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  I take control of the kiss, plunging my tongue deep as I bury my cock inside her.

  She wraps her legs around my waist, and I slip an arm under her knee and lift it higher, desperate to get as far inside her as I can.

  All the pain and anger I’ve been desperately trying to keep down come spewing out.

  My hips jerk and pump wildly. I’m a savage. No finesse at all. Just an overwhelming need to rut.

  I’m not going to last long, but even in my frenzied state, I’m not so selfish as to leave her hanging, so I reach between us and use my fingers on her clit.

  When the last spasms of my orgasm subside, I reach down to hold the condom in place as I pull out.

  I hit bare flesh instead.

  No condom.

  Fuck. I’m a complete idiot.

  I roll over onto my back and drag my fingers through my hair.

  She slowly follows me, pressing her fingers to my chest.

  Can she feel my heart pounding?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It happens.”

  “Not to me.” I drag in a much-needed breath. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  She turns to her side and slides a finger down my cheek. “It’s okay. I think, or at least I hope, this where we’ve been heading? We just hadn’t had the conversation yet.”

  “That’s not the point. I didn’t give you the choice. I was irresponsible.”

  “Oh please. If you’re irresponsible, then so am I. I still had more than enough functioning brain cells to tell you to suit up, and I know damn good and well, you’d have complied.”

  She’s not wrong. But the guilt of unprotected sex weighs heavy. I haven’t gone without a condom in over ten years. Long before Hugh.

  Fucking Hugh.

  42

  Beth

  We get back to Ottawa Tuesday night and Lachlan takes me to my apartment.

  “Do you want to stay tonight?” I ask as I open my front door.

  He exhales roughly. “I should go find Hugh.”

  “I thought we were going to give him some space.” I set my keys on the hall table. Lachlan sets my bag by my bedroom door, then sets his hands on my shoulders. “We are. About us. But I need to make sure that we are okay about work, too.”

  Right. I flush. “Of course, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It can wait until tomorrow if you’d rather.”

  I shake my head. It’s better if Lachlan lets Hugh know as soon as possible that we want to see him at work, as friends, whatever he wants, however he wants it. And I’m planning on going to work tomorrow, too. Gavin won’t be back for another week, so I could take the rest of the week as vacation.

  If I did that, I’d be hiding.

  And how can we go about secretly seducing him back into our fold if we don’t see him?

  “Go and talk to him, then. You’re right. He needs to be reassured this won’t blow back on him.”

  He kisses me quickly. “I’ll call you once I’m home.”

  That call comes just forty-five minutes later.

  “Hey,” I say as I answer the phone.

  “He didn’t even let me into his apartment.”

  “I’m sorry.” I sit heavily on my bed. “What did he say? How did he look?”

  “He looked good.” Lachlan huffs a frustrated laugh. “I wanted him to look like shit, but no such luck. And he didn’t say much. He apologized again, but it was like he was just trying to shut down the conversation. He relaxed a bit when I told him I just wanted to talk about work. He’s back on the schedule tomorrow, but at the residence, and he’s there until the PM gets back.”

  I nod to myself, absorbing that. So I likely won’t see Hugh until next week. That…makes me sad. I thought I’d be relieved, because it’ll be awkward, but this doesn’t feel right at all. “Is it just me, or does this feel wrong?”

  “It’s not just you. But I don’t know how to make it right until he relaxes a bit.”

  “We need to tell him how we feel about him.”

  “He doesn’t want to hear it right now.”

  I frown. I know we’re at the end of a long travel day, and now is not the time to push this, but I think Lachlan’s wrong.

  I think Hugh very much wants to hear that we love him. I’d just bet anything he doesn’t believe that’s what we’d say.

  “And…” Lachlan sighs. “I’ve decided to fly back to Vancouver to meet up with the prime minister. The team out there is stretched tight.”

  I blink at the phone. This was supposed to be our time. At the cabin, but also this week as we eased back into work.

  A rare chance to be together, far from the spotlight that follows the PM around.

  And now that Hugh’s not interested, for whatever misguided reason, Lachlan’s checking out, too?

  “Fine,” I say, because what else is there to say? And it is fine. It’s not good, acceptable, ideal or any other adjective I like, but it is fine. “I should hit the hay.”

  “Beth…”

  “Good night, Lachlan.” I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

  He makes a happy exhaling noise, between a sigh and a laugh. “I love you, too.”

  The next morning, Lachlan is waiting for me outside my apartment building, leaning back against his car. I never drive to work, because it’s a quick bus ride and I like those few minutes to read. I guess today I’m getting a drive in.

  “This is a surprise,” I say, stopping in front of him. “A very nice one, though.”

  He gives me a soft, lingering kiss, then hands over a cup of coffee from the shop on the corner. “I was thinking.”

  “Mmm?” I take a sip before following him to his car.

  He opens the passenger door for me. “About how you said ‘fine’ when I told you I was flying out to Vancouver.”

  “Oh.” I stop in the space between him and the car and look up. “Well…ignore that.”

