Wet Visit

Emily

The plane landed with a gentle thud that jolted me back to the present. Jack was already unbuckling, reaching for the overhead bin before the seatbelt sign even dinged off.

“I’ve got it, babe,” he said, voice low like I might shatter if he spoke too loud. “You just sit. No lifting. Doctor’s orders, or baby’s orders, whatever.”

I smiled up at him. Inside, satisfaction curled warm in my chest. The fake pregnancy was already working its magic. He carried both our bags down the jet bridge, one slung over each shoulder, refusing to let me so much as hold my purse. Perfect.

The airport was small, provincial, nothing like our airport. We found a cab easily, the driver nodded when Jack gave the address, and we were off. Jack kept one hand on my knee the whole ride, stroking my belly absently like he was staking claim. I stared out at the passing fields and let my mind run through the plan again, simple and sharp.

Expose the cheating to his family, with receipts if needed. Tell him in front of them that I’m leaving. File for divorce citing adultery. Use the miscarriage as leverage in court, emotional cruelty, abandonment during grief. Strip him of everything: the business he built on my money, the savings we shared, the house I’d co-signed for.

First, I’d leave him penniless. Then string him along for the full nine months, doctor visits I’d fake, ultrasound pictures I’d print from the internet, cravings I’d invent, until the due date came and went. Only then would I tell him the truth, there was never a baby. Never had been. Just a ghost I’d used to keep him dancing.

I was so deep in the fantasy, picturing his face when the penny finally dropped, that I didn’t hear him the first time.

“Em? We’re here.”

I blinked. The cab had stopped in front of a single-story house, whitewashed walls, wide veranda, mango trees heavy with fruit shading the driveway. It looked peaceful. Deceptively so.

Jack paid the driver, grabbed the bags again. “You okay? You zoned out.”

I pressed a hand to my stomach, habit now. “Yeah. Just… car sick. Give me a minute? I need some air.”

He nodded immediately. “Of course. Take your time. The house is right there anyway, all of this is it.”

I got out of the cab, legs unsteady from the long flight and the adrenaline still humming under my skin. I walked past the gate, down a dirt path that curved around the side of the property, telling myself I just needed space to breathe. The plan felt bigger out here, more real. Anxiety threatened to take over.

I kept walking. Past the main house, past a smaller outbuilding, until the path narrowed and the trees increased. I realized too late I’d lost the way back. Jack had said something about turning left at the mango tree, right at the well, shit.

A low sound reached me, the sound of running water. I followed it instinctively, rounding a cluster of plants until I came to an open-air shower stall tucked against the side of what looked like an old staff quarters. No door. Just a concrete floor, a rusty pipe jutting from the wall, and a man standing under the spray of water naked.

I froze, pressing my hand against my lips.

He was tall, taller than Jack, broad-shouldered, had a very tanned skin that was gleaming under the water. Muscles shifted under the stream as he ran a hand over his chest, down his stomach, lower. Water sluiced over ridges of abs, followed the V of his hips, tracing the length of him. My mouth went dry. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.

He turned the hose toward his back, arching slightly, water cascading down the deep groove of his spine. My imagination flashed, wild, unbidden, those strong hands on me, that body pressing me into the wall, the heat of him inside…

He started to turn. Panic spiked, I ducked behind the nearest bush, heart slamming so loud I was sure he’d hear it.

I popped my head out to check if he had seen me, then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I gasped in shock and lost my balance. My foot slipped on loose dirt, I went down hard. Strong hands caught me and hauled me up like I weighed nothing.

“Jesus. Do you always creep around people taking showers?”

I looked up. He was still wet, droplets clinging to his lashes, running down his neck. A towel now wrapped low around his hips, but it did nothing to hide the way his body had reacted to the near-miss. The outline was unmistakable.

I bit my lip again, couldn’t help it.

“For God’s sake, woman,” he said, voice low and rough with amusement, “stop biting your lip and say something.”

“I—I got lost,” I stammered. My face burned.

He smirked. “Indeed.”

I opened my mouth to explain, but the ground tilted again, or maybe my knees just gave out. He caught me again, easily. One arm around my waist, the other bracing my back. My breasts pressed against his bare chest. his cock, now fully hard, nudged against the thin fabric between my thighs. The contact was electric. A jolt straight to my core. I felt him twitch, then thicken further against me.

I gasped.

He didn’t let go.

“What would you have now?” he murmured, breath warm against my ear. “Haven’t seen that look in years.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. “You felt it.”

He heard. Of course he did.

“Yeah.” His grip tightened fractionally. He pulled me closer until there was no space left. His thumb traced the edge of my lower lip, slow. “Did you like what you saw?”

My pulse roared in my ears. I was about to answer God knows what when footsteps crunched on the path.

I jerked back, adjusting my posture immediately. I turned around to see Jack standing there, his brows furrowed slightly, his eyes darting between me and the stranger who had done a 360 on my body. “There you are baby, I’ve been looking everywhere.”

I swallowed hard. The tension between me and the stranger was unbearable. My skin felt too hot, my pulse pounding in my ears. “I got lost,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

A smirk tugged at the corner of the stranger’s lips. Of course he found it amusing. He had just seen me react, flushed, aroused, at seeing him naked, and now he knew I had a partner.

I stiffened, unsure whether to step back or confront him. My stomach twisted with a mix of dread and something else, embarrassment, anger, maybe even desire.

Then Jack appeared, walking straight to me. Relief and irritation hit me at the same time. He slid a protective arm around my shoulders, his gaze flicking to the other man.“Well,” he said, calm but firm, “I see you’ve met my dad already.”