Christian looked at me, his grin returning wolfish and hungry, “One night for his freedom. What do you say?”

It was a last chance. A single final opportunity to be the man I needed him to be.

I can say with complete and utter honesty that if Michael had turned down Christian that I wouldn’t have slept with him. Even as much as my body craved and ached for it I know that I could have held out. That little shred of restraint that I had left in me would have given me the strength to do that, to resist the lure of his arms and his body.

And while I can’t say that Michael and I would have ever gone the distance I can say that maybe we could have. Maybe that one act of defiance would have been enough.

Enough to know that he valued me and us. Enough to know that he would fight for our relationship.

Christian and I both watched him. Watched Michael freeze for a moment and then turn to look at Christian. He stared at him wordlessly for a long while before looking at me, and Michael didn’t need to say a word, I could read it all over his face.

I pulled back in disgust. Disgust at the man who was supposed to be my partner and confidant. The man who was supposed to care about us.

I didn’t recognize that man in there.

I saw only someone weak and insubstantial. Someone who didn’t have the courage to endure and fight for what he wanted.

I saw a man who would never be enough for me. Who didn’t deserve me.

And so the rest that happened was inevitable.

“Fine,” I stood, pushing myself off of the bed and away from him, “If this means so much to you then fine. Fine.”

I walked over to Christian, pressing my lips against him and kissing him hard and firm. I felt his lips pressed against mine and felt the rush of adrenaline running through my body. My whole being surged at the touch of him, at the feel of him against me and the feeling that it was so right. That it was everything I wanted and needed and deserved.

And when our kiss broke I was panting from the effort of it, and I turned and shot a glance at my failure of a man sitting at the edge of his bed across the room and looking at us.

“Is this what you want?” I asked him, my voice harsh and angry, “Does this make you happy?”

Christian drew my attention back to him, hand on my face pulling it to his. It was just as well, Michael didn’t have anything to say for himself. He just sat there with a stunned dumb look on his face as I kissed Christian again and he pulled me against his body.

I felt his arms around me, strong and secure. I felt his hands on me, hard and firm. He was feeling me, his touch teasing and tempting me and driving the energy in me higher and higher.

I was insatiable, the needy touch of his hands on my body driving a heat in me that I could barely accept and realize.

I was still stuck in a momentary confusion. Clarity hadn’t yet settled on me. I was so much that woman so drawn to him and yet torn by the connections and attachments I had pulling me back.

Michael might have given permission but a part of me knew this was wrong. Knew this was base and primal. Knew that I should be better than this, that good girls didn’t do things that were this wrong.

Christian broke our kiss and I heard his whisper in my ear.

“You’re welcome,” he said, “I know that you want this. You must be so happy I found a way to have you.”

I tensed and pressed my hands against his chest, not pushing him but tensing and feeling the hard muscle of his body as his hands slipped down over my ass and squeezed me and held me tight.

“But do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asked, “Because I’m going to have you tonight. I’m going to make you mine.”

A shiver ran up my spine and I clenched my teeth, “Fuck you.”

“Don’t worry,” he cooed at me, pulling back to set his wicked eyes on me, “I’ll have you begging for me to fuck you by nights end.”