“Okay,” I whisper, not trusting my voice enough to betray the fact I’m crying. “I’ll come home.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
I don’t say anything. I hang up as quickly as possible just as my phone vibrates with another phone call.
This time, it’s the last person I want to speak to.
Dean.
Wiping my tears away with a Kleenex, I power down my phone, gather my items, and get the fuck out of my office, ignoring my assistant when she tries to speak to me.
Twenty minutes later, I’m home. My tears are long gone, but I wonder if Declan will be able to see the guilt written all over my face. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from him.
I've never been a liar, but with each passing day, I'm becoming more of one.
I cautiously step inside our condo, unaware of what I will find inside. I’ve witnessed the aftermath of Declan’s temper before. The broken TVs, the holes in the wall, broken picture frames and vases, and empty bottles of liquor. I’ve seen it all before with him. Although he’s never hurt me, I can’t say the same for our furniture.
Stepping inside, I’m relieved to find nothing is broken, nor are there liquor bottles anywhere.
What I do find is Declan sitting in the middle of our gray sectional in the living room with his head in his hands. I close the front door with a soft click, causing my faithful husband to look up at me with sad, remorseful brown eyes.
Quickly, he stands and rushes toward me. Dropping my purse to the floor, I fling myself at him. We collide, our arms wrapping around each other in a tight embrace.
Losing Declan would be like losing my best friend.
But losing Dean would be like losing a piece of myself.
I’m in the middle of two men I care deeply about.
One man I’m in love with, have always been in love with, and the other, a man I love deeply… but a man I’m not in lovewith.
And I don’t think I ever have been.
“Camille, we need to talk.” Declan cups my face, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath fanning against my lips. My hands find his waist, fisting his T-shirt tightly.
I know what he’s going to say. It’s a conversation we’ve been avoiding for far too long, and it’s inevitable. When two people are not meant to be, there’s no way to prevent the ending that’s bound to happen.
A wave of guilt washes over me. “Declan, I love you.” I choke on a sob. He doesn't deserve an unfaithful wife. We have our issues, but we never stray outside of our marriage.
“I know you do, baby girl. I love you, too.” He presses his lips against mine, stealing my breath with his kiss. “Let’s shower, and then we’ll talk.” I nod, letting him guide me into our master bathroom.
With gentle fingers, he undresses me slowly, then undresses himself. He even takes the time to untie my hair and let it fall down my shoulders.
It doesn't occur to me that I might have evidence of Dean still on my body until we step under the shower spray and Declan's eyes roam my body inch by inch.
He doesn't look in my eyes. His dark eyes stay focused on my bare body, and his eyebrows are pulled together tightly in a deep V. Silently, he grabs a washcloth, squeezes soap onto it, rubs it between his hands to create a lather, then massages it gently over my body, focusing primarily between my legs.
His eyes never leave my body.
The body that only hours earlier was being kissed and worshipped by another man.
Declan still cannot look at me as he washes between my legs, taking extra time to clean my cunt. With the way he's cleaning me, I realize that he knows.
He knows where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing.
He straightens to his full height, his eyes finally connecting with mine for the first time. In his dark brown eyes, I see my betrayal. His face is stoic, but his eyes give him away.
With a gulp, I open my mouth to speak, but he shuts me up by shaking his head. I remain silent, not wanting to push him, watching his movements closely.