7. Through The Wall

7

THROUGH THE WALL

I startled awake from a troubled sleep, heart racing in my chest.

I cocked my head to listen but didn't hear a thing. Even the snowy landscape outside had stilled, the storm's aftermath leaving a clear, starry sky in its wake. After I'd clumsily fled the hot tub, I'd taken a quick shower then hopped into bed. When I finally fell into a fitful sleep, Beau and Flora had lingered in my dreams, their hands on my body, their lips on my skin.

A sound drifted in from the hallway. Hushed voices, almost angry sounding.

No, not the hallway.

Beau and Flora's bedroom.

I slipped out of bed and limped as quietly as I could to my door, pushing it open and wincing as it creaked. Silence had fallen again, and as I peered out into the darkened hallway, all I could see was the faintest shimmer of lights from the Christmas tree. The fire had long since been put out, our dishes drying in the sink, the hot tub covered.

There it was again—frantic whispers and someone saying shhh . Goosebumps shivered down my arms as I neared their closed door, my ears straining. I could make out their voices now —Beau's husky drawl, Flora's throaty murmur. Another clash of whispers.

Then I heard my name. Once, then twice. My spine stiffened. Everything after that was too muffled to really understand, but the tone was obvious.

They were arguing.

My fingers flew to my mouth, stomach coiled into knots. I made my way back to my room as quickly as I could, shutting the door tight behind me. I perched on the edge of my bed with a heavy sigh, mentally calculating every mistake I'd made since we arrived. Thought about the gnawing suspicion I'd had that their relationship was in trouble, a suspicion that grew by the hour. Thought about their individual confessions to me, how eager they seemed to remind me that we'd shared a connection once.

Flora asking me about regret. Beau admitting his jealousy.

Was this what Dorothy had done? Bided her time as my relationship with Em began to deteriorate, waiting for the right moment to intervene?

Except I wasn't trying to split them up. I was trying to keep them both. And I couldn't figure out what they were doing.

Behind me, through the wall, came a creaking sound—mattress springs and bodies adjusting. I sucked in a breath and went completely still. My eyes tracked up to the ceiling, and in the dim moonlight, I could make out a grate connecting my room with theirs.

The mattress creaked again, and I heard it, crystal clear, through the grating. A flush crept up my neck at the intimacy of it all, their bodies shifting a few inches from where I sat. Then came hoarse murmurings—affectionate-sounding, not the harsh consonants of their argument. I heard Beau's voice, but still couldn't make out the words.

Next—a moan, low and desperate-sounding.

I froze. My heart rattled my ribcage. From the grate came heavy, labored breathing. More whispers. Another moan, louder this time. After an entire day spent watching them barely touch each other, let alone make direct eye contact, and now… and now …

Twisting onto my knees, I shuffled to the top of the bed and pressed my ear directly to the wall before I could talk myself out of it. The world shrank around me. Beau's voice filtered through. "You're gonna come on my tongue, darlin'. But only if you stay quiet. Do you understand?"

I collapsed in total shock.

Flora let out a breathy please . Was she naked in their bed, golden limbs striped with hazy moonlight? Was Beau pinning her legs down, opening her wide for his mouth? In my mind, I could see Beau's back and shoulders rippling with ink and muscles as he knelt before her, all crooked grin and arrogance. And I knew the exact second that his tongue touched her clit because she gasped out his name.

I slipped my hand between my legs and pressed on my clit. Another action driven purely by lust, more instinct than rational decision. Flora's next sounds were stifled but increasing in frequency. They were gorgeous, tempting, sinful.

"Yes, that's it." She sighed. "Harder…harder."

Sensation coursed through me. My body was already clamoring for release, driving me to the edge. My nipples were tight against the cool wall, and every drag had my fingers moving faster. I couldn't stop picturing Flora's spine arching off the bed, hands in Beau's hair, her hips rocking in circles as he licked her.

She gave a loud, satisfied moan—quickly muffled. I imagined Beau's large palm pressing to her mouth, keeping her quiet. Envisioned her bucking against his tongue as she orgasmed. Just the suggestion of her climax had my own rushing through me so forcefully that I toppled backward onto the bed. At the last second, I shoved a pillow over my face and cried out into it. Getting off on hearing Flora.

Getting off on the idea that they might have heard me too.

But I'd hardly caught my breath before I heard a rhythmic rocking sound. I was back at the wall in an instant. Beau's rough grunt had me sliding my fingers deep inside myself, pretending it was his cock stretching me.

Flora whispered, "Oh my god," and the rhythm picked up.

"If you won't stay quiet, I'll flip you over and press your pretty face into this mattress," he growled.

"You know I won't," she taunted. Then came a chorus of movements and creaks, and my mind filled with the filthiest of images. Flora, naked and on her hands and knees. Beau behind her, hips thrusting against her thighs, his throat exposed as his head tipped back.

I could hear the unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh. It was Beau, fucking Flora from behind on the other side of this wall.

My fingers moved faster. Every time my palm nudged my clit, I had to bite back my own moans.

"So close, so close," Flora begged, completely out of breath. " Please ."

He sped up. Their bed knocked against the wall that separated us. I ground against my palm and started to completely unravel. Flora released a muted cry, and Beau's satisfied groan had me coming in rapid spasms.

This time, I fell back onto the bed and stayed there, too wrung out to do much more than chase my own breath. Cloaked in wintry darkness, with only the soaring mountains as witnesses, there was an illicit pleasure in submitting to my forbidden desires. Of feeling good and not just conflicted.

Still, when I heard their bedroom door open a few minutes later, I went rigid beneath the sheets. Waited as two sets of footsteps walked to the bathroom, then two sets returned, stopping outside of my room. They hovered, and I waited, and every fiber of my being yelled at me to say something .

But after a few taut seconds, they left.

And I was alone in my bed again.