Shared Wife in the Wilderness

The tent felt too small with four bodies inside. Pressed against Vincent's chest, my skin burned pink under the intense gaze of the man across from us.

"Mrs. Roland, you're so fair!" His hungry stare drank me in shamelessly—right in front of my own husband.

I'm Isabella Laurent, and men have always looked. But this? This was something else entirely.

Our rainforest getaway was supposed to rekindle our marriage. Yet from the moment we boarded the bus, Vincent's hands had other ideas. His fingers traced dangerous paths as I squirmed in the backseat.

"Vincent! There are people—" My protest died as his teeth grazed my ear.

"Exactly," he murmured, that devilish grin making my stomach flip. The next second, cool air hit my thighs as my dress rode up, leaving nothing to imagination but a scrap of lace.

I could feel their eyes—the group of men watching with predatory interest. Their gazes scorched my exposed skin, lingering on every curve. The high neckline was my only saving grace.

"Please stop..." My whisper came out breathy as Vincent's fingers slipped higher. My traitorous body arched into his touch, drawing more hungry stares. One man licked his lips while adjusting himself, the bulge in his pants sending heat flooding through me.

God, this was mortifying. And thrilling.

Only when I buried my face in Vincent's chest did he notice our audience. The rest of the ride passed in tense silence, but something had awakened in me—a dark craving I couldn't name.

We'd grown comfortable in our marriage. Too comfortable. Yet those strangers' stares? They set my blood on fire. Even now, my body remembered.

Our fellow travelers included Dominic Evans—all muscle and swagger—and his willowy dance student Sophia. Vincent's eyes tracked her every move until my elbow found his ribs.

"Eyes up here, husband."

His grip tightened on my hip. "Don't play innocent. I saw how Dominic 'accidentally' brushed your thigh earlier." His breath burned against my neck. "Or how he looked down your top when you bent over."

Okay, maybe I hadn't minded. After the bus incident, the attention felt... electrifying. Not that I'd admit it.