Lips of an Angel (Cheating #1)

Chapter 1

ETHAN

It’s funny how you can be sitting right next to someone and still feel a million miles apart.

My wife, the woman I vowed to love and cherish ‘til death do we part, is curled up on the couch next to me, my arm draped around her shoulder and her head resting on my chest. And yet, she might as well be in another room, another house. We’ve barely said two words to each other since I walked in the door and even though we occasionally laugh at the same jokes or gasp at the same supposedly shocking moments, it barely feels like we’re watching the show together.

I’m considering just calling it a fucking night and heading up to bed when my pocket begins to vibrate.

Sloane sits up with an annoyed little huff, her heavy breasts swaying beneath my way-too-big-for-her t-shirt as she shifts positions.

Ignoring her passive-aggressive sounds, I pull my phone free and frown down at the display.

I don’t recognize the number, despite it being local.

It’s probably spam, but whatever. At least it will give me an excuse to step away for a few minutes.

“Gotta take this.”

Another annoyed sound and a roll of my wife’s eyes. “Whatever.”

My palm physically itches to spank some respect into her perfect, round ass. But as we discovered far too late, while Sloane enjoys some occasional pain play, she’s not at all the submissive type.

Unfortunately for us, and our marriage.

Shoving the decade-old disappointment aside, I hit the button to answer the call and head for the kitchen. “Hello?”

My greeting is met with silence, followed by a shaky breath and a soft voice I haven’t heard in over ten years outside of my dreams. “Daddy?”

And just like that, I’m twenty-five again, with my sweet babygirl sniffling and whimpering in my arms after a thorough spanking. Gripping the edge of the counter to prevent myself from falling to my suddenly weak knees, I swallow hard. “Mia? What’s wrong, angel?”

Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me? My wife is in the next room, and here I am calling another woman “angel”.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mia’s words are rushed, an edge of breathless panic to them that cuts through my self-loathing and jerks my attention back to the voice on the phone. “I know I shouldn’t have called but I didn’t know who else to ask and—I’m sorry, I’m stupid, I should go.”

“Little girl, don’t you dare hang up that phone,” I growl, my own panic sitting heavy in my chest. “Slow down and tell Da—tell me what’s going on.”

“I need help.” Her voice trembles, the way I remember it used to when she was scared or upset. “I need… I need to get out.”

Without even thinking, I turn and head for the door. “Text me your address, baby. I’m on my way.”

A soft sob comes through the speaker. “I will. Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize and don’t move. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Closing my eyes, I drop my head against the cool wood of our front door. There have been times over the past decade where I would have given anything to hear those words again.

Hearing them from a woman I can’t have, while the woman I vowed to love and be faithful to for the rest of my life sits just a few feet away, is the cruelest twist of fate I can imagine.

But Mia needs me. So I tell her again to sit tight, that I’m on my way, and end the call. Grabbing my keys, I poke my head back in the living room. “I have to go.”

Sloane barely glances up from the tv. “Okay.”

I hesitate, torn between my wife and my babygirl. “I, ah, might have company when I get back.”

That gets her attention. Frowning now, she pauses the show and looks up. “Who?”

“Mia.”

The furrow between her brows deepens. “Mia, as in your ex-girlfriend, Mia?”

“Yeah. Apparently she’s in some kind of trouble.”

Sloane rolls her eyes. “So of course she called her Daddy.”

Ugh. Sometimes I regret ever telling Sloane about the nature of my relationship with Mia.

There was a time when she’d tried so hard to be what I needed, but the effort only left us both frustrated.

Having my desires thrown in my face when I’m already feeling like an asshole is the absolute last thing I need.

“I’m not doing this with you, Sloane. I’ll be home when I can.”

Without waiting for a response, I turn and head for the door.

For my babygirl.

Mia

He’s coming. Daddy’s coming to rescue me.

No. Not your Daddy anymore, remember?

Closing my eyes, I swallow hard against the tightness in my throat. Ethan Hale hasn’t been my Daddy in well over a decade. Not since the night I walked away from him.

Away from us.

But none of that matters now. Regardless of what I call him, he’s on his way to rescue me from this nightmare I’ve found myself in.

Shoving the last of my clothes in a small duffel, I zip the bag closed and haul it up onto my shoulder. Heart pounding, I hurry down the stairs, peeking through the blinds. Sickness rises in my throat, but I ruthlessly swallow it down.

