Evangeline

My senses are on overload. I don't know what to say or how to move. I don't think I could speak even if I wanted to. The same goes for moving—Carter has me in a solid hold. His hand wrapped around my throat makes everything fuzzy and light. I can breathe fine, but the confident command of his grasp unlocks something inside of me. It makes me theirs.


'Up on your tiptoes, doll," Carter says.

As soon as I obey, the head of his cock presses against my entrance. Leonard removes his fingers. When I flick my gaze down, I can see him watching me. He's jacking himself, using my arousal as lubrication.

Fuck. It's so freaking hot, I think I'm going to combust.


Carter pushes inside, filling me with his thickness. He keeps my neck under his control as he strokes in and out, and Leonard leans forward to start licking me once more.

I don't stand a chance. Even if I wanted to hold back my orgasm, it would be impossible. I give in, allowing them to control my pleasure as my muscles tense and release, bliss rippling through me in waves.


'Oh, doll," Carter says. 'I knew you'd come so pretty for us."

He presses open-mouthed kisses to my neck, tugging on my necklace as he does. Leonard grunts out his orgasm, and then Carter strokes a few more times before he comes, too.

'I know what you were doing," I say as Carter pulls out of me and Leonard goes to my bathroom. I lean my head back against Carter's shoulder.

'What were we doing?" Carter asks.

Leonard emerges with a wet washcloth, which he uses between my legs. He says, 'Yeah, what do you think we were doing, Trouble?"

'You invented some crazy competition with a guy thousands of miles away, and you just had to prove you could get me off better than he could."

'Nah," Leonard says. 'He's merely another excuse for us to touch you."

But they don't need an excuse. I welcome their touches, their admiration and approval.

I need that approval like I need air or water, and that need is something I despise about myself. It's sick, but I don't know how to stop it.

Also, I think—no, I know—I love these men. But they could never feel the same, so I'll be taking the knowledge of my love to the grave.

'I…I have to get ready," I say.

'Where are you going?" Carter asks.

I don't bother trying to hide the glum tone in my voice when I say, 'Coffee with my mom."

She texted me yesterday, wanting to chat about the wedding. Speaking of my sick need for approval, I see it with her, too.

Leonard fiddles with the key on my necklace, tracing the shape against my chest. 'You don't have to meet your mom if you don't want to."

'I know that," I say.

'Do you?" He arches an eyebrow.

'Yeah, I do." I frown when he continues to look skeptical. 'I do."

'Okay, Trouble." He drops the key and pulls me into a hug, kisses my forehead. 'Go on and meet your mom, then. Tell her I say hey."

Does he know how loaded of a greeting that would be? I know about what happened between Mom's friend's sister and him.

While I gape at him, wondering if I should tell him what I know, Carter smacks my ass and whirls me into a hug. 'See you later, doll."

* * *

Evangeline

I bike downtown, unwilling to pay for a ride and equally unwilling to ask Leonard or Carter to drive me. I don't know what my mom would say if I rolled up with one or both of them.

But I shouldn't have worried about it, because I arrive before she does. I go inside the coffee shop, inhaling the scents of sugar and rich grounds. After I get myself an iced tea, I settle myself at a table near the window. There's no text from my mom, but there's still that text from Thomas I ignored earlier. Sighing, I click on it. There are a few messages.

Babe, I miss you.

Ew. I can practically hear the oily tone of his voice, even though the words are just text on a screen.

Can we talk? I made a mistake.

Fuck yeah, he made a mistake. He's disgusting, and now he's with my sister. I can't believe Chanel would even want him after he cheated with her. What's the old phrase? When the mistress gets the man, it creates a vacancy.

Is Thomas trying to fill that vacancy with…me? Does he want to yo-yo back and forth Chanel and me, cheating and apologizing, rinse and repeat?

Before I can go into full-on panic mode, my mom bustles into the coffee shop.

