7. Tangled

"Leave." My voice wavers. I wish it didn't. He hears it—I see it in the way his eyes search my face, waiting for me to take it back. But I steel myself, forcing my expression into something firm.

Slowly, his hands drop away from me. The warmth of his touch vanishes, replaced by a cold I wasn’t prepared for. "Okay," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment before he turns away.

His name slips from my lips before I can stop myself. "Bill..."

He pauses mid-step, his back still to me. For a moment, I think he’ll keep walking, pretend he didn’t hear me. But then, slowly, he turns. His eyes find mine—hesitation flickering behind them, maybe hope too.

I swallow hard, pulse hammering in my ears. "I..." The words tangle on my tongue, my throat tight. I don’t want him to go. Not like this. Not when everything inside me is screaming for him to stay.

"Don’t."

His brows draw together. "Don’t what?"

I exhale shakily. "Don’t go."

For a second, he just stares at me.

Then, in two quick strides, he’s in front of me. His hands grab my face, fingers threading into my hair, his lips crashing into mine.

A quiet gasp escapes me as I melt into him, my hands gripping his shirt, sliding lower, tugging at his belt, his zipper. A groan rumbles from his throat as he presses against me, his hands roaming, pulling me closer.

I wrap my hand around his hard dick, a sharp inhale leaving his lips, followed by a low, ragged moan that breaks our kiss for just a moment. His forehead rests against mine, his breath heavy, his hands tightening on my waist.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his voice strained, eyes dark with need as they flicker up to meet mine. His grip on me tightens, and then he crashes his lips back onto mine.

Then he exhales, his lips trailing along my cheek, my jaw, my neck—soft, lingering touches that contrast the urgency between us. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers against my skin.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding. "Then show me."

He slides my panties down slowly, his fingers grazing my skin. As they pool at my feet, I step out of them.

In one smooth motion, he lifts me. My breath catches, hands clinging to him. I never realized how strong he was—until now, as he carries me toward the couch.

When he lays me down, his body follows, pressing against mine, solid and warm. My pulse stutters, my breath shallow as the space between us disappears.

Our bodies move together effortlessly, heat and tension intertwining. His breath is hot against my skin, his hands roaming, memorizing. I arch into him, my fingers tracing the muscles of his back, memorizing every inch as if I could etch him into my very being.

He whispers my name, his voice rough, needy. The sound sends a thrill through me, making my body ache for more.

He teases me, his lips hovering just above mine, but I don’t hesitate—I pull him closer, seeking more, needing more. His grip tightens, a quiet groan escaping as desire simmers between us.



As we lay there, on our sides, our bodies still connected. My skin hums, oversensitive to every shift, every brush of his fingers as they lazily trace patterns along my back. My chest rises and falls in time with his.

A satisfied sigh escapes me as he pulls me closer, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my temple.

I don’t want to move. I don’t want this moment to end.

And from the way his arms tighten around me, I know he feels the same.

I don’t know how long we stay like this, wrapped in each other, but eventually, Bill is the first to pull back—just slightly. His gaze meets mine, a small smile playing on his lips as his thumb glides gently over my cheek.

"I'm breaking up with Wes." My voice is soft, steady. My fingers trace slow circles along his back.

His expression changes. "Do you love him?" His voice is quiet.

My throat tightens, the words sticking. I drop my gaze to his chest, swallowing hard. "I did," I admit. "Or at least, I thought I did. But never the way I love you."

"Hey." He tilts my chin up until our eyes meet again. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I nod without hesitation. "I should’ve done it a long time ago, honestly."

His brows knit together. "Why?"

A heavy sigh escapes me. "He's a good man, but… not the best partner. We barely talk, we don’t do things together, and the sex—" I stop, uncertain how to finish.

Bill raises an eyebrow. "What about it?"

I hesitate, and when I don’t answer, he smirks. "Not enough?"

I let out a dry laugh. "Oh, we had plenty. That wasn’t the problem."

His amusement fades slightly. "Then what was?"

I exhale slowly. "It was just… a lack of orgasms."

Bill stares at me for a moment, then lets out a low chuckle. "You’re kidding."

I shake my head. "Not once in two years."

His face shifts from disbelief to something darker, something almost frustrated. "So you just… never?"

"Oh, I had them," I say quickly. "Just… not because of him."

His expression tightens. "Wait. Did you—?" He hesitates. "Did you cheat on him?"

"No! Never." I pause, my stomach twisting. "Well… I guess now I did. With you."

Relief flickers in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, just pulls me closer.

I exhale deeply. "You have to go."

His arms tense around me. "Wes will be home any minute, and I need to talk to him. Break up with him."

Bill nods slowly. "Will you be okay? You still have my number? Call me if you need me."

I nod. "It'll be fine. Wes is… different. He never gets angry. He’s never even raised his voice at me."

"Will you tell him about us?"

I shake my head. "No. You’re not the reason I’m breaking up with him. Not really, anyway."

Bill watches me for a moment, then finally lets go.

We stand from the couch, straightening our clothes. His fingers brush against mine before he leans in, pressing one last kiss to my lips.

I sink onto the couch, exhaling slowly as I stare out the window. Wes’s shift at the hospital is almost over. He’ll be here any minute now.

The sound of tires crunching on the driveway makes my pulse quicken. I jump up, breath catching in my throat as his car comes to a stop.

A moment later, the front door swings open. Wes steps inside, his expression weary but soft as he takes in the sight of me. Before he can speak, I force the words out.

"Wes, we need to talk." My pulse pounds—This is it.