There’s no reason to think Carl might return home early. Friday nights are for the boys, as I’ve been told so many times before. But I can’t help but worry he’ll know somehow that I’m planning to run.

And if he catches me before I can escape, I don’t know what he’ll do. Only that I’ll be wearing the bruises from whatever punishment he deems fitting for the next week.

The wait is agony, and every sound makes me jump clean out of my skin.

Every car passing fills me with dread, my heart hammering so hard I can hardly hear myself think.

More than once I find myself holding my breath whenever a red car passes in front of my window until I realize it isn’t Carl coming home early.

Then, at last, a giant black truck rumbles to a stop in front of the house. And the edges of my vision go gray with knee-weakening relief as I watch Ethan jog up the driveway.

Gripping my duffle so tightly my knuckles turn white, I hurry for the front door, wrenching it open before he can ring the bell.

God, he looks even better than I remember. Tall, so tall I have to tilt my head back to meet his dark gaze, and broad with it. Ten years’ worth of age has only made him hotter, more rugged and dangerous looking.

More… Daddy.

Fuck my life.

As I stand there in stunned silence, Ethan glances down at the bag in my hand and frowns. “Is that all you’re bringing?”

“Yes.”

His frown deepens and a familiar tingle runs up my spine. I remember that look well. It’s the look that says he’s not at all happy with my decisions. “Where is he?”

Fleetingly, I wonder if I should be annoyed that he automatically assumes my troubles are because of a man. But since he’s right, it feels petty to argue about it. “Gone.”

Ethan grunts. “Too bad. I’m in the mood for a fight.”

Because I don’t trust him to stick around just to get that fight he’s spoiling for, I step out onto the front porch, pulling the door shut behind me. “Thank you for coming. I… I didn’t know who else to call.”

He studies me with those unreadable eyes a moment longer before he nods once, slowly. “Let’s get you in the truck.”

Leaning down, he plucks the bag from my nerveless fingers and takes my hand in his. There’s nothing romantic or sexual about the gesture, simply a Daddy taking care of his babygirl.

And it breaks my heart.

Blinking back the tears burning at the backs of my eyes, I let him lead me to the truck. And just like he always did, he opens the door for me and lifts me up as if I weigh nothing to perch me on the seat. The familiarity of it is both comforting and agonizing, a reminder of what I threw away.

Of what I will never have again.

Ethan buckles my seatbelt for me, another of those little habits that make me ache for what I lost. Does he care for his wife this way? What will she think of me calling her Daddy to come rescue me?

Those questions and more stick in my throat as he closes the truck door and jogs back to the driver’s side to climb in. The giant truck roars to life and we pull away from the curb toward freedom.

“All right, angel. We need to talk.”

To my horror, arousal pools between my thighs. There was a time when those words in that tone would have almost certainly been the lead up to me going over Daddy’s knee for a hard spanking that left me a sore, sobbing mess in its wake.

Apparently my body remembers that tone all too well.

Pressing my thighs together, I have to fight the urge to squirm. “Um. Okay.”

Ethan glances over, another of those familiar frowns tugging at his mouth. But he doesn’t correct me, because he’s not actually my Daddy anymore so there’s nothing he can say about my response.

“I suppose we should start with the obvious,” he says as he effortlessly guides his truck through the traffic on the interstate. “Why did you call me? And I want the whole truth, little girl.”

More of that shameful arousal pulses between my thighs at his growled warning. “I told you. I needed to get out.”

“Mia. I said the whole truth.”

“That is the whole truth,” I mumble, crossing my arms as I slide down in my seat, a move I know he hates.

And sure enough, Ethan sends a sharp look my direction. “Sit up straight, little girl, and tell me what’s going on before I pull this truck over and spank the truth out of you.”

The threat sends my heart racing and I’m debating the wisdom of testing it when he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Fuck, Mia, I’m sorry. I don’t have the right… I’m sorry.”

You have the right. You’ve always had the right. “No, I’m sorry. I’m being a brat after you came to rescue me in the middle of the night. Maybe you should spank me.”

I meant it as a joke, but judging by the way Ethan’s hand flexes on the steering wheel, it doesn’t really land the way I’d hoped. “You know I can’t do that, Mia. I’m married.”

Married. The word slams into my gut and it’s all I can do to keep the meager contents of my dinner down. “Right. Sorry. Um, how’s Sloane?”

“We can talk about Sloane later. You still haven’t answered my question.”