Rogue Ever After (The Rogue Series Book 7)

by Tamsen Parker

  That I love her and want her because she’s shared, not in spite of her secret.

  We all have secrets. It’s a treasure to find someone to give them to.

  She kisses me back, tentatively at first, then eagerly.

  We’re still wearing all of our clothes. She’s dressed for work, and I’m in jeans. Under the blanket, it quickly heats up, and we get tangled together.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Tangles are just fine.

  “Dinner can wait longer, right?” Penny kisses down my neck, her fingers finding the curve of my breast over my t-shirt.

  “It can wait as long as we want it to.”

  She pushes the blanket off and discards her cardigan. “Good.”

  5

  Penny

  It takes a month to transition out of my job at City Hall and join the congresswoman’s team full-time.

  The weeks fly by. I spend two weekends in D.C., and Tanya comes with me both times. That’s not a luxury we’ll get again for quite a while, but it was nice to have her company on those nights in a relatively new-to-me city.

  Both of us feel a new intensity to our connection.

  We spend a lot of time talking about the possibility of dating other people. What the bounds on that would be.

  What would happen if a crush turned into love, into falling in love, into a forever kind of love?

  Would either of us want a triad relationship?

  My crush on Win invariably comes up there, too. Tanya and Win have been friends for more than a decade. They have never dated. Never been interested in that.

  “She’s a wild child,” Tanya says simply. “And I like quiet. But maybe you need a bit more noise in your life.”

  Tanya loves quiet. And I am her quiet.

  But I love quiet and loud. I love Tanya for her head-down focus on her career, on her research, her areas of interest.

  And yet I am so drawn to the rebel, the resister, the rabble rouser in Win.

  The glorious, beautiful protest artist.

  Who I haven’t seen in ages, even though we live in the same building.

  Maybe I’m avoiding her.

  And it’s time for that to end.

  * * *

  I have it all planned out. Tanya teaches a night class every Thursday. I hate Thursdays, because they’re at the end of the week and I miss my girlfriend.

  So my great plan is to ask Win out on a date, for a Thursday.

  The plan does not work in the least.

  For one thing, I wait too long. Classic dating error. I text Win on Tuesday, and she already has plans.

  Penny: Hey! Long time no see. I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee on Thursday night.

  Win: I have plans on Thursday, sorry. But I would like to catch up. Friday?

  I stare at my phone. Friday night is when Tanya and I usually catch up after the week. We’ve talked about this. I want to protect those. Can’t make an exception off the bat.

  Penny: Tan’s home on Friday night. How about next week?

  Win: I just texted her. Let’s do a group thing!

  My face bursts into flames. How does my awkward attempt to ask someone out on a date turn into her texting my partner?

  Luckily Tanya thinks it’s hilarious, because ten seconds later a text pops up from her.

  Tanya: So maybe Win didn’t get the idea that you were asking her out? She just pinged me for going out for drinks with you and her on Friday. What do you want me to say back?

  Penny: Nothing. I suck at this. Maybe we should forget it.

  Tanya: Or…

  Penny: Yes, Ms. Optimism?

  Tanya: Go upstairs and talk to her.

  Penny: Maybe she isn’t home.

  Tanya: She is.

  Penny: OMG.

  Tanya: I was thinking of staying late at work, would that be okay with you?

  Penny: Sure, of course.

  Tanya: I love you. Have fun.

  Oh my God. My heart skips a beat as I quickly type back my response. Four words I’ve written to her many times, but right now they have an extra-special meaning.

  Penny: I love you too.

  Then I dial her number, because I want to hear her voice for a minute before I do this.

  “Yes?” she answers. Nothing but patience. Nothing but grace. My love is an old, sweet soul.

  “Friday nights are yours,” I blurt out. “Ours. Which we can share with our friends, and other partners, but you come first.”

  “We’ll sort it out,” she says. “I have marking to do. Go kiss the woman already, if she wants to. If you want to.”

  Butterflies take off in my chest. I want to.

  I hope she still wants to.

  I hope I haven’t dithered too long.

  6

  Win

  I’ve just put my phone down and gone back to my painting when there’s a knock at my apartment door.

  “It’s open,” I holler.

  Whoever it is doesn’t enter.

  I lift my voice even louder. “I’m painting, but you can come in.”

  The handle turns, and the door opens a crack. Then it slowly swings wide.

  Penny steps in gingerly and looks around. “Oh,” she says, her gaze sweeping over my set up. Easel, folding table covered in paint. “I didn’t know you were working when I texted.”

  “That was at the end of my lunch.”

  She frowns, confusion genuinely rolling over her face. Adorable. “It’s dinnertime.”

  “I slept in, and will stay up late. Dinner will be around midnight.”

  She grins. “That’s fun.”

  “I like my lack of a routine. Most of the time.” I add one last stroke of red to the torso on my canvas, then set my brush in the jar and grab a rag to wipe my hands. “What’s up?”

  “I…” She takes a deep breath and moves closer. “So Tanya and I have been talking, and we’ve decided to open up our relationship.”

  My chest pulls tight. I’ve seen this dance before. It’ll be hard for Penny to adjust to Tanya dating other people. Maybe they’ll survive it, maybe they won’t. “How do you feel about that?”

  She blinks. “Pretty good.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She licks her lips.