  “I don’t want to ignore that. I want to understand it.” He braces his forearm on the roof of the car and frowns down at me. “You think I shouldn’t go?”

  “I…” I trail off, but he’s asking. “I think we’d promised this week to each other, and just because Hugh backed out of that plan, I’m still here.”

  His face falls. “Shit. No, you’re right.”

  “But I get that work sometimes interferes, and you and I can hang out any time. It’s really fine.”

  “I’m starting to pick up on the nuances of the word.” He grimaces. “Why didn’t you say that last night?”

  “Because it had been a long day and I didn’t want to sound like a harridan.”

  “You’d never.”

  I shrug. “But I do understand.”

  “I didn’t book a flight.”

  “You should.”

  “I might. But I’m talking it out with you first.” He gestures for me to get into the car, and I do.

  After he’s pulled into traffic, he takes my hand, and he holds it the whole way to the Hill.

  I feel a little funny getting out of his car and heading into Centre Block with him, but nobody gives us a second look. Upstairs, I log in to my computer as he reads emails on his phone.

  We have a visit from the South African President scheduled for next month, and the communications staff have sent me the final invitation list for dinner. I read over the names carefully, comparing them to previous events. Gavin likes to mix up who gets a nod to these kinds of things, and we have a small list of people who behaved badly in the past, and maybe shouldn’t get an invite again.

  I fire back a response, nixing two names, and suggesting four others.

  Then I look up to find Lachlan watching me. “Yes?” I ask with a smile.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve just sat here and watched you work. I like it.”

  I roll my eyes. For the past year, Lachlan’s spent a lot of time at the security desk across from mine, but when he rejigged the teams after Hugh arrived, he started spending more time elsewhere. “I like it too,” I
whisper, then I sit up a bit straighter. “Now let me get back to work.”

  Just then an email comes across my screen, and from the way Lachlan straightens up and goes all serious, I can tell he’s reading it, too.

  “Our boss never really takes a knee, does he?” I say lightly, glancing across the way. “I guess you’re going to Vancouver after all.”

  43

  Hugh

  Lachlan does exactly what I asked him to do, and he leaves me alone for the rest of the week.

  It makes me feel like shit.

  I owe them both more than this cowardly, silent break-up, but every time I reach for the phone, I freeze up.

  But when he emails on Thursday night, giving me the heads up that the PM and Ellie have decided to attend a public Canada Day celebration, and he’s heading out to Vancouver to lead up the security team, I email back.

  From: Hugh Evans

  To: Lachlan Ross

  Subject: Re: Did you see the PM itinerary change?

  * * *

  I did see that, and I wondered. Makes sense.

  Email is safe. There’s some distance there, and conversations about work are fine.

  Except the bastard takes advantage of that and calls me when he lands. I answer because I can’t ignore him, and it might be about work.

  It’s not.

  “I know it’s late there,” he says quietly, and despite myself, I find myself growing hard.

  Would he know if I stroked off to the sound of his voice?

  He probably would.

  I shouldn’t.

  I probably won’t.

  “No worries,” I say, pacing around my quiet and still-empty apartment. “I was up. You at the hotel now?”

  “Just got in, yeah.”

  “Good.”

  “Hugh, we gotta talk.”

  “No we don’t.”

  “Yes we fucking do. For six weeks, we built something special, and you just blew it to smithereens without a single word.”

  Not true. I left a note. I don’t say that, though. I grit my teeth instead and let him keep pummelling me.

  “You don’t fuck and run. That is not how you show the people in your life that they’re important. You communicate. You talk things through. You’ve been involved in the D/s side of life long enough that I shouldn’t have to fucking tell you this shit.”

  He’s right. Deep down, I know better than to make and act on hasty decisions. I know better than to make decisions that affect other people without their input. But I did it anyway.

  Even though I’d planned to leave, that decision had still been spur of the moment—about halfway through the wedding ceremony, although in hindsight, it had started brewing at the rehearsal dinner. I’d changed my flight between leaving the reception and heading to the cabin.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and bang my head against the wall. “I may have made a mess of this.”

  “Ya think?”

  But I was coming from a good place, and he’s gotta know that. “It boils down to this.” I suck in a big shaky breath and let it out slowly. “The wedding brought into focus something I’d been ignoring. Something I didn’t want to see.”

  “What the hell do you think you saw?”

  “You and Beth. You’ve got a forever kind of love.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I’m not really built for long-term relationships.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Hugh?”

  “The three of us, together, is something that can never happen. You and Beth had feelings for each other long before I showed up. And while it’s been a lot of fun, it’s time for me to bow out and leave the two of you work your way towards happily ever after.”

  “I’m going to stop you right there, dick-for-brains. It’s clear you need some space. But you don’t know what the hell we want, or how we want it.”

  I smile at his trash talking, but it’s a weak, passing happiness. The truth is, I know what I want, and I know it’s not possible. “Fair point,” I admit. “I shouldn’t have put this on you guys. I’m the one who can’t…”

  “Can’t what?”

