Choosing the Hart: A Love Triangle

by René, Dani

  I walked toward the canvasses and noticed the largest one with blues and greens. It was so calming. There was a figure faded in the paint. A woman, abstract, but it was definitely there. I walked over to the sketch table. “This is . . .” I was at a loss for words as I moved the papers around, looking at the pencil sketches.

  “Don’t, not those.” Bash walked up behind me, but before he could stop me, I found one. The one I guessed he was trying to hide. The likeness was unmistakable. I gasped, turning to face him, still holding the sketch. I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t find the words. I looked up into the molten hazel gaze, then back down to the sketch.

  “You . . . I . . .” I muttered. Words really couldn’t explain it. The sketch was beautifully raw and captured the moment so perfectly. I was breathless.

  “I didn’t want you to see that. Give it here, please?” He stepped forward and reached for the paper I held. I shook my head. My sudden awareness of his proximity to me was stifling. The fact that he was half naked wasn’t lost to me either. I moved my arm behind my back, hiding the page from him. He leaned forward, and his arm wrapped around me. I felt his hot breath against my cheek. We were both frozen, his hand gripped my hand and the page, but he didn’t move away. He leaned forward, and his lips brushed against my cheek so lightly I thought I might have imagined it. I stood frozen. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to warm the chill I felt standing barefoot in his studio.

  “Emily.” His voice was a low whisper in my ear. “Give it to me, please?” I didn’t budge. I couldn’t move. I was scared of what was going to happen if I let go. My mind was lost to me at that moment. Maybe it was the wine, and perhaps it was the heat inside me. It was intensified to an unbearable sensation.

  “No,” I breathed against his cheek. My voice unrecognizable, and I ached deep inside. I saw the goosebumps rise on his tanned skin. The tattoo that covered the top half of his arm tensed, and I knew he was as affected as I was.

  “Em.” His voice a warning. “Tell me to stop?” I could hear the pleading in his voice. I shook my head slowly, unable to voice anything. “If you don’t, you know what I will do?” It was a warning. He was giving me a choice. He took another step forward, and his body was flush against mine. I placed my right-hand flat against his rock-hard abs, his skin hot to the touch, and I felt him harden against my hip. My other hand was still engulfed by his, holding on to the sketch of me, naked laying on my sofa the night we made love.

  “Bash,” I whispered again, my lips on his shoulder. His skin was soft, smooth, and hot. He gripped my hip and pulled me into him. His mouth devoured me, moving over my neck. I bit into his shoulder as he licked the shell of my ear. Feeling his hot breath on me was enough to dampen my panties. I squirmed in his firm embrace. “Jesus, Emily, I need you so fucking bad right now.” His hoarse whisper turned me on even more than I was before.

  I closed my eyes, and deep in my mind, I saw those intense blue eyes, and it felt like I had been drenched with ice-cold water. “Stop!” Bash pulled away, his hardness evident in his tight jeans. “Bash, I’m sorry. I can’t. I just . . .”

  “I know. I know . . . You better go!” He spun on his heel and left me in the studio, breathless and entirely at his mercy.

  * * *

  I stepped out of the elevator into the foyer, then through the door. The lights in the living room were still on. I heard the faint sound of music, and I looked at the iPod, but it wasn’t on. I frowned. That was so strange. I put my dress and shoes on the sofa and walked toward the bedroom. That’s where the music was coming from. It sounded so sad. Triston wasn’t in bed; the balcony door was open. I walked toward the door and stood captivated. Triston was sitting on a small stool with his guitar on his lap, strumming a melody by one of my favorite bands. I recognized the song immediately. It was my favorite acoustic songs they played called “Witness.” The lyrics along with the melody always clenched at my heart. You could hear the pain so evident in the singer’s voice. I stood mesmerized, watching him. He hummed along with the guitar, then sang the chorus softly into the dark night. His voice was amazing. I had goosebumps listening to him. Suddenly, he stopped and turned. “Emily?”

  “Triston.” I stepped out into the chilly night and stood next to him. He looked me up and down, and I shivered under his scrutiny.

  “Why aren’t you wearing your dress?” He stood up and laid the guitar on the table.

