“And what, exactly, do you think is going on?”
Julian’s voice cuts through the quiet hallway, and both Kai and I turn to find him standing a few feet away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FANTASY
Julian
“What’s going on?” I ask, coming to stand beside Sophie.
Kai stands less than a foot away. His shoulders are tense, and his gaze flicks back and forth between us as though he’s witnessing a moment he shouldn’t be. He shifts his weight before crossing his arms tightly over his chest, a protective shield. His eyes dart away every time they land on me, then reluctantly return to Sophie, as if he’s not sure where to look—or where he belongs in this exchange.
“Kai saw me kissing…” Sophie trails off, and when I look up at Kai, his jaw hardens.
“Ah,” I say, smiling as I face him. “And you thought I’d ever allow another man to touch my wife without my explicit permission?”
Kai’s lips part. “You knew? So, what? Is it like a game, or are you guys in an open marriage?” Before I can respond, he holds a hand up. “You know what? As I told Sophie, I don’t want or need to know. I don’t want to get caught up in whatever the fuck is going on.”
Just as he moves, I grab him to keep him from walking away. As my fingers wrap around Kai’s hand, an electric current shoots through the space between us, startling me in its intensity. I can feel the rough calluses from him working with his hands. The veins and cords along the back of his hand, thick and bulging.
He stops mid-stride, his body tensing as he glances down at our joined hands, his face momentarily unguarded. For half a second, the angry and frustrated expression is replaced by something softer, something almost familiar. His fingers twitch against mine, like he’s deciding whether to pull away or hold on.
I remember the last time I held his hand like this. It was summer. Crestwood was hot, and we’d been tipsy, laughing over nothing in particular, our fingers brushing and lingering in the dark on the grounds of Ravage Castle, weeks before our freshman year at uni together.
Our eyes meet, and it’s as if the years between us vanish, pulling me back to late-night talks and the hesitant, stolen moment we’d shared in our college dorm. I remember when he kissed me—how I’d paced the hallway, every nerve buzzing with the possibility of what we could be.
And then he walked away like it never happened.
Likewenever happened.
For a long time, I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it, and part of me still feels that loss, buried under the years but never entirely gone.
Kai’s expression shifts, his guard wavering as he studies me. I can see the confusion there, the wariness laced with a hint of something warmer. He swallows, a hint of something that might be regret or longing passing over his face before he glances away. I know he remembers too. He must.
“Kai… Sophie is a hotwife. Do you know what that is?” I ask, voice softer.
He pulls his hand back, slowly, as if reluctant to break the connection but too wary to let it linger.
“No.”
“Julian…” Sophie’s voice is sharp with warning.
I shrug. “He thinks he saw something he didn’t. I think we owe him an explanation, don’t you?”
She swallows, and I can sense the hesitation in her stance, the blush slowly creeping up the fair skin of her neck and onto her cheeks. But there’s no going back now.
It strikes me then that Sophie is ashamed to tell him. I can’t fault her. Until this moment, we’d managed to keep this secret from everyone in our personal life.
“Tell me,” he says, looking right at Sophie. His tone isn’t demanding. It’scurious. Maybe even a little intrigued. And there, in the way he’s not hiding his feelingsat all, I see it—the way his eyes skim over her full lips, the way he takes a subtle step closer to her.
“It means Julian likes to watch me sleep with other men,” she tells him.
Kai’s body stiffens. His gaze locks onto hers, and for a split second, I watch the realization crash through him.
I watch him.Reallywatch him.
His pupils dilate. There’s something in his eyes—possession.Lust.
