My cock twitches, and I clear my throat to cut through the heavy, tense atmosphere.
Why do I enjoy the way he’s looking at my wife like a delicious snack?
I shouldn’t. I should hate it, maybe even feel threatened by it. But instead, it coils low in my stomach—something dark and thrilling.
“What you saw was completely consensual and planned by yours truly,” I tell him, keeping my voice light. “I like watchingher be desired by other men. It’s intoxicating. But don’t mistake it for something secretive,” I finish, my eyes boring into his.
His gaze hardens again, but there’s something else beneath it, a trace of vulnerability I haven’t seen in years.
“Clearly,” he says, his eyes lingering on Sophie a little too long. “I should go. Have a good night.” Turning to face Sophie, I see the way his eyes soften for her. “The party is great, Soph. You outdid yourself.”
With one last look at me, he begins to walk away.
When he’s a few feet away, Sophie takes my hand and clears her throat. She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, I pull her body into mine and kiss her.
She moans, her hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer, and when my eyes flutter open—just as my tongue brushes against hers—I see him.
Kai stands at the top of the stairs, frozen, his gaze locked on us, his expression a dark storm of emotions. His jaw tightens and yet he doesn’t look away. Hecan’t.His stare feels like an accusation and a confession all at once, as though he’s both furious and interested.
Like he’s unable to extricate himself from the scene unfolding before him.
I meet his gaze and, for a brief, reckless moment, I don’t stop.
I should stop. I know I should.
But I don’t.
I want to see how far this stretches.
My fingers tighten on Sophie’s hips as I grind my hard cock against her, lifting her dress just enough for my intentions to be clear. A spark of defiance flares in me as I hold his gaze, a silent challenge I barely understand myself. Her soft gasp escapes as I nuzzle into her neck, feeling her shudder beneath me.
“Julian,” she whimpers, her voice a delicate mix of need and surprise. But my attention is somewhere else now. I can barelyhear her as I watch Kai’s reaction, my own pulse quickening in ways I didn’t expect. His lips part, his breath catching as he watches us, his grip tightening on the banister, knuckles white. Sophie moans again, but I’m focused on Kai—the sharp, almost pained expression flickering across his face as he watches me touch my wife.
I swear I see something unraveling in him.
Does he like this? Does it make him angry? Jealous?
I push Sophie against the wall.
If he’s jealous, why does that excite me so much? Kai’s grip tightens on the banister.
He could leave.
He should.
But he doesn’t.
His gaze lowers for half a second, taking in the way her legs part, the way my hand presses between them. It hits me like a punch to the gut. I want him to want this. To want her.
To wantus.
These feelings have been creeping up on me since he showed up again—these stray thoughts I thought I’d buried. The way his hand brushed against mine in the kitchen last week, the ease in how he touched Sophie when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
The way Sophie’s cheek had been smudged with white paint, and how Kai wiped it away with his thumb, so natural and intimate.
The way Kai focused intently on aligning the shelves, his brow furrowed and lips pursed in concentration, had me swallowing hard more than once.
The way he wiped paint from his hands onto an old rag, the veins in his forearms standing out as he worked with meticulous precision, left me unable to focus on anything else for the rest of the day.