'Evangeline," she says, but her smile falls when she sees my lone iced tea on the table. 'You didn't order for me?"

'Oh…sorry. I didn't know what you wanted." Also, I don't have a lot of extra money right now. But I don't say that part.

She sighs and straightens her shoulders. 'I'll be right back, then."

I absently listen to her give the barista a set of complicated instructions involving substitutions and specific measurements. Inwardly, I wince. There's nothing wrong with asking for what you want, but the way Mom does it comes across as entitled and demeaning.

Finally, she gets her coffee and sits down across from me.

'So," she says without any niceties, 'you refuse to move back home."

Shit. I should've known she would bring this up. 'I thought we're supposed to talk about the wedding?"

'This is directly related to the wedding. If you're home, you can help me with it."

I take a deep breath, and my heart pounds with dread. As much as I hate disappointing my mother, I would hate living at home with her and Chanel even more.

'This isn't what I'm here to discuss," I say. 'For the last time, I'm not moving back home when I have all the space and privacy I need at Dad's house."

'But his stepbrother is there," she says, wrinkling her nose.

Before I can respond, my phone chimes, and Thomas's name pops up.

For fuck's sake, will he never stop?

Mom cocks her head to the side and reads my screen upside down. She stares at his name. 'So you and Thomas are still talking."

'It's…" I take a deep breath. 'It's rather one-sided."

'Is this why you want space from Chanel and me? So you can try to win back Thomas?"

'No!" I say. 'Heck no. He keeps texting. I wanted to ask you about this, because maybe Chanel shouldn't marry him if he's going to try to get back together with me. He cheated on me, so who's to say he won't cheat on her? I'm not sure what to do."

Disapproval laces her tone as she says, 'Well, you need to encourage him to stop texting you, obviously."

I feel about two inches tall. 'I'm not encouraging him. And I told him to leave me alone. He's just not listening."

'If this is some twisted game to get back at your sister…"

The threat hangs unspoken in the air.

'Aren't you listening?" I say, holding up my phone. 'I told him to stop. I'm concerned about the wedding. Chanel should know he's doing this, but I'm not sure how to tell her?—"

'You will say nothing to Chanel about this. She doesn't need the stress during this delicate time."

'Delicate time—is she pregnant?"

'No, of course not. Being a bride is stressful enough on its own. She's busy with work and with planning her wedding." Mom pauses and stares hard. 'I think you like his attention."

'I don't. I don't want to have anything to do with him."

Her look is pure skepticism, but I don't have anything else to say on the matter.

She tries something else. 'If you'd just come home…"

'I'm at Dad's, and that's my home right now." The more times I say it, the easier it is. Someday, I might be able to stand up to my mother without feeling like I'm about to have a panic attack.

Eyes flashing, she says, 'I think it's inappropriate that you're there with his stepbrother."

My face heats and I hope she doesn't see my blush. 'It's not inappropriate."

'Evangeline." She sets down her coffee cup and looks at me. I can see the individual gold flecks in her brown eyes. 'Is there something going on between you and Leonard?"

'What? No," I lie.

She stares harder at me, but I don't crack. I won't. If she had any inkling, she'd definitely make me move back home. And yes, I'm a grown adult and I decide where I live, but the pressure she could exert would make my life hell.

'I don't know what your father was thinking, leaving him with you," she mutters.

I know she's remembering Leonard and his ex, her friend's little sister. But that was a long time ago and has nothing to do with me.

At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

We spend the rest of our time talking about the wedding, and I share several venue options. Mom picks the rose garden at Blackberry Park in San Esteban and books it right then and there.

'Shouldn't Chanel have a say?" I ask. 'And Thomas?"

'I'm sure she'll agree with me, but if not, we'll move it somewhere else. This is obviously the best place, though."

'If you say so," I say, trying to sound light and playful despite the fact that this seems more like my mom's wedding than Chanel's.

She's dead serious as she responds, 'I do."

For a minute, I almost feel sorry for Chanel.