Twice Taken: 3. The Text That Changed Everything

Elena's POV

I woke in a bed that didn’t smell like my life.

It smelled like cedar and paint thinner, skin and aftershave—like him.

Julian’s side of the bed was warm but empty. The sheets beside me were tangled, holding the ghost of his body. The green dress lay in a careless heap on the floor. My heels were near the nightstand. My stomach twisted. One night. One kiss. And yet, the impact reverberated through me as though I had shattered every part of the careful life I had constructed.

I tried to steady myself, pulling the sheet closer to my chest. 

I thought if Max, my husband, and guilt, flared, sharp and hot in me. His name was a tether I could no longer ignore. I had cheated. Not just physically, but emotionally, with every part of my body that had cried out for Julian’s touch. And worse, I hadn’t regretted a single moment.

A champagne cork rolled lazily across the floor, like we’d celebrated something. Like we’d won.

But we hadn’t.

I was still Max’s wife. Still… me. Guilt coiled hot in my chest, yet again, but it was meaningless now. I had let Julian inside me. I had cried his name into his throat. I had let him see me unravel in a way Max never had.

And I hadn’t regretted a second of it.

The door creaked. Instinctively, I pulled the sheet to my chest.

Julian appeared, shirtless, two mugs in his hands.

“You’re still here,” he said, almost uncertain.

“You thought I’d sneak out?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re married, Elena. I thought you’d have gone back to your room.”

I flinched at the sound of my name on his tongue—intimate, knowing.

He set one mug down on the nightstand beside me. “Chamomile. No cream. One sugar.”

I blinked. “You remembered.”

“I remember a lot of things I shouldn’t,” he said softly, and my mind went to back to the crazy night we had last night. His presence filled the room, a force I couldn’t resist.

I swallowed. The memory of last night was raw—his hands, his lips, the way he had claimed me. The way I had let him. My fingers dug into the sheets as he stepped closer, arms crossed, muscles taut. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think clearly.

He didn’t sit, just stood there—muscles tight beneath golden skin, morning light sharp against his jaw. Hickeys on his neck. I had done that. I knew if I looked, I'd find them on my neck as well. Last night had been wild and I was not ashamed to admit to myself that I wanted more. 

“You look like you regret it already,” he said.

“I don’t,” I said too quickly. “That’s the problem.”

He finally sat beside me, close but not touching. “Then don’t pretend you do. Don’t disappear into that perfect little version of yourself you built for Max.”

“You’re asking me to destroy my life,” I whispered.

“No,” he said. “I’m asking you to choose.”

My breath caught. “I need time,” I hedged, wondering how I would tell Max I wanted out to be with his brother.

“You don’t have time, Elena,” he said sharply.

He reached into the drawer and pulled out something small and black. A phone. Not his. Max’s.

“He was here last night,” Julian said simply.

I went cold. “What?”

“He stopped by. Forgot his charger or something.”

“And… he saw me?”

Julian shook his head. “He knocked. I didn’t answer. He must have assumed you were asleep. Left this behind.”

He handed me the phone. My heart hammered. I unlocked the screen. One unread message, timestamped 11:32 p.m.—while we were upstairs, entangled in each other's arms, moaning and groaning with pleasure.

The message read, "Hope you’re sleeping. Got a weird vibe tonight. Anyway… love you. See you tomorrow".

I stared at the screen until my vision blurred.

Julian touched my knee. “He doesn’t know. Yet.”

“But he will,” I whispered.

“You can lie,” he said. “You’ve done it for years. One more isn’t a problem.”

“That’s not fair,” I said.

“It’s true,” he said, voice tight. “Max doesn’t see you. Never has. You’re his trophy, not his partner.”

“You don’t get to ruin me and pretend you’re rescuing me,” I said quietly.

He stopped, the fire draining from his eyes. “I didn’t want to ruin you. I just couldn’t watch you shrink anymore.”

He turned away. “I’ll be gone by tonight. You’ll never have to see me again.”

I sat frozen, gripping Max’s phone—and then it buzzed.

An unknown number.

He’s not the only one who saw you last night.

My blood ran cold. It was another message: a photo. Taken through the window. Me. In Julian’s arms. Mouth open, eyes half-lidded. No mistaking it.

Thought you should know. More where that came from.

I felt insane. Lust, fear, and need twisted inside me. I wanted him. I needed him. And now… someone else was watching.

And it didn't matter because I was still going to have him, if he would have me. 

I looked at him and saw him looking back at me and I saw the raging desire that I felt that had been fueled by the danger of exposure mirrored in his eyes.

As though by silent agreement, I found myself once more in his arms. And he was kissing me desperately. Desperation born out of desire to have what wasn't really ours and to escape the impending exposure drove us and soon our clothes were on the floor. He carried me to the bed and climbed in after me, his breathing hiked just like mine.

He slid his face down to my thighs and swallowed me, his tongue circling, caressing and sucking me up. 

I knew I was going to peak any moment, but he was not letting go and neither was I as my hand raked his hair, my body arching towards him and my head thrown back with my mouth open in ecstacy. 

He raised his head as the last shudder left my body and straddling me, he thrust into me, his mouth, swallowing my gasp.