Page 76 of Deviant Obsession

Dean'sheartbeat drums a steady rhythm beneath my ear as I curl tighter against his chest, my fingers absently tracing the soft cotton of his shirt. The steady rise and fall of his breathing should soothe me, but each exhale only winds the knot of guilt tighter in my stomach. Professor Shaw's voice echoes in my head—tell me what you’d do for me, Rhea—making me squeeze my eyes shut against the memory of being bent over his desk.

"I've missed this," Dean sighs into my hair, his palm sliding warm circles across my back. "Missed having you close."

A lump grows in my throat at the tenderness. Here he is, being so gentle with me, clueless to the fact that I've betrayed him so completely. The ghost of the professor's fingers in my hair mingles with the reality of Dean's touch until I can barely breathe through the shame. I press my face harder into his chest, hoping he won't notice more tears threatening to spill.

“I’ve missed you too,” I breathe, grateful that the words don’t crack around the sob fighting to burst from my lips.

"My beautiful girl. Never disappear on me like that again."

The guilt surges upwards like bile, choking me into silence. His absolute trust, his unwavering affection—I don't deserve any of it. Not after I knelt so willingly in that office, after I begged forrelease from hands that weren't his or Ethan's. The memory of Professor Shaw's rough touch makes me shiver, and Dean pulls me closer, misreading my trembling as a need for warmth.

"Dean..." My voice wavers as I force myself to lift my head. "I need to tell you something."

His arms tighten around me, but the glistening blue of his eyes as they find mine is patient and open. Ready to hear anything. The same eyes that watched me take his initial with such pride, such possession. What would I see in them now, if I confessed how thoroughly I've violated that trust?

The words die in my throat as I stare up at him, memorizing the slight curve of his lips, the faint stubble along his jaw. How many more times will I get to see him look at me like this, once he knows what I've done? Once he knows I spread my legs for my professor like the slut they both trained me to be for them and them alone?

"What is it, babygirl?" His thumb brushes my cheek, and I realize I'm chewing on my lip to the point of pain.

"I..." The confession hovers on my tongue, threatening to shatter everything. But my courage crumbles beneath the weight of what I've done. "I'm sorry for ghosting. I’ve just been swamped lately. I didn’t mean to disappoint you."

It's not a lie. The thought of Dean turning away from me, of losing both him and Ethan, makes my chest cave in. But it's not the whole truth either. Not when I can still feel the edge of Professor Shaw's desk digging into my thighs, still taste him on my tongue.

"Hey." He tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze again. "You couldn’t disappoint me. Not ever. That’s just something we say because we know you love a punishment. When you need to slow down and prioritize yourself, we support that completely. I mean, hell, we’re the assholes for not suggesting it ourselves. We’re just too addicted to you."

His lips brush my forehead, so achingly sweet that fresh tears spring to my eyes. I squeeze them shut, focusing on the solid warmth of him beneath me, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with faint cigarette smoke. Anything to ground me in this moment, to keep from picturing another man’s kiss.

"Promise?" The question slips out small and broken, even though I have no right to ask for promises. Not when I've already broken every unspoken vow between us.

"Promise." His mouth finds my temple, then the curve of my cheek. Each kiss feels like forgiveness I haven't earned. "Whatever needs to change for this to all work out, we'll figure it out together."

I nod against his chest, not trusting my voice. His hands resume their soothing patterns across my back, trying to ease tension he can't possibly understand. I should tell him now. I should confess how I moaned for another man, how I came apart under someone else's command. He deserves that much.

Instead, I press closer, soaking in his warmth while I still can.

"I've got you," Dean whispers, and for just a moment, I let myself believe it's true. Let myself pretend I haven't ruined the most precious thing I've ever had.

A soft knock at the door makes me flinch against Dean's chest. My heart rate doubles—I know it's Ethan without having to look. The twin who can see right through me, read my mind without me having to say a word. And now I have to lie to him too.

Dean's warmth disappears as he untangles himself from our embrace, mumbling that he’ll open it. The loss of contact leaves me cold, though the temperature hasn't changed. I wrap my arms around myself, though it does little to stop me feeling like I’m falling apart.

The moment Ethan steps inside, I find myself struggling to breathe again. I catch the meaningful look that passes betweenthe brothers, some silent communication about my state of mind, no doubt. My skin prickles under their shared scrutiny.

I can't bring myself to meet Ethan's piercing gaze. Those ice-blue eyes see too much, strip away every defense until I'm raw and exposed. He'll know I’m hiding something the instant he really looks at me. He always does.

My fingers are numb as I pick at loose threads in my sleeves, my bowl of soup now cold and forgotten on the coffee table.

"You look exhausted, little one."

Ethan's quiet observation cuts through my spiral of self-loathing. His tone holds none of its usual stoney edge, just genuine concern that makes my lower lip tremble. I pull it between my teeth as I manage a weak nod.

"I think I should…can we just...go to bed?" I’m desperate to avoid a conversation with Ethan. He’d have the truth from me in minutes. And then it would all be over.

Dean moves toward me, and I steel myself for his kiss. His lips part mine with such earnest affection that I almost break right there. Almost confess everything. But then he pulls back, that trusting smile still playing at the corners of his mouth, and I know I can't destroy this. Not yet.

"Get some rest, babygirl." His fingers trace my cheek one last time. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

It sounds like a question rather than a statement. His uncertainty telling me he's still worried I might disappear again. I force myself to nod, though I have no idea if I'll have the strength to face him tomorrow. To face either of them, until I can admit to what I've done.

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