Regardless of my feelings for Ally—and there are feelings—I’m not that man and she’s not that woman. And all the time we have is right now. Uttering those words would only spark confusion and conflict for both of us. So I swallow both our moans of surrender as I give her the parts of me that I can give. The parts of me that quiver and pulse until pain and pleasure become one and the same. Until heat and cold race up my spine, and my joints are too flooded with sensation to move, and I release it all into her—the fear, the anger, the bliss of just having her in my arms—it’s all hers.

I’mhers.

SOMETHING STIRS ME from sleep, but I try to fight it. I don’t want to move, I don’t even want to breathe. But it sounds again from the living room, and I know I have to leave this bed and the warmth of Ally’s body.

Fuck. My phone.

Dim light filters through the blinds, and I realize that we’ve sexed and slept the day away. There was talking, some eating, even some hydrating, but mostly our time was spent kissing, touching and pushing our bodies beyond pleasure.

As gently as I possibly can, I unravel my arm from under Ally’s frame. She stirs, murmuring something unintelligible before resuming a soft snore. I shake my head and laugh silently to myself as I make my way to the living room. Before Ally, every woman I had ever been with, looked like supermodels even in slumber. Hair and makeup somehow stayed meticulously in place. Part of me didn’t even believe they ever truly slept, just fluttered those long-lashed eyes closed and posed like wax statues on the bed. But with Ally, everything is different, more real. Her red hair is in knots all over both our faces. She snores a bit, not loudly, but loud enough that I know she’s asleep. And a little drop of drool settles in the corner of her mouth.

Maybe all women really sleep this way. I don’t know. I’ve never stuck around long enough to find out.

I follow the chimes resonating from my phone, and find it on the coffee table. Missed calls and text messages from Heidi. One from Diane, checking in. Another from Riku asking me if everything is ok. I ignore them all and zero in on the half-dozen Google alerts clogging my screen.

Breaking News…

This Just In…

Shocking Truth Revealed…

Same bullshit, different headline. But all I can see is a face, a name. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, crying false tears of remorse and longing.

Evan Carr’s shocking revelation: I sent my wife to the sex doctor

In a press release earlier today, Evan Carr revealed that he regrettably sent wife, Allison Elliot-Carr to celebrity sex therapist, Justice Drake, under the pretense that Drake was an intimacy professional, NOT a sexual deviant.

“When we first were told about Mr. Drake and his practice, we thought it would help Allison build her confidence and become in touch with her sexuality,” said the socialite. “We signed up with the assumption that it would be positive for our marriage. Little did we know what Justice Drake was really about. I would have never put my wife in this situation had I known.”

A tearful Carr goes on to say that he is doing everything in his power to locate his wife and bring her back. “Her place is with me,” he says. “Not with some hack that sold us a lie. I can’t even imagine what he could be doing to Ally and God knows who else.”

Evan Carr provided details of the enrollment forms, saying that the women would be sent to an undisclosed location where they could have no contact with the outside world for six weeks. When asked about Justice Drake’s identity, Carr shook his head.

“No one has ever seen him. I can’t even be sure that he’s a man. All contact has been through his PR or email.”

Drake’s publicist, Heidi DuCane, was unavailable for comment.

I dial the illusive blonde next, my heartbeat pounding painfully in my head.

“You’re lucky I have shit to do,” Heidi says after picking up on the first ring. “I wanted to storm your little love nest and drag your ass out of there.”

“Where are you?” My voice is gruff with sleep and aggravation.

“Headed back to New York, but had to make a stop first.” She pauses to give the driver instructions to a hotel on Michigan Ave. “Something came up and I want to check it out.”

“You’re in Chicago?”

“Yeah. Art is meeting me here.”

I exhale heavily and lean back on the couch. Arthur Cambridge, III is my attorney. If he’s involved, something is up. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re being blackmailed, Justice. A few hours ago, I was sent an audio recording of you having sex. I don’t know who it was with, but the woman was very vocal. She kept calling you by your name. Know anything about that?”

I close my eyes and rub the tension collecting in my temples. “No. How do you know it’s not doctored?”

“We checked it out. It’s authentic. However, my team was able to trace the IP address back to Chicago.”

I almost smirk. “You have a team of hackers, Heidi?”

“Doesn’t everybody? And even if it is from years ago, we can’t take that risk. Not with the press calling for your head on a platter. I’m texting it to you now. Listen. Call me when you’re done.”

A message chimes a second later and I hang up with Heidi to open the attachment. Heavy breathing. Moaning. A sweet voice singing my name as I instruct her to fuck, then suck me.

I don’t need to hear anymore. I was there. Just yesterday, I was there.

I call Heidi back, and she answers immediately. “I have a pretty good idea who’s behind this, and I’m sure you do too.”

Erin.

Stupid fucking Erin.

I think back to when I took Ally right here on this very couch. I remember telling her to take off her shirt and then capturing her flawed beauty through the lens of my camera phone. Then my mouth was devouring her pink-tipped nipples and demanding she take off those ridiculously oversized boxers. And then I was deep inside her, losing myself to pleasure, my phone forgotten.

How the fuck did Erin get a recording of that? Hers was the last number I dialed, but the screen was locked. Had she called? Did we accidently graze that evil, little green icon, while Ally rode me like a cowgirl?

“We’re going to bury her,” Heidi continues. “Her grandchildren will be paying you their lunch money.”

I shake my head in frustration. “How much is she asking?”

Heidi makes a tsking sound. “Two million, which technically won’t kill you but still…”

“Give it to her.”

“What?”

“Tell Art to give it to her. Give her the money.”

Heidi’s voice goes a pitch higher than I’ve ever heard it. “You can’t be serious! That bitch is in direct violation of contract, and you want to reward her? She has nothing, Justice. There’s no way she can prove it was you-”

“It doesn’t matter, Heidi. None of it matters. Retrieve the evidence, give her the money, and do what you need to do to ensure she disappears.”

The line goes quiet for several beats before Heidi chuckles. “You’ve gone completely mad, haven’t you?”

I chuckle too. I don’t know why. My business is crumbling at my feet, I’m being blackmailed by a girl who didn’t have two nickels to rub together before she met me, and I’m having an affair with a married woman that I can’t shake. I am mad. Mad, yet I’ve never felt more normal. More tied to the life I left behind—Ally’s life.

I hear light shuffling behind me, and I look up in time to see Ally leaning against the doorjamb, wearing one of my sweatshirts, sleep and sex sparkling in her eyes. She smiles at me, and a feeling too strong to fully contain bursts in my chest before sinking into the pit of my stomach.