Chapter 16
16
LILY
I can’t sleep.
My skin feels too tight, as if it’s containing something ready to burst. The sheets tangle around my legs as I toss and turn, my body refusing to cool down despite the cold air seeping through the cabin windows. It’s 2 a.m., according to the glowing clock on the nightstand, and I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Hunter and Archer’s faces inches from mine, feel the ghost of their lips against mine, hands on my waist. Then the image shifts, and it’s James’s dark, possessive stare as he watches me kiss another man.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter, kicking off the covers. “What is wrong with me?”
I pad across to the window and wrestle it open, immediately regretting the decision as icy wind and snow blast into my face. The storm hasn’t let up at all; if anything, it’s intensified. The trees beyond the glass bend and sway like dancers caught in some frenzied ritual, snow swirling in hypnotic patterns.
I battle against the wind to close the window again, finally managing to slam it shut. I lean my forehead against the frigid glass, hoping it will cool my burning skin.
“Why am I so hot?” I whisper to the empty room. It’s like my internal thermostat is broken. This has to be more than just the lingering effects of Hunter’s kiss or the alcohol from earlier. It’s like something inside me is awakening, something primal and hungry I’m not sure I can control.
Not heat. I refuse to consider that possibility. I’m on suppressants until I find the right Alpha. So, it’s impossible.
My stomach growls, giving me a perfect excuse to leave the confinement of my room. Food. That’s what I need—something cold from the fridge to cool me down and satisfy the gnawing emptiness inside.
Pulling on an oversized sweater over my sleep shorts and tank top, I quietly open my door. The hallway is dark and silent, everyone presumably asleep after our eventful evening. I tiptoe down the stairs, wincing at every creak of the wooden steps.
The living room is cast in deep shadows, the dying embers in the fireplace providing just enough light to make out shapes but not details. The howling wind outside masks my movements as I feel my way along the wall toward the kitchen.
When I reach it, I head straight for the fridge, squinting against the sudden brightness as I pull it open. The cool air is a blessing against my heated skin, and I take a moment just to stand there, letting it wash over me before scanning the contents.
Strawberry yogurt. Perfect. I grab a container and turn around to see I’m not alone—and I freeze in place, nearly dropping the container.
A figure sits at the kitchen table in the dark, perfectly still, watching me. I blink, my sight slowly adjusting to see James slouched in a chair with a half-empty whiskey glass in front of him. The faint glow from the fridge highlights the sharp planes of his face, his eyes like dark pools reflecting tiny pinpricks of light.
“Fuck!” I gasp, clutching the yogurt to my chest. “You scared me. Creepy much? Do you often sit in the dark watching people?”
His lips curl into that infuriating half-smile. “Only the interesting ones.”
I roll my eyes, trying to mask how his voice—low and rough with late-night whiskey—affects me. “And what makes me so interesting? The fact that I like midnight snacks?”
“Among other things.” He takes a slow sip of his drink.
I go to grab a spoon from a drawer. “Couldn’t sleep either?” I ask, aiming for casual.
“How could I?” There’s something dangerous in his tone that makes me glance his way.
He stands in one smooth motion, setting down his glass with a soft clink against the wooden table. His movements are deliberate as he approaches, like a predator who knows his prey has nowhere to run.
“It’s been killing me,” he says. “Watching you kiss him.”
Before I can respond, his hand slams against the refrigerator door, closing it and plunging us into deeper darkness. I’m caught between his body and the counter near the fridge, his arms caging me in. I set the yogurt and spoon on the counter behind me.
“You did that to punish me, didn’t you?” he asks, his face now inches from mine.
I can smell the whiskey on his breath, mingling with something darker, more primal—cedar and smoke and male. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I refuse to show fear.
“Maybe I did,” I challenge. “You lied to me.”
“I’m not the one who couldn’t wait,” he growls. “I was supposed to be your first kiss.”