  I took a deep breath. I needed to tell him. “I changed, earlier. I, um . . . Bash was showing me his studio and didn’t want me to ruin my dress. So—”

  “So he took it off for you?” Anger flared in Triston’s eyes, and I wasn’t sure telling him was the best idea.

  “No! God, Triston, I took my dress off, in the bathroom, with the door closed!” My voice rose an octave, and I was glad we didn’t have neighbors.

  “And then? You fucked him?” His words were harsh and cut into me like a knife. I felt my heart constricting.

  “No, Triston, I did not fuck him! I came home to fuck you! But I see you’re clearly not in the mood, so I will go to bed!” I spun around. Before I could walk away, Triston grabbed my wrist, pulling me back toward him.

  “Look into my eyes!” I obeyed his order and stared into those intense blue eyes. “Did you sleep with my brother tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He pulled me over to the table and gripped my neck, bending me over. “Hands flat on the table straight ahead of you.” I did as he said. I felt the sting through the thin fabric of my shorts. Another slap, and another. “Count!” His voice was harsh, but it was laced with desire.

  “One!” My voice came out louder than I thought. “Two, three, four!”

  “Did you enjoy hanging up on me, Miss Reid?” His voice changed hearing the lust taking over. The heat between my legs intensified. I shook my head.

  Slap! “Five!”

  Slap! “Six!”

  “Will you hang up on me again?” I shook my head. Triston gripped my neck, pulling me back up, his lips against my ear. I felt his erection straining against my ass, pressing into me painfully. I needed him. “I do not like being hung up on. Do you understand, Miss Reid?”

  “Yes.” My answer was soft and filled with my own desire. I felt the heat pool between my legs. I wanted him. I needed him. I was aching from the earlier confrontation with Bash and the spanking I had just received. I needed Triston to take me. Hard!

  “Good!” His free hand groped my breast, tweaking my hardening nipple through the top, causing a whimper to escape. Copying his action on my other breast, another whimper escaped my lips. “Now, I am going to fuck you,” he said hoarsely and bit my earlobe, and I nearly came undone. “Hard!”

  My knees weakened, and I trembled at his words. He bent me over the table again and pulled my shorts and panties down. “Mmm, so wet, my dirty girl.” I felt his tongue between my legs, and I couldn’t hold out any longer. My orgasm shook through me, and I held onto the table to keep myself up. As soon as my orgasm subsided, I heard the zipper of his jeans. He slammed into me hard and deep, relentless with his assault.

  He slid in and out, faster and faster. He gripped my hair and pulled my head back. His other hand gripped my hip as he slammed into me. I felt myself clench around him, tightening. I was once again on edge. “Emily!” His voice was so sexy, scratchy and hoarse. “You are so fucking sexy, bent over for me.” He started with his dirty words, and I knew he was trying to push me over the edge. He didn’t have to try very hard as I felt myself about to explode. “I love being inside you. You’re so fucking tight, makes me want you all the time!”

  I moaned loudly. He spurred me on. “Yes, angel, come for me. You are mine, all mine!” His words lay claim to me, nudging me, and I felt myself falling. My eyes rolled back, and my knees trembled. I gripped the edge of the table and clenched around him, wanting him to fill me. I didn’t wait long.

  * * *

  I opened my eyes early Saturday morning. As I rolled
over, I felt a familiar ache on my ass. Last night, Triston claiming me on the balcony, fresh in my mind. I scooted up and noticed the balcony door was open, and the sun was bright. It looked like a beautiful day. I knew autumn was on the way, and soon we would have the cold to deal with. “You’re awake.” Triston walked into the bedroom carrying a tray. “Come.” He gestured toward the balcony. I swung my legs out of bed and realized I was still wearing Bash’s T-shirt. I pulled it off and made my way to the walk-in closet. I pulled one of Triston’s T-shirts from the drawer and slipped it on.

  Out on the balcony, Triston had set up breakfast under the umbrella. The sun was hot, and it was only 9 a.m. “Are we working today? I know it’s Saturday, but—” I asked. He shook his head.

