by Cat Mason
I turn around before he sees me and climb the stairs back to his room.
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I curl up in the chair in the corner. With my knees pulled up into my chest, I text Lynsey because she’s the one person I know of that won’t judge me, or immediately go running to Gunnar.
Worst person in the world award goes to this girl.
I try to keep my eyes open in case she wakes up and texts me back, but it doesn’t happen. I cry myself to sleep, curled into a ball in the chair with my phone in hand.
The vibrating of a phone and the movement of the bed wake me, but it isn’t my husband staring at me when I open my eyes. I jolt back, groaning when the movement makes everything hurt, and everything that Dixon did to me last night floods my mind. Reaching over me, he grabs my phone and holds it out for me. I stare at his hand as if it’s going to bite me. When I don’t reach out for it, he drops it on the bed next to me and slides out from between the sheets, disappearing into the bathroom.
The photo on the screen taunts me as my phone continues to ring. My husband’s face and beaming smile mock me as if he knows what I’ve done.
He can’t know. Ever. It would kill him and the last thing I ever want to do is hurt Gunnar.
Hmm. Maybe, you should have thought about that, Kennedy.
My brain battles against letting me answer because I’m scared he’ll hear the guilt in my voice, but I force myself to do it anyway.
“Hey,” I mumble once the phone is to my ear.
“Why would you do something like that?” My face pales and I rush to get out of the bed because I need to move. This situation calls for pacing, right? How did I get in the bed? He knows. How the hell does he fucking know? “Drinking and fucking driving, Kennedy. What the hell were you thinking?”
My racing heart slows down a bit, but the urge to vomit is still very present. Blowing out a deep breath, I sag back against the wall. “I thought I was fine, but it hit me all at once when we were almost here. I’m so sorry.” I wonder if that apology was because I drank and drove, or because I let Dixon fuck me last night.
I hear him blow out an aggravated breath before sighing. “I woke up to no wife, and a message about you drinking and driving. It wasn’t the way I wanted to start my morning.”
Well, I woke up in bed with your best friend. I bet that would top the list of things you don’t want your wife to do…
“I said I was sorry, Gunnar. Nobody is going to feel worse about what happened last night than I do, because I didn’t just put myself in jeopardy. I get it. I’ll be home in a bit.” Without waiting for him to say anything, I hang up and drag my hands through my knotted up hair, wincing when I pull against my tender scalp.
"I warned you that you were gonna be sore."
My head snaps up, stopping when I find Dixon smirking at me. I want nothing more than to slap the cocky asshole right now, but I can’t get my feet to move. “You think this is funny?”
“You wanted it just as much as I did, Kennedy. Don’t get it twisted in your pretty little head. I may have started it, but you sure as hell didn’t stop me.”
“I cheated on my husband because you started it!”
In three long strides he has me pushed back against the wall. With a hand on either side of my head, he stoops down until he’s eye level with me. “Do you think I planned on sleepin’ with my best friend’s wife? I’d rather cut off my arm than hurt Gunnar and you fuckin’ know that shit. Time to face the facts, sunshine, it happened and we can't change it now. I needed sex, you needed a good rough fuckin’.” My hand shoots up, slapping him hard across the side of his face. Dixon growls and grabs my hands, pinning them beside my head and when I struggle to pull them away, he tightens his grip. “Don’t deny it, Kennedy. I saw a side of you last night that I doubt Gunnar has ever seen. Does he know that you want to be fucked so hard you forget your name? Does he know that you scream in ecstasy when your hair is bein’ pulled and a thick cock is bein’ driven into your pussy? I bet you silently beg him to fuck your sweet ass and he won’t do it. He’s scared, Kennedy. He’s scared he’s gonna hurt you, just like you’re scared to tell him you want it.”
“You don’t know shit, Dixon.”