The crazy in his voice should alarm me, but instead, it has me intrigued. Which is insane. I barely know this man—except I do know him, don’t I? All those late-night text conversations, those whispered confessions. The man who made me laugh when I couldn’t sleep, who listened when I talked about my mother, who shared bits of his soul in the safety of digital distance.
“You’ve been mine since that wrong number message,” he whispers. “You know it.”
I push against his chest, creating just enough space to breathe. “You’re insane, you know that? We texted for a few weeks. That doesn’t make me yours.”
“Doesn’t it?” He doesn’t move back, staying in my personal space. “Tell me you haven’t thought about me every day since we started talking. Tell me you weren’t disappointed when you realized I wasn’t some random wrong number.”
“I was pissed,” I correct him. “Because you lied to me about who you were.”
“I never lied about who I am,” he insists, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. “Just... didn’t reveal certain details.”
“Like prison? That seems like a pretty big detail to omit while we were playing the Questions game.”
His jaw tightens. “What was I supposed to say? By the way, Lily, I’m texting you from a prison cell, hope that’s cool?”
“You could have told me and that you were about to get out!”
“I was going to tell you,” he says, eyes locked on mine in the dim light. “In person. I was planning how to meet you, how to explain everything. And then suddenly you’re here, in the cabin, looking at me like I’m a stranger.” He sighs, dropping his forehead to rest against mine in a gesture so intimate, it steals my breath. “I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear? I was a coward.”
“Better,” I murmur, aware of his proximity, the heat of him bleeding into me, making my already overheated skin burn hotter.
“You’re still punishing me,” he accuses softly. “With Hunter. I saw the way you kissed him, Lily. That wasn’t just a dare.”
I should deny it, but I can’t quite bring myself to lie. “Maybe I wanted to see if what we had was real or just some digital fantasy.”
“And?” His breath fans across my lips. “What’s the verdict?”
“The jury’s still out,” I say, trying and failing to sound unaffected. “Hunter’s quite the kisser. I like him and Archer.”
A low growl rumbles from his chest, and his hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing roughly across my lower lip. “You want to drive me crazy, don’t you? Is this payback?”
“Not everything is about you, James,” I say, but I don’t pull away from his touch.
“This is,” he says with absolute certainty. “This—us—it’s been building since that first wrong number.”
“There is no us ,” I protest weakly. “There’s just a bunch of text messages and a lot of lies.”
“Tell me you didn’t feel something when we were talking every night,” he challenges. “Tell me you didn’t wait for my messages, think about what I might be doing, wonder what I looked like.”
I swallow hard, remembering the nights I’d fallen asleep with my phone in my hand, screen glowing with his words. The way I’d smile like an idiot at his jokes. The way my heart had raced when conversations turned deeper, more intimate.
“That doesn’t change anything,” I insist. “You still lied.”
“Then let me make it up to you,” he says. “Let me show you who I really am. I’ll tell you everything about how I got set up and sent to prison wrongly.”
“So, enlighten me,” I challenge. “Who is the real James?”
“The same man you’ve been talking to for weeks,” he grunts. “The one who knows you love true crime documentaries but have to sleep with the lights on afterward. The one who listened to you talk about your mother’s lemon pound cake recipe that you can’t quite get right. The one who told you things I’ve never told another soul.”
My chest tightens at the reminder of those conversations, the intimacy we’d built message by message. I’d told him about nightmares that still plague me. He’d shared stories of his family, of feeling like an outsider his whole life, of dreams to start his own bakery shop one day and follow his passion. Things he’d never admitted to anyone.
“I didn’t make that up, Lily,” he continues. “That was real. All of it.” His eyes search mine, as if gauging whether I can handle it. “I was stupid, trusting, and naive. I believed my friend, Rick, needed me to pick him up one night, but I unknowingly became his getaway driver. Then he pissed off, the bastard, leaving me to face the cops. But I got him back as I reported him to the cops for having drugs at his place, and he’s serving time across the country in another prison.”
