⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

Three Years Ago - 2017

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

    Three months is a long time; it's enough time for me to think about moving home to live with my mum since the rent on this place is high, and the lease will run out soon. It's the time Fletcher's been gone, and despite loathing his very fucking being, I also miss him.

Why did I fuck Sam and Daisy – his bit on the side? Why the fuck couldn't I just... whatever, it's done. I can't take any of my actions back, just like he can't take his back. We can't take the past six months of the year back. I wish we could rewind time to the day before the terror attack and I could force him to come back early.

If he'd done that, I genuinely think things would've worked out. While his depression and PTSD weren't what made him shag the woman in the pub, I think if he'd not gone through that horror, we would've gone through things easier.

I knock back the final dribble of my glass of wine just as there's a knock on the door.

"Fuck's sake," I curse.

Who the fuck wants me at ten at night on a weekday? No one ever comes here anyway, unless it's my mum or the postman, or most recently it's been my Amazon delivery driver who's now on a first-name basis with me. Good old Dean.

I put the chain on the front door before opening it as far as it'll go. Luckily, I'm still in my clothes. I was going to have a bath after this latest episode of The Apprentice is finished.

But as I open the door, I quickly take the chain off when I notice Sam Ward there – Fletcher's brother. His dark brown hair is ruffled, his eyes look red, and he's looking defeated. His shoulders are slumped, a frown on his face. The black leather jacket he's wearing is hiding the grey form-fitting t-shirt, which, from experience, I know hides his muscles and abs. The dark blue jeans set off his look perfectly, and if it wasn't ten at night, he wasn't upset and he wasn't Fletcher's brother, I'd be chatting him up. But right now, he looks like he needs a friend.

Are we even friends? I don't know. I would say no, but I guess I'll find out his view now.

"Come in, Sam," I whisper.

"Thanks." He sniffs as he walks into the flat.

Once I've closed the door, we both walk into the lounge where I've paused the TV and have an empty glass of wine on the table and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asks.

"No, it's fine. What's going on?"

He sighs and sits on the brown leather armchair. His left ankle crosses over and rests on his right knee, and he rubs his forehead with his hand. "I just... it's a fucking mess, Adelaide."

"What is?"

His eyebrows knit together. "Everything. My fiancé—Francesca—left me. Daisy... she's left me—"

I sigh. "Sam, you can't have multiple girlfriends at once without them being okay with it. You fucking dildo. You were engaged to Francesca!"

He smirks. "You think I don't know that? I'm a knob, all right? She's been busy at university and tired all the time—"

"She's a fucking med student! Of course, she's gonna be out all the time and knackered. She's saving people's lives, doing a job at the same time as training!"

He groans. "All right, all right. They found out. Fran, just... she... lost it. But, like it's a mess. I lost them both. I've lost Fletcher. He's disowned me. You... I liked you and after what we did, we're not friends anymore."

"Sam... I regretted what we did the moment it was over. You know that. Like... you can't expect Fletch to be okay with that, either. We made our own bed, now we have to lie in it with the consequences. The best thing to do is work on yourself right now. I know I'm trying."

He stands up and shakes his head. "Daisy fell pregnant."

I stop short and stare at him, dumbfounded. "You got your bit on the side pregnant?"

"During the threesome."

I sigh and hold a hand to my head. What a fucking twat.

"She found out three weeks after it happened when she was feeling sick and whatever. Immediately she realised she didn't want it. But I did, Ade. I did. The whole thing; I offered to leave Fran, and I wanted to start a family with her."

He's crying now. Tears spill over his eyes and leak down his cheeks.

"I... Sam, I'm so sorry," I whisper.

"She was determined she didn't want it. So despite the arguments and discussions, she went and had a termination, despite me being desperate. Part of me thought being a dad would stop me from being such a bell end, you know? I know I'm a playboy, a good-for-nothing user, and I know I can be better. Maybe being a dad after all of this shit would help me calm down and find a purpose in life," Sam cries.

Fletcher cried so much after London Bridge, and it was the strangest thing. Before then, I'd never seen him cry. It was horrible because he was always the strong one and seeing him crumble meant nothing was all right.

"Sam." I open my arms and let him walk into them for a hug. Before the whole threesome thing, me and him did get on; we were friends more than anything. Fletch and Sam were close, and he'd come visit us at uni, come out clubbing with us sometimes and we'd go to his and play video games and board games together.

He told me after I broke up with Fletch that he thought a beautiful girl deserved better, but he had no idea. But then I decided to use him to exact revenge.

I'm a fucking bitch.

Sam cries into my shoulder, which is bare save for the thin strap of my dress and the bra strap. Part of me thinks this is highly inappropriate, but this guy is clearly breaking the fuck down and needs someone in his life. The fact he thought I could be that comfort is both sad in itself, and feels a bit like an honour.

"I've lost everything, Ade. Everything because I'm a selfish prick who never knows what he wants. I want to be better. I want to be a dad."

My hand rubs his back, while the other one stays loosely on his arm. This is part awkward, part fine, but I don't know which is most prevalent.

"One day," I whisper. "But right now, you need to calm down and work on yourself, all right?"

He sniffs and stands up properly. The darkness of his eyes is glazed with tears, but they remind me of Fletcher's so much. They have the same look, they could almost pass for twins, but in reality, it's just their dad's genes being so fucking strong against their mum.

"Maybe me and you—"

I shake my head. "No, Sam. Don't even... I've just come out of a long-term thing with your brother!"

He closes the gap between us in a swift move that takes less than a second. He smells like mint and coffee, and his eyes never leave mine.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about what a relationship between us would be like."

I laugh. "No, I haven't. We were a one-time thing to get back at your brother, and I regretted it immediately."

