Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers

PEYTON

I jolt awake, feeling something wet splash on my face, my body-everywhere. My eyes fly open, but everything is blurry, the ceiling swirling above me.

And then I see a face-scrunch up like a thundercloud about to burst.

"Odin, what the hell?" I snap, trying to push myself up, but my limbs feel like lead.

"What the hell, huh? What hell? Is that-is that-"

"Just stop stammering, you fool!" I cut him off, clutching my head. It throbs, a dull, insistent ache behind my eyes.

"I thought I made myself clear: be home before midnight! But no, you came back looking like a messy, wet rag that someone dragged out of a gutter!"

Odin is talking, and believe me, I don't know who the hell he's talking to. He is hovering over me with a jug in his hand, still in his boxers, chest bare.

While me-I think I'm lying on the couch.

Wait a second, I'm home? How?

I sit up, scanning the whole place. "Odin, what am I doing here? Did you..."

I pause and look down at my body. I'm still in my fur coat, my dress somewhere around my waist, my thigh exposed to the naked eye.

Like, seriously, how did I get home? Why do I feel like there's a big hole in my memory?

That means...

My eyes snap wide open again. The club. The stranger.

"Shit!" I spring up from the couch, fisting my hair like it will somehow bring back the memory that seems to have vanished.

"PEYTON! Are you even listening to me?" Odin yells, snapping me back to reality.

I frown. "You were talking?"

Odin runs his hand through his hair and just stands silent for like ten seconds, trying to hold his temper like I'm a fifteen-year-old who just lit the curtains on fire with a stolen cigarette.

"What were you saying, Odin?" I say, breaking the awkward silence.

He sighs, but clearly, he's still furious. "Let's walk through it, shall we? You were supposed to be home by midnight, right? Twelve AM hits, and guess what? No wife. Now, I don't usually give a damn where you are, but you never stay out past dark, do you, sweetheart? So, I'm thinking, 'Oh no, my perfect little trophy wife must have gotten lost.' The nerve, right?"

He throws his hands up in mock exasperation, then lets them drop with a loud slap against his thighs. He's so dramatic.

"So, like a complete idiot, I storm out of the house, driving around in circles like a headless chicken, looking for your royal highness. After what felt like an eternity, I figure, 'Screw it, I'll grab a drink.' So I pull up to some random club, and who do I see? My oh-so-innocent wife, sprawled out in her car, door practically wide open, sound asleep! Looking like a discarded doll." He jabs a finger in my direction. "That's how you got home, Peyton."

I blink. That was intense, but it helps... My memories are starting to come back.

The last thing I clearly remember is the bad boy stranger grabbing me, that startling sensation... and then...

"Oh sweet mother of Jesus! What did I do?" I shout and start pacing. Bit by bit, it appears in my head.

And the worst part, the shock I received... after...

"Are you done now?" Odin interrupts, raising a brow. "Now clean this mess up. I'm going to work, and when I'm back, we'll have a serious talk."

I don't reply as my brain starts walking me through the night's events from the beginning.

The stranger had whispered in my ear, offering me a drink. His words, I quote: "Want to drink with me, love?"

And I don't know why I didn't refuse. Ah yes. He snatched my purse again, using that as leverage, and I had no choice but to drink.

We talked, he annoyed me, and I laughed-okay, yeah, I started laughing when I got tipsy. When I was completely drunk, he offered to take me to my car, and then it happened. I kissed him. God, I kissed the asshole. And he seemed to enjoy it; his hands roamed my body, and before I knew it, we were in his car.

I unbuttoned his dress. He took off my pants.

He sucked on my nipples, and then I got so nosy, too nosy-my fingers hooked on his mask...

Jesus Christ. I slept with my brother-in-law.

I remember I was so shocked that I jumped off him and hit my head on the back of the driver's seat.

I remember the smirk on his face like he knew me all along, and he laughed the moment I started scrambling out of the car. He didn't stop me, and I ran out and started searching for my car in the parking lot.

I threw up a couple of times, and I think I found my car, and that's when everything blanks.

"You're still here," Odin's voice cuts in, bringing me back to the present. He's all dressed up in a simple shirt and trousers-too casual for an office. His brow furrows. "Go take a shower; you reek of alcohol."

I slumped on the couch, ignoring him. His brother's face is stamped in my mind. I'm trying to fool myself into believing he only touched me for foreplay and all. But I know deep down-I feel it inside me-he did put his dick inside me.

God, I want to disappear.

"Peyton!" Odin snaps.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Just get out of here!" I shoot back, my heart slamming against my chest. "Go away; there's the door."

I gesture to the exit, the other hand clutching my forehead as it throbs like a jackhammer inside my skull.

Odin looks at me suspiciously, like he's trying to figure me out, but he doesn't speak. He just flashes a glare as he walks out the door.

"Go take a shower," he repeats, and I roll my eyes.

Seriously? Me taking a shower-is that what's bothering him right now? I have bigger problems. Last night wasn't supposed to go that way. I was supposed to take my purse from the bastard and go home straight, forfeiting the stupid notion of wanting to sin.

But no, the asshole didn't let me. He manipulated me, even knowing I'm his brother's wife.

Why did he do that? We only met once at my and Odin's wedding. So why would he...

I rub my temples, trying to find some semblance of control. I think I'm losing it. Maybe I'm overreacting.

I need a coffee.

I shoot up from the couch, but then it hits me.

My panties. I feel... empty... and bare.

I look under my thigh only to see my pussy staring back at me, stark naked beneath the rumpled dress.

"Oh great, he got a souvenir."