Fuck. This is not how I wanted her to find out. I didn’t want her to find out at all. I wasn’t sure
how I wanted to play this all out. From the moment I figured out that my perfect beauty was
Arianna, I told myself it had to be a one - time thing. I told mys elf we had already crossed a line,
that me denying us both the pleasure we deserved wouldn’t change anything. We’d find the
mind - altering pleasure we were capable of with each other and go our s eparate ways. But then
she asked me to show her. So vulnerably . So beautifully. It was like she reached inside my head
and spoke the one thing that brought my inner Dom to his knees. This beautiful, perfect girl
wanted to learn, to explore, and she wanted me to be the one to teach her. How could I have
possibly turne d that down? I told her to meet me back here tonight which was so fucking
stupid. I talked myself out of coming so many times throughout the week. I know how wrong it
is, sick maybe, but the mental images had been burned into my head from that night with h er,
the noises she made, the way she responded so well to me. It was addictive, and I needed
more. Don’t worry, I berated myself up, down, and sideways when I realized the woman I was
lusting over was none other than my ex - wife’s daughter. My ex - st epdaught er, I suppose. Arianna
was fifteen when I met Kelly, so it’s not like I raised her or anything. Still, I know her well enough
to know that I’m going to fucking burn in hell for this.
I know her enough to know that she doesn’t like the taste or smell of coffee. I know that she has
to eat breakfast in the mornings, or she’ll get sick. I know that she has always had a desire to be
a photographer, even if her mother tried to squash those d reams every chance she got. Above
all, I know her sparrow tattoo that she came home with during her senior year. Her mom nearly
had an aneurysm over it, and they didn’t speak for days. The horror on Arianna’s face tells me
that despite our insanely powerfu l chemistry, it isn’t enough to wash away what we are to each
other, or at least what we were. Still are? Fuck, I don’t know. But she looks ready to bolt now
that the mask has quite literally been ripped off. “L - logan? You... and me... oh my god!” she gasps
as h er chest begins to heave. I watch as she looks around frantically, her breathing becoming
choppier and shallower. She always used to get the worst panic attacks, and it looks like she’s
teetering on the edge of one right now. Going against my better judgme nt, I close the distance
between us, cupping her face with my hands as I force her eyes to look at me. I push away the
silver mask she was wearing, revealing her perfect porcelain skin. Something hits me square in
the chest when I look at her without her m ask. Like the two versions of her are colliding before
me. The Arianna I know, and the Sparrow I met inside this club. Two totally different women,
two totally different feelings for each. All of it melding before my eyes. I feel my own heart rate
spike as I allow the gravity of our situation to sink in. Her breathing is still labored, but her eyes
are on mine as I slowly brush my thumb over her lower lip. I don’t mean to, but for some
reason, I can’t stop myself. The softness of her lips, the full shape, and beautiful color has me
mesmerized. It takes me a moment to realize her breathing has steadied
and her body is less tense. Something like pride fills me that I was able to bring her back, even if
I didn’t really do anything but touch her. “How long?” she whispers. “How long what?” I ask
with a small frown. “How long did you know?” I roll my lips aga inst each other before answering
truthfully. “Your tattoo.” Her eyes widen slightly as understanding passes across her face. She
still hasn’t pulled away from me, so that’s a good sign, right? Do I want her
to pull away from me? The answer should be yes. Hell fucking yes. I should be r epulsed,
disgusted. I should be begging her to run far and fast, to take her and her alluring body as far
from me as possible. She’s twenty - five years younger than me, she’s my ex - wife’s daughter,
she’s... Arianna. It's fucked up, so fucked up, but when I tighten my grip on her face and I feel her
press against my touch just slightly, it has something primal in me coming to life. Then, as if
she’s been snapped out of this spell betw een us, she’s gone. Running. Sprinting away from me.