  “No, we are taking the day off. We need to sit and go through the arrangements for next week. We fly to London on Sunday next week, ready for Monday’s set up, so we only have a week to prepare.” I gasped. Of course, I had totally forgotten about it. I finished my bagel and looked up at Triston. He was watching me. “I want to apologize, about last night. I didn’t think you had sex with him. I was just angry and jealous seeing you come home with different clothes. I jumped to conclusions.”

  “Triston, don’t. You do not have to apologize to me. I shouldn’t have gone to his apartment. I was angry with you, and I didn’t want to come home.” I picked up my mug and poured more coffee.

  “I know. Look, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’m dealing with, and I don’t want you to get angry.” I looked up and saw his unease.

  “Okay?” I answered cautiously.

  “Promise?” I nodded. “I got a call from James, and, um . . .” He hesitated, and I felt my stomach drop. This must have something to do with Blake. The next words out of his mouth stumped me. “Krista is ill. I’m going later today to see her.”

  “What?” I met his gaze, and I could see the concern etched on his face. “You mean your ex-fiancée?” I was shocked. Why on earth would he visit an ex who cheated on him and left him for his brother? Something didn’t make sense.

  He nodded slowly. “She’s in the hospital, and I want to go and see her, to know she’s okay. Nothing more.” He looked at me and gave a small smile.

  “And what am I meant to do? Sit here and wait for you to finish seeing your ex? She left you, Triston!” I felt anger rising, and I felt sick.

  “I want you to come with me.” I could see the pleading in his eyes, but this was ridiculous. How could he show such concern for someone who did that to him?

  “No fucking way!” I stood up and walked back inside. How could he even think I would want to go and see his ex? What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking! I went into the living room and grabbed my phone.

  “Angel.” Triston walked in after me. “Look, I’m sorry. You don’t have to go. I just thought if you saw her and me together, you would know there isn’t anything between us. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  “Triston, let this go. I don’t want to meet her, see her, or ever hear her name again. I need to go.” I walked past him, back into the bedroom. Grabbing my sports bra and a pair of shorts, I walked into the bathroom to change.

  “Where are you going?” He followed me into the bathroom. I stared at him, long and hard. My face must have shown my anger because he didn’t come closer.

  “I’m going for a run.” He nodded and turned away, leaving me to simmer alone.

  When I walked back into the bedroom, he wasn’t there. I pulled on a pair of socks and my gym shoes as I plugged in my earphones and found my running playlist. I walked into the living room and to the door. “Please be careful, angel?” Triston’s voice was strained from the kitchen, I knew he was stressed, but at that moment, I didn’t care. He could visit his ex, but I didn’t want anything to do with it.

  “Fine!” I slammed the apartment door and stepped into the waiting elevator. As the doors slid closed, I saw him open the apartment door and watch me leave.

  Out on the street, I turned left and ran. My regular route around Central Park was quiet this morning. I decided on a second lap when instinctively I ran out the entrance on the opposite side. I found myself outside the familiar building without thinking about it. The doorman gave me a small smile and nodded. I greeted him and walked toward the elevators, pressing the call button. I didn’t know what I was doing here, but I didn’t want to go home.

  I stepped into the elevator and realized I must be a sweaty mess, but I didn’t care one bit. Pressing the sixth-floor button, I waited. As soon as the doors opened, I second guessed myself. Did I really want to be here? Was this a good idea? I stepped into the hallway and made my way to apartment 6277. I knocked and waited anxiously.

  When the door swung open, I was met by a surprised pair of hazel-brown eyes. “Emily!” He stepped aside, allowing me access. I pulled the earphones from my ears and pressed pause on my phone. My phone beeped a few times with messages and missed calls from Triston, which I ignored. I turned to look at Bash. His face filled with concern, but he didn’t ask. “Sorry . . . I shouldn’t—”

  “It’s okay. Come in. I was making coffee. Do you want some?” I nodded. We walked into the kitchen, and I slid onto one of the barstools at the counter. “Are you okay? What are you doing here? Not that I mind you being here, of course!” He smiled.

