Had the walls in Gwen’s bedroom always been blue? Deacon could’ve sworn they were green. The sheets were definitely new. She used to have ones with tiny roses on them. Now they were white. 

Everything felt awkward or out of place or… just wrong. 

Wrong wrong wrong.

Every sound Gwen made was too loud, grating on his ears like cutlery scraping an empty plate. It used to drive him mad but now he wished she’d just sigh or whisper or do something besides moan like this was the best sex she’d ever had because even he knew he was half-assing it.

He was just wrecked. Or maybe it was the alcohol he’d downed on the plane. 

Her breasts were too big. What was he thinking? That was a good thing. Not a bloody problem.

Her hips were too slim where they gripped his own.

A voice roared inside his head, telling him to stop. But he didn’t. He screwed his eyes shut and kept going. 

This was what he needed.

Alex was probably over there right now... making Vivienne sigh and shiver and—

Shit.

“Dash?” 

“What?” It took a moment for him to realize Gwen had stopped moving. 

She was looking down at him through wide turquoise eyes that he wished were brown, her perfect body on full display, highlighted by the sunlight streaming through the window. “Are you all right? You look like you’re in pain.”

She shifted her hips, taking him in deeper... He was close. So bloody close. A few more thrusts and it would all be over.

If he told her the truth, she’d be devastated. The whole way over here she’d talked nonstop about how much she’d missed him and how she’d counted down the days until he arrived and their plans for the holidays and—

Why hadn’t he stopped her there? 

Why hadn’t he just explained that his thoughts were consumed with someone else? Why hadn’t he done them both a favor and asked her to drop him off at his mother’s?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I’m fine,” he lied, lifting his hips to meet hers.

Her red lips curved in a knowing smile as she rocked forward. 

Deacon closed his eyes and imagined she was someone else.

The moment he finished, she rolled off of him and fell onto the bed, blond hair splayed across the white pillowcase. Her tinkling laugh made him shudder. 

He gave himself to the count of one hundred before sliding to the end of the bed and collecting his clothes from the floor. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gwen asked, her voice thick, her breathing heavy.

He shoved his feet into the legs of his pants. “My mother’s.”

“You’re not staying?”

The answer to that question was fairly obvious. “No. I’m not.”

He put on his shirt and jeans and—where were his socks? He scanned the rug and was about to check beneath the bed when something soft hit him in the back of the head. His socks fell onto the floor beside his foot. “Thanks,” he muttered, picking them up. Gwen had rolled them together in a ball. 

“For the sox or the sex?” she clipped. 

He didn’t glance back for fear she’d see his pained wince. “For both.”

He knew he was being an asshole as he got up and left without a backwards glance.

He knew it and did it anyway.

Because being an asshole was easier than telling the truth.

And if Gwen asked him again, he would tell her the truth. He would tell her that he wasn’t interested in her anymore. And no matter how much he apologized, she’d still be hurt. And she’d probably cry. He always felt so helpless when women cried.

It was a brisk fifteen minute walk to his mother’s townhouse. He focused on the sound of his suitcase wheels rolling along the footpath instead of his muddled thoughts. Once he got some sleep, he’d feel better. He had to. Because it would be a long month if he didn’t.  

His mobile dinged when he reached his mother’s stoop. 

It was probably Gwen telling him things he already knew. 

Only it wasn’t Gwen’s name on the screen. 

It was Vivienne’s.

Deep, sharp pain twisted in his stomach, like he’d been stabbed. 

He clicked on the message and winced. WTF Deacon!!!

Shit. She knew. How did she find out? Gwen didn’t even know Vivienne existed, so she couldn’t have told her.

Three dots appeared, and he held his breath as he waited. His heart hammered in his chest and then his mobile dinged and—

You gave me a hickey!!!

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face or the warmth that settled in his bones. He’d wondered how long it’d take her to find the love bite. He texted back a winking kissing emoji.

If only he was around to give her a few more... in places not so easily found.

What was he thinking?

After what he’d just done, she’d never want to speak to him again.

The warmth in his body leached into the damp air as he dragged his keys from his bag. 

He needed a shower and some sleep. Then he’d figure out how to fix this bloody mess he’d gotten himself into.