She barely has enough time to gather up her dress before she darts into the elevator, quickly
slipping it on before the doors shut, leaving me with a disgusted and almost disappointed look
to remember he r by as she disappears. I’m staring at the screen in front of me, but my brain
refuses to compute the useless words no matter how hard I try to focus. It’s been two days
since I saw Arianna. She ran like hell, and I let her, because what the fuck else was I supposed to
do? I had no right to chase after her, to want to. Hell, I had no right to have her in the first place,
but I already had. Couldn’t take that back if I wanted. Not like I would. Call it what you want, an
obsession, a distraction, a sick addic tion, it doesn’t matter. I’ve never felt so connected, so
fulfilled with anyone in my life, her mother definitely included. It wasn’t just sex, it was
everything. It was the way she moved, the way she carried herself, the way she spoke. She’s so
beautiful, so flawless, so full of potential. I can’t help but want to test her limits, push her past
her breaking point, and show her what it’s like to really live. Fuck. No. I have to let it go, have to
let her go. Things inside the club seemed so perfect, so easy . Outside those walls is an entirely
different beast. Hence the forbidden appeal. “Mr. Cunningham, I have Mr. Langford on the
phone?” my secretary Debra says through the intercom.
Christ. He’s the last person I want to talk to right now. He’s one of our best clients and is
basically ke eping this firm afloat with his business alone. I don’t have the patience or focus to
deal with his eccentricities today, though. “I’m out of office,” I say back to her, my typical code
for I don’t want to be disturbed. She doesn’t respond, likely already getting rid of him for at
least the day. I dig my fingers into my hair, trying to banish the look of bright blue eyes popping
into my head, her slim n eck, silky black hair, and flawless skin. Goddamnit. I’m not hard up for
women. I’ve been with plenty before her, and I can get anyone I desire with the snap of my
fingers. Whether it’s thanks to my obscenely large bank account, my classical good looks, or my
power as Seattle’s top defense attorney, it doesn’t matter. People ar e attracted to power, and
I’m just as powerful in the bedroom as I am in the courtroom. I know I sound like an arrogant
ass, and maybe I am. The problem is that I’m used to getting my way, to getting what I want. I
tap my finger against my desk, my restrai nt waning before I slam my fist against my desk. Fuck.
As if some sick twist of fate, my phone buzzes to life, a text from Kelly, of all people. Kelly: I
rented the lake house for the week, just like old times. You should come. I miss you. She has
been try ing to get back with me ever since I caught her with one of her clients. She is a real
estate agent, and when one open house seemed to be going really well, I got out of court early
and showed up to lend a hand. Imagine my
surprise when I found her bent over a baby grand piano, moaning like a goddamn porn star. I
filed for divorce within the hour and never looked back. She hasn’t been able to do the same,
though. She drunk dials me often, telling me she’s still in love with me and she will never love
again. I don’t believe a goddamn word she says. She misses the money and the sex, but there’s
nothing else to it. I should have blocked her years ago, but at this moment, I’m glad I didn’t.
Temptation sits there, so close I can n early touch it. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m
responding to her.
Me: Who will be there? I love that house, I really do. We had some great times on the lake. It’s
about an hour outside of Seattle, and the place is like a little slice of paradise. We used to rent it
every spring break and go up there with my brother, her sister and husband, and... Arianna. She
responds almost immediately, no doubt shocked that I’ve responded for the first time in over
eighteen months. Kelly: The usual. Marissa and Tom, their kids, and Ari. Ari. Fuck. That should
be reason enough for me to pas s, so why the fuck is it the reason I’m wanting to go? Kelly:
Please come, Logan. It will be a lot of fun. No pressure. I’m not an idiot. If I say yes, Kelly will
take the opportunity to seduce me every moment she can. She’ll try to get me into bed with he r
and hope that I’ll just forget the betrayal. The problem with her plan is that I realized once the
ink had dried and the divorce was finalized, I never really loved her. I loved the idea of her. She
was good for my ego, a beautiful trophy wife. I was a d ifferent man back then. I’ve grown,
changed, maybe for the worse, since the only reason I’m even interested in allowing her back
into my life is so I can get just another moment with Arianna. With all the red flags waving
wildly in my face, I’m responding before I can stop myself. Me: I’m in.