MOIRA

The path narrows the farther we go, the sound of the ocean deepening into a constant, pulsing rush somewhere ahead. My dress clings to my legs with every step, the hem catching on wild grass and thorny stems that scratch against my skin. Grant walks a few feet ahead, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the sun.

We’ve barely spoken since the kiss, since he muttered those words to me.

I’m not pretending anymore.

And I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing.

“Do you know where we’re going?” I call out, stepping over a jagged rock.

“Nope.”

“Fantastic. So we’re probably walking to an unsteady cliff that’ll crumble from beneath us.”

His head tips just enough for me to catch the curve of a smirk before he looks forward again. “Stop worrying so much. Just trust me for once, wife.”

I almost trip over my own foot at the word. “Stop calling me that.”

The path finally spills into an open stretch of stone, warm from the afternoon sun. It juts out toward the ocean, as if nature carved it for two people to disappear. Secluded, far from the rest of the beach, the water below churns in deep blues and foaming whites, the spray cool and sharp when the wind catches it just right.

I take a slow step forward, the soles of my sandals scuffing over the gritty surface. “Okay... I’ll admit that it’s beautiful.”

Grant’s gaze flicks over me, unreadable, before he drops down onto the rock. “Knew it would be.”

I roll my eyes but sit anyway, pulling my knees up. For a moment, it’s quiet except for the waves, and something in my chest loosens.

Until his words echo in my head once more.

Without a second thought, I turn toward him.

“So, not pretending anymore?” I ask him.

His mouth forms a tight line. “You caught that?”

“How could I not?”

He sighs, glancing over the shoreline. “I’ve always had something for you, Moira,” he says softly, as if he doesn’t want to admit it. “Never thought my brother deserved you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks at me like I have two heads. “You were my brother’s girlfriend. His fiancée. Why would I do that?”

I shrug. “Would have been better than you being an asshole to me all this time.”

“I was mad I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

“And you always seem to get what you want.” I stare at him, his eyes searching through mine.

He nods. “I do.”

Without meaning to, I shift closer to him. “And I’ve never tried to get what I want. It’s always been decided for me by others.”

“That’s no way to live,” he says, staring down at my mouth. “You should go after what you want. Don’t let anyone else stop you.”

The burning undercurrent of our conversation doesn’t go unnoticed, not by either of us.

Before rethinking it, I lift myself and swing my leg over Grant’s, positioning myself in his lap. He stiffens, his breath catching in his chest as he looks up at me.

“What do you want?” he asks after a moment.

“What I shouldn’t.”

I place a hand on his chest, the heat in my body climbing higher and higher the more I feel his cock stiffening against my center.

“But you need to know something.”

“What’s that?” His hands remain at his sides, as if one wrong move will have me rethinking my decision.

“I’m... not as experienced as you.” I swallow thickly. “I’ve only been with two others, including your brother.”

I laugh hoarsely at that, but Grant doesn’t look like he wants to laugh. He looks like he wants to devour me alive. His nostrils flare, his jaw tensing.

“Why would I care?” he asks, his voice rough.

I meet his eyes. “Because you’ve probably been with countless women.” I roll my lip through my teeth. “I might not be good,” I say softly.

“The fact that you’re you makes you so much better than them,” he admits.