Page 82 of No Turning Back
“Holy shit,” she mumbles against the pillow. “Where have you been hiding the beast?”
I laugh, the sound rumbling through me. “Too much?”
She shakes her head, smiling through her panting. “Let me catch my breath, then I’ll show you mine.”
My chest tightens at the promise. I kiss her shoulder, still tasting salt on her skin.
“I’m serious,” I murmur. “Was it too much?”
Quinn turns in my arms, her face flushed, lips swollen, hair wild. More beautiful than ever.
“Sam,” she says softly, touching my cheek. “That was exactly what I needed.”
The words hit deep. I pull her close, pressin’ a kiss to her forehead as she settles against me, our hearts still racing in sync.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” I whisper. “Even when you were with him.”
She lifts her gaze, eyes steady. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I couldn’t be the guy who came between you and your marriage. Even if I knew he was wrong for you.”
“And now?” she asks.
“Now I’m never lettin’ you go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Quinn
Sam sets a mug down in front of Mike.
“You really had no idea?” Sam asks, voice low but steady.
Mike… Michael, though he hates when anyone calls him that, shakes his head slowly. He looks tired, older than he should, shoulders sagging like the weight of the truth is pulling him down.
“I always thought my dad was… well, my dad,” he says. His voice trails off, like the rest of the sentence is too sharp to speak aloud.
Instead, he forces out: “I mean, my life was already in the dump. Divorced, disgraced. I thought he called me in to tell me he was disappointed. Not that he wasn’t my biological father. Not that he wanted me to get help before I turned into him.”
I tilt my head, watching him. There’s shame written all over his face, his hands wrapped tight around the mug like it’s the only thing holding him together.
“I cheated on my wife,” he says finally, eyes fixed on the table.
The words land like a punch. I can’t hide the expression that flashes across my face, but he pushes forward anyway, like confession is the only way out.
“With her sister,” he adds. “She was nineteen.”
My stomach turns. Jeez. It just keeps getting worse.
Sam and I share a look, one of those silent exchanges that says everything without words. Mike catches it.
“It was consensual,” he blurts quickly, lifting his head, eyes flashing with desperate insistence. “I know how it sounds, but I would never…”
He cuts himself off, jaw tight, shame and defensiveness fighting for control.
I sit back in my chair, heart thudding, wondering how much darker this story is going to get.
I clear my throat and ask, “I emailed you a while back. What made you finally answer?”