  I don’t know how to answer that right now. “I just can’t.”

  He huffs in frustration, then growls. “Fine. You should do something with Beth this weekend. Grab a coffee.”

  “Yeah.” But we both know I won’t.

  He might think it’s because I’m scared, but I know better.

  I walked away while I still could. I won’t be able to do it again. If I go back to them, it’ll be until they’re done with me.

  “I’ll let you get to sleep,” he finally says, quietly. “I’m going to text you something after we hang up, so don’t turn your phone off.”

  “I couldn’t even if I wanted to, I’ve gotta work in the morning.”

  He laughs and we say goodbye.

  The text is a photo. It’s a sucker punch to the gut, because it’s a picture he must have taken that day at the cabin. Beth in my arms, and we’re both laughing and…

  Damn him.

  We look like we’re in love.

  Another text comes in. This one is a threat, and completely justified.

  Lachlan: Remember, you made her cry. Don’t do it again.

  Direct hit. If she calls me for coffee, or anything else, I won’t be able to say no now.

  Well played, Ross. Well played.

  44

  Beth

  July

  I spend Canada Day by myself, doing a month’s worth of meal prep. Living the damn life, I am. In the end, Lachlan flew out to Vancouver, and I don’t blame him. Gavin and Ellie are going to to a public parade today, and the turnout is going to be crazy.

  His first priority has to be to keep the PM safe, and while he trusts his team, it’s not the same as if he’s walking six feet behind the man himself.

  So I’ve got the first weekend of July to myself, and by Sunday, I’m going squirrelly.

  Sasha calls and when she picks up on the fact I’m in the dumps, she suggests retail therapy.

  I can’t afford retail therapy, Sasha-style, so I beg off and tear my closet apart instead. I ask myself if each piece brings me joy, and pretty soon I have a massive pile of stuff to donate.

  Maybe when one of your boyfriends has shut you out for stupid, makes-no-sense reasons isn’t the best time to do a joy-test on clothing.

  But I’m on a roll, so I go to my dresser next.

  The first thing I see is that bra and panties set I bought last month. That I took pictures of and sent to Hugh.

  Damn him.

  Without overthinking it, I reach for my phone.

  * * *

  Beth: I miss you.

  * * *

  Of course he doesn’t reply. So, hands shaking, I take a picture.

  No lingerie. Just me, bare and wanting him. My arm across my breasts, the curve of my neck, the side of my lip caught in my teeth.

  I hit send.

  He shows up forty-five minutes later, freshly showered. His eyes are dark and haunted.

  “This is a bad idea,” he says roughly as he follows me down the hallway and into my living room.

  I put on a robe to answer the door, just in case, but he came in. He let that door shut behind him.

  I drop the robe. “Is it?”

  “Beth…”

  “I miss you. That’s all.” I swallow hard. That’s a lie. “This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “Of course it means something.” He’s closer now.

  I want to glare at him, to jut my chin and tell him I know. It means everything. But something scared him off. We need to walk us back to a place he can handle.

  A place where we’re naked and laughing and love is a hazy threat still in the future.

  He throws himself onto my couch and spreads his arms wide. “Do you have an itch you need to scratch, beautiful? Because I can do that. But there can’t be any strings attached.”

  “No strings,” I whisper, even as
my heart drops.

  “And you tell Lachlan about this.” His eyes go bright at that.

  “I’ll tell him everything,” I promise. “Every hot, delicious detail. And he’ll do the same if you visit him.”

  He watches me through guarded eyes as I crawl into his lap, his big hands squeezing my thighs. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Okay.” I don’t argue the point. Of course it’s going to happen. We’ve already learned once that willpower is no match for the chemistry between the three of us, or any combination therein.

  “Show me what you want,” he says hoarsely.

  Without hesitation, I cup my breasts, teasing my nipples with my fingers. My eyelids flutter as I feel his gaze sweeping over my body. His attention is just as potent as my touch, and I want more of it. “Tell me what to do next.”

  “Show me that you’re wet already.” His voice hardens as he takes over.

  I reach one hand between my legs and swipe at the ready moisture there. It strings between my fingers, clear and slippery.

  “Feed it to me.”

  I gasp as heat enflames me, but I do as I’m told, lifting my fingers to his mouth. He licks them clean, his tongue flat and broad.

  He takes his time.

  He makes it dirtier than I thought possible. “Delicious,” he whispers as his tongue slides off the tip of my ring finger. “More.”

  I stroke myself again, then offer him my hand.

  Back and forth we go, until I’m squirming and he’s rock hard beneath me.

  Then he picks me up without a word and carries me into the bedroom. I watch, every muscle in my body screaming to be used and abused, as he strips out of his jeans and t-shirt.

  I don’t miss that he came over commando.

  He wanted this just as much as I do.

  When he’s naked, he crowds against me, pushing me up on the bed. I tangle my fingers in his hair and search for his lips with mine.

  He stops me. “No kissing.”