I swear the fucker laughs just before slamming his lips against mine again. I struggle, trying to push him away, but it’s no use. My head is screaming at me that this is wrong, but my body doesn’t seem to get the message. Again, Dixon knows the second I give in to him because he lets go of my hands and slides them into my hair, tightening his grip until I gasp. He takes advantage of my weak moment and kisses me harder. My mind continues to scream at me to push him away, but my body wants nothing more than to pull him closer and have a repeat of last night.
Pulling away, Dixon grins down at me. “Told you you want what I can give you. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.” Turning around, he walks from the room with his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Get your ass washed up and in the truck, Kennedy. We don’t want to keep Gunnar waitin’ so long that he comes lookin’, because who knows what will happen if you’re still in the shower when I come back in.”
"I hate you, Dixon Hale!" I yell after him.
"Tell that to your pussy, Kennedy," he hollers back. "At least that set of lips doesn't lie."
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I rush into the bathroom and shower as fast as I possibly can. Am I afraid that he'll make good on his threat of coming in here and make a liar out of me again? You can bet your ass I am. I shouldn't want him. I don't want to. I love Gunnar— I've loved him ever since we were teenagers—but Dixon was right when he said something is missing.
As I'm drying off, my phone vibrates on the counter and when I grab it, I get lost in the amount of text messages from Lynsey. They range from "Um why", to "You fucking whore, since you won't text me back you now have to work today." The door swings open just as I pull my shirt over my head.
"Well hell, I was hopin’ you were still in there naked and wet. I could have dirtied you up some more and then cleaned you up before takin’ you home."
The fact that I have to go home punches me in the gut. The guilt builds up even more, making the need to vomit hit me again. I finish pulling my shirt into place and shove past him so I can leave. Every step I take toward the truck makes me feel even sicker and when I climb in, Gunnar's scent surrounds me. If it weren't for the fact that Dixon was sliding in beside me right now, I would probably break down and cry again. Instead, I suck it up and tell myself that I can do that later when no one is around. I slam the truck into gear and only turn in Dixon's direction when I need to look out the window or use the mirror. He doesn't say anything the entire ride, but I can feel him staring at me every now and then, and I know if I were to turn and look at him I would lose it.
I’ll be damned if I’ll give Dixon Hale the fucking satisfaction.
The second we pull into the driveway and the truck is off, I barrel out and rush into the bathroom, somehow avoiding Gunnar on my way. I need another shower. I need to scrub myself clean and hopefully wash some of this guilt down the drain. I know it's impossible, but I need to try. Turning the knob on as hot as I can get it, I climb in and let the water pour over me. I open my mouth, letting the water rush over my tongue and try to get the taste of Dixon off my lips before I see Gunnar.
Gunnar says something and Dixon starts laughing in the kitchen when I finally get out and get dressed. Laughing. Like he didn’t just screw his best friend’s wife. Am I the only one with guilt in this situation?
When Gunnar notices me, he pushes away from the table and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. It’s the same spot that Dixon had his last night and I pray that I was able to get the scent of him off of me so Gunnar doesn’t notice. He holds me like nothing is wrong, even though it is, and it kills me.
How could I have done this to him? To us.
“You rushed right into the bathroom, babe. You feelin’ all right?”
I step back, tr
ying to put some distance between us because I’m afraid he will be able to sense how guilty I am. “Fine,” I mumble.
“You sure?” Closing the distance I put between us, Gunnar cups my jaw, tilting my face to look into my eyes. Concern fills his features and I feel about two inches tall having him worried about me after what I’ve done.
Forcing a smile, I nod. “I am. Just tired and need coffee.” Brushing him off, I press a kiss to his jaw. “Go ahead and finish getting ready for work. I’m going to clean up some in here. Do you want coffee?” I ask, turning towards the sink full of dirty dishes I meant to do last night before bed.
“No, thanks, babe.”
Dixon leans back against the counter next to me when Gunnar leaves the room to get ready for work. Having him this close makes me nervous because who knows what he’s going to do. His arms brushes mine just as I slide the sponge into the glass. I jump, trying to get away from him quickly, and end up shattering the glass against the edge of the sink.
