Homewrecker (Into the Flames #1) by Cat Mason, Katheryn Kiden

bein’ pulled and a thick cock is bein’ driven into your pussy? I bet you silently beg him to fuck your sweet ass and he won’t do it. He’s scared, Kennedy. He’s scared he’s gonna hurt you, just like you’re scared to tell him you want it.”
    “You don’t know shit, Dixon.”
    I swear the fucker laughs just before slamming his lips against mine again. I struggle, trying to push him away, but it’s no use. My head is screaming at me that this is wrong, but my body doesn’t seem to get the message. Again, Dixon knows the second I give in to him because he lets go of my hands and slides them into my hair, tightening his grip until I gasp. He takes advantage of my weak moment and kisses me harder. My mind continues to scream at me to push him away, but my body wants nothing more than to pull him closer and have a repeat of last night.
    Pulling away, Dixon grins down at me. “Told you you want what I can give you. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.” Turning around, he walks from the room with his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Get your ass washed up and in the truck, Kennedy. We don’t want to keep Gunnar waitin’ so long that he comes lookin’, because who knows what will happen if you’re still in the shower when I come back in.”
    "I hate you, Dixon Hale!" I yell after him.
    "Tell that to your pussy, Kennedy," he hollers back. "At least that set of lips doesn't lie."
    Blowing out a frustrated breath, I rush into the bathroom and shower as fast as I possibly can. Am I afraid that he'll make good on his threat of coming in here and make a liar out of me again? You can bet your ass I am. I shouldn't want him. I don't want to. I love Gunnar— I've loved him ever since we were teenagers—but Dixon was right when he said something is missing.
    As I'm drying off, my phone vibrates on the counter and when I grab it, I get lost in the amount of text messages from Lynsey. They range from "Um why", to "You fucking whore, since you won't text me back you now have to work today." The door swings open just as I pull my shirt over my head.
    "Well hell, I was hopin’ you were still in there naked and wet. I could have dirtied you up some more and then cleaned you up before takin’ you home."
    The fact that I have to go home punches me in the gut. The guilt builds up even more, making the need to vomit hit me again. I finish pulling my shirt into place and shove past him so I can leave. Every step I take toward the truck makes me feel even sicker and when I climb in, Gunnar's scent surrounds me. If it weren't for the fact that Dixon was sliding in beside me right now, I would probably break down and cry again. Instead, I suck it up and tell myself that I can do that later when no one is around. I slam the truck into gear and only turn in Dixon's direction when I need to look out the window or use the mirror. He doesn't say anything the entire ride, but I can feel him staring at me every now and then, and I know if I were to turn and look at him I would lose it.
    I’ll be damned if I’ll give Dixon Hale the fucking satisfaction.
    The second we pull into the driveway and the truck is off, I barrel out and rush into the bathroom, somehow avoiding Gunnar on my way. I need another shower. I need to scrub myself clean and hopefully wash some of this guilt down the drain. I know it's impossible, but I need to try. Turning the knob on as hot as I can get it, I climb in and let the water pour over me. I open my mouth, letting the water rush over my tongue and try to get the taste of Dixon off my lips before I see Gunnar.
    Gunnar says something and Dixon starts laughing in the kitchen when I finally get out and get dressed. Laughing. Like he didn’t just screw his best friend’s wife. Am I the only one with guilt in this situation?
    When Gunnar notices me, he pushes away from the table and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. It’s the same spot that Dixon had his last night and I pray that I