“That’s something, I guess.” I study his face in the dim light, trying to reconcile the man I thought I knew with this new information.
His hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. “How much longer, Lily? How much more do I have to pay?”
The heat of his touch sends sparks down my spine, and I have to fight to maintain clarity. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Yes, you do.” His eyes drop to my lips. “The same thing you want from me.”
I should push him away. Tell him to go to hell. Storm back upstairs and forget this conversation ever happened. Instead, I find myself swaying closer.
“This is a terrible idea,” I whisper.
“The best ones always are.” His other hand skates to my waist, pulling me closer. “I’m done with games, Lily. You’re mine.”
His dominance ignites something savage inside me. I grab his shirt, yanking him down to my level.
“Prove it,” I challenge.
His mouth crashes down on mine, tension exploding into a kiss that’s nothing like Hunter’s gentle exploration. This is raw, demanding, obsessive. His lips claim mine with a brutality that matches the inferno burning through my veins.
I respond with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his hair, lifting myself up on tippy toes. He draws me away from the counter, and we stumble about, our kiss never breaking. I knock the yogurt container off the counter. It clatters to the floor, but neither of us cares enough to stop.
“Been thinking about this,” he growls against my neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin. “Every night since we started talking.”
“Shut up,” I gasp, not wanting reminders of his deception now, not when his hands are doing wicked things to my body.
We push away from the counter, stumbling through the kitchen, knocking into chairs as we move. His mouth never leaves mine for long, returning again and again like he can’t bear to be separated.
We crash into the living room, bumping against the coffee table hard enough to send magazines scattering across the floor. The sound seems impossibly loud in the quiet house, but I’m beyond caring if we wake the others.
James maneuvers us toward the couch, and we collapse onto it in a tangle of limbs. The impact knocks us off balance, and we roll to the floor, landing in front of the fireplace. The movement stirs the embers, causing them to flare briefly, illuminating us on the rug.
He pins me beneath him, looking down with a savagery that steals my breath. His weight should feel oppressive, but instead, it grounds me against the storm of desire threatening to sweep me away.
“This is what I’ve imagined,” he says. “What I’ve needed. Craved.” His hand brushes hair from my face with surprising tenderness, a stark contrast to the desperation of moments before. “And I can’t let you go now.”
The words should terrify me. They should send me running. Instead, I pull him back down to me, surrendering and claiming all at once.
“Then don’t,” I whisper against his lips.
His mouth captures mine again, gentler this time, but no less controlling. His hands slide under my tank top, callused fingers tracing patterns on my overheated skin. Every touch burns, feeding the inferno inside me rather than soothing it.
“Your body’s fucking burning up,” he murmurs. “You want me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, the word ripped from somewhere primal inside me as his hand slides higher on my thigh. “God, yes.”
“Say it again,” he demands, teeth grazing my earlobe. “Tell me how much you want me.”
“I need you,” I whisper, fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’ve wanted you since before I knew your face.”
He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest against mine. “That’s right, baby. You’re fucking mine. You’ve always been mine.”
His hand slides between my legs, spreading them, and I gasp at the first touch against my pussy, hot even through the thin fabric of my sleep shorts.
“So wet for me already,” he growls approvingly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Lily. Thinking about how you’d feel, how you’d taste.”
Before I can process his words, he kneels between my legs, looking up at me with dark hunger.
“James, maybe we…” I start, but the words die in my throat as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and underwear, dragging them down my legs in one swift motion.
Then he spreads my legs, his gaze lowering, his tongue dragging over his lower lip with pure unadulterated hunger.
“Fuck, look at you,” he breathes. “So deliciously perfect.”
The cool air hits my exposed skin for only a moment before he lowers himself before me, his hands on my inner thighs, spreading me wider. Then his mouth is on me, and I cry out, my back arching off the floor.
