But tonight, I'm selfishly grateful that he's choosing not to voice whatever conclusions he's drawing.
Tonight, I just need him close. Need to pretend for a few more hours that I can keep them both.
He stands sentinel by the bedroom door while I peel off my sweatshirt. The cotton shorts and oversized t-shirt underneath feel like flimsy armor against the weight of his gaze. Even facing away from him, I can sense him cataloging every detail. I’m almost certain I’m putting on a laughable act, though I’m not sure how much more convincing I can be that everything is fine.
"You’re staying, right?" I mumble, wrapping my arms around myself as I finally muster the courage to look at him.
“If you want me to.”
I nod my head vigorously, trying to erase the past week of keeping him at arm’s length. I stayed away because I couldn’t face him. Either of them. But now that they’ve come to me anyway, I can’t force myself to let go.
Without another word, Ethan shrugs off his leather jacket, letting it fall over my desk chair. His boots follow, placed precisely beside the door. Each item stripped away feels like a gift I shouldn’t have dared asked for—this closed-off man making himself vulnerable just because I asked.
The mattress dips as he slides in behind me, strong arms wrapping around my waist like he knows just how close I need him right now. I press back against his chest, trying to memorize how perfectly we fit together. The way his breath stirs my hair. The gentle strength in hands that could so easily hurt me but never would unless I begged for it.
Tears slip silently down my cheeks before I can stop them. I try to wipe them away discretely, but nothing escapes Ethan's notice. His thumb brushes along my jaw, catching the moisture there. He doesn't ask why I'm crying. Doesn't demand explanations I'm not ready to give. He just holds me closer, one hand splayed protectively across my stomach while the other continues its gentle mission of drying my tears.
"Sleep, little one," he murmurs against my hair.
I want to turn and face him. I want to confess everything and beg forgiveness. I want to explain how losing him and Dean would destroy me completely. But the words stick in my throat, trapped behind fear and shame.
So, I keep my mouth shut, focusing on the solid warmth of him wrapped around me. His breathing stays steady and deep, though I know he's still awake. Still watching over me, even when I've given him every reason to doubt.
The tears eventually slow as exhaustion takes over. Each blink gets heavier as I fight to stay awake just a little longer. To savor what might be our last peaceful moment together.
Ethan's thumb brushes my hip in small circles, the rhythm hypnotic. Despite everything, I feel safe here. Protected. Cherished in a way I never dreamed possible before the twins crashed into my life.
And I've ruined it all.