  “I just needed some space. To think, you know?” He nodded and busied himself with the coffee machine. It looked like a fancy one as well. The smell of coffee soon filled the room, the aroma assaulting my senses. “Nice machine!”

  “Yeah, it’s new. I’m testing it out for the events we’re setting up. I need to know how it handles everyday use so I can start selling them as well.” He turned with a steaming mug of my favorite coffee.

  “Thanks.” I inhaled the aroma and felt a bit calmer. I opened my eyes, and his intense gaze was on me. “I’m really gross right now. I ran through the park.” I smiled, exhaustion hit me after the drama last night and this morning.

  “I wondered what the smell was!” He laughed as I stuck my tongue out at him again. He was too far to reach so that I couldn’t swat him. “Joking, darling! You still look beautiful, even all sweaty.” His appreciative gaze fell over my sports bra and stopped. I looked down and realized he was looking at the logo. It was similar to the symbol on his bike helmet, the lightning strike. I wondered what the connection was. “Nice brand.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t realize they did bike accessories as well,” I commented.

  “They don’t. It’s a sticker. I was sponsored by them when I did a photography show in LA a few years back. They used the symbol as their logo for that range. It’s actually my autograph.” His face broke out into a large grin. “So, essentially, you’re wearing me on your . . . Uh . . .” he gestured toward my chest, and I felt myself flush.

  “Nice coffee.” I looked down at the mug, trying to keep from smiling, needing to change the subject.

  “Yeah, it’s good. Emily, I would love it if you would sit for me?”

  “What? I am sitting.” I frowned, and he laughed.

  “I mean, I would love to paint you. If you don’t mind?”

  “It seems you have no trouble remembering what I look like.” I gestured toward the studio, remembering the sketch of me. My body, naked on the paper, his pencil strokes capturing the intensity of the moment. He nodded and turned away, putting the mug in the sink. “It’s okay, stupid idea. I just wanted to see you in blues and greens.” I got up. Walking around the counter, I reached past him, placing my mug next to his. He didn’t move. The proximity of our bodies heated my skin. My hand brushed against his as I pulled away, and he turned to face me — his body flush with mine. My breath hitched as his scent invaded my senses. His knuckles stroked my cheek. It was such a soft gesture that it caused a shiver to radiate through my body. He lifted my chin with his finger until our eyes locked.

  “Emily, what are you doing here?” His question was heated, filled with need and desire, his f
ace so close to mine I could see the tiny green specks in his beautiful hazel eyes.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I really didn’t know what I was doing there. I loved Triston. He was the one. Wasn’t he? I pulled away and went to sit back down, the counter keeping us apart. It wasn’t the only thing keeping us apart, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.

  We stayed silent for a few moments. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. “Maybe I should go.” I stood up and looked at him expectantly. What did I want? Did I want him to stop me? Did I want him to tell me he wanted me? There was a lot I wasn’t sure about right then.

  “You seem to love doing that.” He looked at me.

  “Doing what?”

  “Leaving.” The air was thick, filled with anticipation. For what? I didn’t know. If I weren’t dating his brother, I would probably walk around the counter and—

  Stopping myself midway through that thought, I smiled. “It’s the easiest thing to do. I mean, I can’t even be in the same room as you, Bash.”

  “You mean you can’t be in the same room with me without letting me grab you, pin you against that wall, and devour you?” His voice laced with desire, and my own flowed through me. I willed it to stop, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. I didn’t answer him, and he continued. “You mean that every time I touch you, your body responds to me? It aches to be taken. Your body wants me to fill you like I did that first night. To feel my lips on your hard nipples, teasing them, biting them? To kiss my way down that beautifully sweaty body and make you scream my name?” He gripped the sink, and I could see the strain in his hands. I was sure he would pull the sink apart with that vice grip he had on it. “Is that what you mean, Emily?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I certainly didn't trust myself answering him. He smiled, knowing he had me. I nodded in answer to his words. Of course, he knew he was right because he felt it too. We did have a connection. There was no denying it. I just wasn’t going to hurt his brother. I needed to get out of his apartment. This was a mistake. “I think it is best that I go.” Bash finally released the grip on the sink and walked toward me, nodding.