His hand immediately comes up to cover my mouth. “Gotta be quiet, baby,” he warns, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. “Unless you want company.”
The thought of the others hearing, of being discovered like this, should mortify me. But it actually thrills me.
James returns, his tongue taking long strokes, sucking and flicking my clit. I bite down on his palm to keep from screaming as his tender bites send me convulsing with arousal.
My hips rock against his mouth. His free hand grips my thigh bruisingly tight, holding me in place as he devours me—tongue plunging into me, lapping at me. I’ve never had a man go down on me. Sure, I’ve been fingered and played with, even had sex once, but fuck me, nothing compares to a mouth devouring me.
It’s soft, but starved, and I moan louder against his palm. My fingers tangle in his hair, needing more of him inside me as I struggle to stay quiet.
When he replaces his tongue with two fingers, pushing into me roughly, curling it to hit just the right spot while his tongue continues its relentless assault, fingering me hard, fast, I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me like the storm outside, my body trembling as he keeps pumping into me, sucking on my clit.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my thigh, pressing hot kisses to the sensitive skin. “Come harder for me.”
I’m still shaking, floating, when the sound of a door opening upstairs cuts through my haze.
Heavy footsteps cross the hallway, and I try to pull away, suddenly aware of how exposed I am. James doesn’t let me, instead pulling me tighter against him.
“I have no issues sharing you with my friends,” he whispers against my ear. “They’re my everything. But you’re mine first.”
The words send a shiver down my spine—equal parts fear and arousal. What kind of man says something like that? And why does it turn me on so much?
After a moment, the bathroom door closes, and we hear the sound of running water.
“Hunter,” James whispers, but there’s no guilt in his expression—only a predatory intensity that makes my knees weak.
“So, you want to share me with them?” I whisper.
He grins. “You said it was your fantasy during truth or dare, right? Leaving us to have our way with you.”
I’m still spread wide, legs wrapped around his waist, thinking how much I might love having all three men. Except, am I just dreaming that this is anything more than us stuck in a cabin and losing control of our inhibitions?
“I... I’m not sure we should do more,” I stammer, still trembling from the orgasm buzzing through my body. “Even this... God, this was incredible but moving fast.”
James chuckles, a dark sound that vibrates through his chest. “Too late for second thoughts, baby. But I can be patient.” He pulls back into his knees, his attention dipping between my thighs.
I blush, seeing the way he stares at me.
“You have such a pretty pussy.” He reaches down and pushes the tips of his fingers into me. “I’m fucking dying to put my cock inside you.” Then he pulls back and sticks them into his mouth, licking them, eyes rolling back like he’s in ecstasy.
A buzz tingles deep in my stomach at the sight of his enjoyment, but then in moments, he helps me to my feet, before grabbing and handing me my shorts.
My legs threaten to give out, but I quickly get dressed.
Before I can respond, he scoops me into his arms, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. I yelp in surprise, clutching at his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Taking you to bed,” he says simply, carrying me toward the stairs as if I weigh nothing.
He moves silently through the house, avoiding the creaky steps I’d stumbled over earlier. When we reach my room, he pushes the door open with his foot and carries me to the bed, laying me down with surprising gentleness.
“I’ll be dreaming about the taste of you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead that’s almost tender. “About all the ways I’m going to fuck you.”
The crude words spoken so softly have me shivering. I should be appalled. I should tell him to leave. Instead, I find myself reaching for him, pulling him down for one more kiss.
He allows it, and I taste myself in his mouth… it’s almost sweet, the scent strong. He pulls back before it can deepen.
“Dream of me,” he commands, his thumb brushing across my swollen lips.
“Goodnight, James,” I whisper, already feeling the loss of his burning warmth.
He backs toward the door, his gaze never leaving mine. “Goodnight, Lily.”
As the door closes behind him, I curl onto my side, my body still humming with satisfaction and a rising hunger. Whatever this is between us—dark and twisted and needy—it’s only just beginning.