"Ethical non-monogamy," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "People do it. People make it work. You already got proof she loves you. She also loves him. And instead of sneaking behind your back, she came to you about it. She gave you the choice."
I clenched my jaw. "That ain't love, Val."
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, but you cheating on her was? That was love?"
My whole body went tight.
"That was different," I muttered.
"How?" she challenged. "You stepped out on your marriage without telling her, without giving her a choice. And she forgave you. But now she’s asking for something that makes her happy, something that’s honest, and suddenly it’s a betrayal?"
I blew out a harsh breath, dragging my fingers through my hair.
"It’s not about that," I said, my voice strained. "I just don’t know if I can do it, forever." Watching them fuck was one thing; I could get over that. Sex was just sex. But watching them be in love hurt.
"Then talk to him," she said simply. "Figure out your boundaries. Figure out what Jordin needs from both of you. And open your fucking mouth and tell them what you need."
"And if I can’t?"
She sighed. "Then walk away."
fourty six- Oak
The first thing I felt was warmth spreading through my body when I woke up—or really, I was snatched from sleep by the feeling.
I blinked against the early morning light, my body responding before my mind could catch up. All I could do was feel. The warm, wet slide of her mouth on my dick, the press of her fingers digging into my thighs, the way she was taking her time. Up and down. Slow and patient. Heat threatened to singe my insides.
She hummed against my shaft, sending vibrations through my entire body. She pulled back, her tongue teasing the sensitive tip before her lips slid back down. She watched me through her lashes.
“Shit, Jordin…” My voice was hoarse, still thick with sleep.
She did this thing with her tongue that curled my toes before she pulled back to look at me.
“Morning,” she whispered, kissing the head.
I stared, caught between dream and reality, pleasure and doubt. When I’d gone to bed after talking to Valentina, Jordin had been sleeping in the other room after crying for hours. This wasn’t how I expected to wake up.
I wanted to stay in this moment, to let her pull me under. But I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“Jordin… what are you doing?”
She tilted her head, her fingers trailing up my stomach, nails dragging over my skin. “Apologizing.”
I sat up slightly, reaching for her and pulling her up my body so she lay on top of me, my grip firm on her hips. I exhaled through my nose when she shifted, straddling me fully, the heat of her making me grind my teeth.
“Apologizing for what?” It was trivial, but I needed to hear her say it.
She didn’t answer right away. She just held my face, her thumb grazing my jaw, her gaze sweeping over me like she was weighing her words.
“For taking my frustration out on you. For not considering your feelings. For making you feel like you don’t matter,” she said finally.
I froze, something in me locking up.
Because that was exactly what I’d been feeling. Like I was just here. A safe, familiar placeholder.
I sat back against the headboard, studying her. “And now?”
She swallowed, searching my face. “Now,” she whispered, “we work on us. Whether Ciarán comes back or not.”