“Motherfucker!” I hiss when a shard of glass slices the palm of my hand under my thumb.
Just like the fucking hero he is, Dixon jumps into action without hesitation. He presses against me from behind and rinses the blood clear from my hand. Stooping down, he whispers in my ear.
“If you don’t calm the fuck down and act normal, he’s gonna figure out what happened. You’ve never jumped when I’ve touched you before. If you start now, your marriage is over.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down because I know he’s right. I know that if I change the way I used to act, everything I have will all go down the drain. It was one night. One night that meant nothing, but can ruin everything if we screw up. Dixon shifts to the side so he can see my hand better but rests his head against mine and quickly kisses my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
For the first time since we got here, I make eye contact. The cockiness from this morning is gone, replaced by something else. I’m not sure what, but it makes me believe his apology is sincere. After a few seconds of doing nothing but watching me, he finally turns his attention back to my bleeding hand. He pulls the glass out and reaches over me to grab the first aid kit.
“What the hell happened?” Gunnar asks when he walks back into the room.
“I slipped and dropped a glass, cut my hand. I’m OK, but you’re going to be late for work.”
Gunnar hesitates, looking from me, to my hand that Dixon is still doctoring up, and back to my face. “You sure?” he asks, running his fingers gently over my cheek. Yeah, gently. I can practically hear Dixon laughing at me in his head.
“I got her, man,” Dixon speaks up, never taking his eyes off my hand. “Go to work.”
I try not to let Gunnar know that I’m nervous about being alone with Dixon. Looking up at him, I try my best to smile. “Go, I’m fine. I got called into work anyway so I won’t be here long.” Leaning in, he brushes his lips across mine before turning away and disappearing. Once the door shuts, and his truck pulls out, I finally breathe a bit easier. This is a hell of a lot harder than it should be.
“Your pulse is racin’, Kennedy.”
I pull my hand away and stand up to grab my keys the second I notice that Dixon is done taping the bandage in place. “No shit.”
“You’re going to have to learn to be a better liar than this.”
I glare at him. “I wouldn’t have to lie at all if—”
“If I didn’t fuck you,” he cuts me off and stands up. “Yeah, I get it, Kennedy. I’m the bad guy in this situation, feel free to blame me if it makes you feel better. But here’s the thing. I didn’t see you pushin’ me away very hard last night. I feel like shit about it too, but I know it was a choice that we both made. So you better learn to either lie better, or forget that it happened, because I’m not losin’ a friend because we fucked up.”
His words linger in the air between us for a few seconds before he turns and walks out. I wait for his truck to start and back out before heading for my car. I need to sort out the fucked up thoughts in my head. I need to hash this out with someone whose heart isn't on the line and can be completely rational without telling me I'm a total idiot, someone who won’t tell everyone who is willing to listen.
I need Lynsey.
***
“Was it good? Please tell me that he isn’t all talk and he can actually back up the shit he claims to be able to do.”
I stare blankly at Lynsey. After an hour of talking to her, trying hard not to cry over the mess I’ve made of my life with one stupid mistake, I’ve realized that she’s no more help than talking to myself. With her hands on her hips, she stares me down until I give in, cover my face, and nod.
“Fuck!” she groans loudly, fanning herself with one hand. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m married, Lyn. What do you think I’m going to do? I’m going to go home and hope and pray my husband never finds out. If it takes avoiding Dixon, that’s what I’ll do.”
“Oh yeah? And how the hell do you plan on doing that? We’re together all the time. It’s how it’s always been and if you suddenly start avoiding him, Gunnar is going to suspect something.”
“Well then what the hell do you think I should do? Walk in and say, ‘Hey guess what? Not only am I’m a cheating whore, but your best friend is a sleazy bastard’, and hope for the best?”