His eyes never falter, and despite the sadness that captivates them, they sparkle and hold something between seriousness and determination. Fletcher has the same look in his eyes when he's trying to get writing done.

It was the same look when Fletcher told me it was better for both of us if he left. The same look was on his face when he told me he would win me back after he cheated.

Fuck, the Ward brothers know what they're doing with their faces, I swear.

"Sam, I'm not into you," I admit. "Like, yeah, you're attractive and all, but I don't want to be with you."

He stares at me; chocolate eyes to my blue ones. "One of my biggest regrets was fucking you in a threesome, and you wanna know why?"

Part of me knows what he's doing, so I should keep my mouth closed. But the way his breathing fans from his mouth into mine is like a siren's song. It's basically Fletcher in a worse skin, but one I remember fondly at the same time. That threesome was good, and both of them were fun, but the best bit was Sam, and I hate to admit it.

He's challenging me, though, and the way both our breaths mingle in the middle of the tiny space between us proves it, along with the way my heart is pounding beneath my ribs. His eyes prove his intentions, and I hate that he knows how to get to me.

I like a challenge, and both he and Fletcher know it. It's my downfall, along with my pride and sense of proving people right or wrong.

"Why?" I challenge.

He moves closer so until he presses an ever-so-light kiss on the tip of my ear. When he's done, warm breath falls on me, lighting up my nerves as it goes.

My back arches ever so slightly as he goes to speak.

"Because I want to fuck you, just me and you, Ade. You are fucking beautiful, and you know we'd be good together," he whispers.

I'm putty in his hands, and he knows it. Sam's hand slips under the hem of my dress, dancing and teasing around the outside of my thigh.

"We both know how to make each other feel good. You know it," he whispers. The words spiral into my ears, down my spine, and force a shudder of devilish delight to erupt as his fingers trail up my thigh.

My hands pull at his jacket until he shrugs it off, and his t-shirt comes off in the struggle. Within the second, his hands are around my thighs, lifting me and taking me into the bedroom.

When I'm laid on the bed, he shuffles out of his jeans in record time; something Sam is accustomed to with the amount of notches on his bedpost. His eyes look into mine as he returns on top of me. There's wicked desire and shamelessness in his expression before he reaches down and kisses me. Our tongues explore the other as his hand moves down and pulls my underwear off without fumbling.

He's an expert at his craft and it shows. When my underwear is lost, his fingers slowly tease their way up my thigh. When they reach their destination, my mouth opens against his as the pressure becomes pleasure.

Our mouths stay on the other, but my moans continue. He devours them as his hand moves faster against me. My hands grip his biceps for something to anchor me as he pushes me further towards euphoria.

The moment his fingers dip into me is when my head dips back, cradled by his other hand. His arms are like the most comfortable pillows, but they're hard enough to keep me from falling asleep on him. His fingers are doing enough of that anyway – they're sending all thoughts except about how good this feels out of my brain.

He groans as I'm on the precipice; we both know I'm nearly there. My fingers rake on his arms.

"Come," Sam instructs. "Come for me, Ade."

I don't need his permission, and I hate that he has control over me right now, and I hate that I'm enjoying this, but here I am in his devilish grip once again.

My body convulses under him as I let go and come undone. My mouth elicits a moan as everything dissipates around me. His hand moves when I'm done. The wet patch on the bed from my orgasm doesn't seem to bother him as he sits in it, pulling me to him. My dress stays on, but as I lower myself over him, Sam pushes the straps down, undoes my bra and throws it to the floor.

We guide each other until he's fully inside me and I'm sitting in his lap. This position gives us the same height, so as I adjust to the sensation, he claims the skin on my neck, forcing my pulse to accelerate against his kiss.

"Fuck," I whisper.

His hands grip my hips and force me to grind over him as he continues sucking my skin. It's going to leave a fucking mark, and as much as I hate that thought, the way he's stroking me in the right places and hitting my nerves forces the idea out of my mind.

"You feel so good," Sam mumbles into my skin.

My response is a groan as he hits the right spot, just the right amount. He moves his mouth to claim the rest of my groan as my climax picks up again.

He raises my hips until he's out of me as I climax again.

"Fuck, Ade." He groans as he enters me again.

I dig my nails into his back as his hands go on the mattress beneath us. I grind away at him until he moans and sits up, hands on my hips.

Within a few seconds, he moves me onto all fours.

Holy shit. He remembers how much I enjoy this position—except he shouldn't, as we've only done it once before now.

I'm fucked up.

He pounds himself into me hard and fast, so I rock myself in rhythm to him as we both moan in tandem.

"I want you to come. Moan my name, Ade. Tell me what you want me to do."

My legs quiver, my head droops, and my mouth opens as we both begin finishing at the same time. I hate that he does this; he knows telling me what to do will make me surrender.

"Fuck, Sam," I moan. "Come for me."

"Holy fuck," Sam moans.

When he drops out of me, we both collapse beside each other. Part of me feels filthy; my ex-boyfriend's brother who I fucked merely for revenge last time. But it's just sex. There is no feeling here. When I look at Sam, I just see... desire. Animalistic need, and nothing more.

I also see Fletcher.

But Fletch cheated, and I disrespected him.

Sam kisses my bare shoulder. "That was fucking hot."

He's not wrong; he made me come more than once, and anyone who can do that to me deserves to be called hot for that.

Equally, this is still majorly fucked up; it's been three months since Fletcher walked out that door and all I've wanted is him back. But now I'm doing the very thing that fucked it all up—well, not completely. Two played the game, but this is clearly my brain telling me to let Fletcher Ward go completely.

I hate myself more than ever. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