“No, that will do nothing but put you on the fast track to divorce court. You need to figure out what you’re going to do about it. It’s obvious to me that he gave you something you need that Gunnar doesn’t.”
“Gunnar gives me everything I need,” I lie.
“Oh bullshit. Even I know there’s something missing and it sure as fuck isn’t a damn baby. The last time I asked you to stock anal plugs I thought you were going to orgasm by just looking at them.”
My face heats and the bitch laughs at me. “So if you can realize it, and Dixon caught on without me saying anything, why doesn’t Gunnar notice it?”
“People only see what they want to see, babe, and he probably does see it but maybe he thinks it’s in his head and is afraid to say anything. He won’t change unless you speak up. Hell, he might not even change then because he’s comfortable with the way things are between you guys.” She shrugs and goes back to counting the bright orange Pocket Rocket vibrators on the shelf in front of her. “I say if you truly think Gunnar gives you everything you need and you’re still unsure, you do him again just to make sure that it was the alcohol. Maybe it’s something you just needed to get out of your system. I’ve told you before that I would take care of you if you needed something Gunnar wasn’t giving you.”
For the first time all day, I laugh. “I don’t need a Domme, Lyn. Thanks though.”
“Maybe not, but I think you need someone who isn’t going to treat you like you’re glass. Maybe that’s why you can’t stop thinking about it. Dixon’s never treated you like you were going to break.”
“I cheated on my husband, Lynsey!”
“Yeah, you did, and you know that I don’t condone going behind his back. Gunnar is my friend too, but it happened and it was either just a stupid mistake because of alcohol, or because he isn’t giving you something you need. You have to figure it out.” She stops what she’s doing again and turns around, crossing her arms over her chest. “And contrary to what you might think, you aren’t a bad person because you made a mistake. You can’t go through life making choices based on what other people are going to think of you. Yes, Gunnar makes you happy and you love him. I get that, and this situation doesn’t change that. But contrary to what Gunnar believes, it isn’t a baby that’s missing from your life right now. But if you go through life denying yourself something vital to your existence, and tell yourself that you don’t need it because you’re afraid of how it will make other people feel, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. You’ll be resentful toward Gunnar and yourself for suppressing something you need because you’re afraid of hurting him.
”
“I’m not a bad person?”
“Nope, not a bad person.”
“So what do I do now?” I ask.
“Whatever the hell you need to. Wanna keep living with that part of you missing? Go for it. But sooner or later, you’ll crack and fall apart. Think you need to fuck Dixon again and figure out if you need it? Or if it was something you just needed to get out of your system? Do it. Fuck him again and figure it out. Do whatever you want. Who the hell am I to judge anyone?”
“Enabler, much?” I ask, taking a deep breath.
“That may be the case, babe,” she agrees. “The thing is, I’m not gonna sugar coat it for you. You asked my opinion, there it is.”
As I had hoped, I breathe a bit easier after talking with Lynsey. Just knowing that I have her to talk to always makes decisions like this a bit easier, even if I don’t get a definitive answer. Ultimately, the choices make for my life are always left up to me. I may not know what to do yet, and I may still feel like shit for doing it behind Gunnar’s back, but her words continue to bounce around my head and make me feel a tiny bit better to have been able to talk it out some.
By the time I get home Gunnar still hasn’t gotten home from work. The house is quiet— too quiet—and the silence is deafening. The last thing I want to do is continue thinking about everything that happened last night. The memories will flood back vividly if I let them, and right now, I can’t let them. I’ve gone through every single emotion imaginable today leaving me wrecked beyond belief.
Putting my iPod on the deck, I blast my playlist and open all the windows, deciding that I’ll finish cleaning the house and make Gunnar’s favorite for dinner. I scrub the kitchen and bathrooms, mop all the floors, and start putting together a homemade lasagna for dinner. I mix up everything I need to make a loaf of the parmesan herb bread that he loves so much and put it in the oven before I start setting the table.