  “You don’t need to do this, you know. If she’s pushing you— Of course I think polyamory is the shit, because people are complicated, but honey, if you don’t want your partner to date other people, that’s okay, too. Totally okay, and she knew that when she fell in love with. She can’t have her cake and eat it, too.”

  Penny’s eyes are wide, and I realize I’m snapping at her. Like, whew, I did not see that blaze of protective anger coming. Shit.

  I shake my head fiercely. “I’ve just overstepped. Sorry. Let’s back up. Can you ignore that? Your relationship is yours to track, not mine. But I like you a lot, and I want the best for you. You know?”

  She nods mutely.

  “So what do you want? That’s all that matters.”

  “I want my cake and I want to eat it, too,” she whispers.

  Now it’s my turn to blink. “Huh?”

  Not the classiest of responses. But I’m not following.

  Her mouth spreads into a wide, nervous smile. Big eyes, trembling lips. “I’m the one who wants to date people. Maybe Tanya will, too. Both of us are finding it a little bit hard to be each other’s everything, but not in a bad way. Just in a…there’s room in our hearts for more, maybe, kind of way. Does that make sense?”

  The tight feeling in my chest explodes, ribbons of heat and desire and excitement and confusion spiraling out in all directions. “So when you asked if I was free on Thursday night…”

  “I was asking you out on a date.”

  I step forward, bumping into my paint table. My pulse pounds as I steady it, then move around. Closer.

  Penny brushes a strand of hair off her face, her eyes big and questioning. “Would you be interested in getting coffee with me sometime? Just the two o
f us. Drinks with Tanya on Friday sounds good, too, by the way. She says she’s in for whatever, but Friday nights are our thing, me and Tanya, and so I was wondering if—maybe next week, whenever—Thursdays could be a day for us to get to know each other better.”

  I stop right in front of her. I smell like paint, probably. She smells sweet and glorious. “Do you want to get coffee right now?”

  “I—”

  “I can make us some here, if you’d rather.”

  “Oh—” She swallows hard.

  I don’t think she could be cuter if she tried. “Penny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve had a crush on you since forever. I can cancel my plans on Thursday. I can cancel my plans right now.”

  “But you’re painting.” Her confusion is adorable.

  I check my hands quickly. Paint free. Lifting my fingers to hover next to her cheek, I soften my voice. “Can I touch you?”

  Her gaze flares bright and hopeful. “Yes.”

  I brush my knuckles ever so softly against her skin and she shivers. Then I lean in, breathing in more of her scent. Stopping right before our lips meet, I smile. “I was painting you. Because I can’t have you. Because I’ve been trying to get you out of my heart, and now I don’t need to, so the painting can wait.”

  She pushes up on her toes, making contact with my mouth. She’s smiling, too. I can feel it, and then her lips part, and we’re kissing.

  “Is this okay?” I manage to ask between slow, exploratory tastes.

  She laughs gently. “Yes. This is more than okay.”

  It’s going to take us a while to get to coffee.

  7

  Tanya

  When I get home, I hear whistling, and music bouncing out of the bedroom, where I find Penny sorting laundry and wiggling her hips.

  She’s beaming. Like a fucking flower. No wait, that would be blooming… Fuck it. I don’t know what she’s doing, how to describe the light in her eyes and the warm flush to her skin, the obvious happiness radiating off her that feels sharp and weird when it hits my skin.

  So going upstairs went well, I gather.

  I exhale and sit with that. This is what I want. I’ve read about this. Weird feelings about metamours. That’s what Win might be for me.

  One afternoon, Tanya. Slow down on the poly attachment.

  But my Penny is happy, so happy, and it feels weird, but it’s also feels right. I want this to be right, I realize, and I’m pushing myself to feel okay with it.

  “Hey,” she says when she spies me grinning at her from the doorway.

  “You look happy.”

  “Mmm.” She dances across the room to me. “I am. And I was so happy to come home and wait for you, too,” she whispers, tracing her fingers along my jaw.

  A jolt slashes along my nerve endings. My lips part, wanting her touch closer to my mouth. “Missed you,” I murmur.

  She stops and looks at me. “Did you?”

  I hesitate, then give her a rueful smile. “For a minute. And then I dove into my work.”

  She grins. “Good.”

  “Did you want me to miss you?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I want you to miss me just for a minute, and be glad when we’re back together, but no, I don’t want you to miss me when you’re working.”

  “Do you want to tell me about your afternoon?”

  “I went upstairs. It was funny, at first, because she thought I was trying to tell her that you wanted to date other people, and she got all protective of me. That was cute.”

  I can see that playing out, and I groan. “But eventually you straightened it out?”

  “We did.” She gives a happy sigh. “And then we…kissed. Is that okay for me to tell you?”

  “Yes.” I brush my lips at the corner of her mouth. “Go on.”

  “We kissed for a while. And then we had coffee, and talked. And talked. Then we kissed some more, and made a date for Thursday night. A second date, I suppose. So now I’m sorting laundry so I’ll have something nice to wear.”

  “How fun.” Speaking of protective… “At some point I should probably talk to her, too. Or all three of us together. And we’ll need boundaries there so I don’t go off on Win if she breaks your heart.”

  Penny tilts her head to the side. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.” She looks at me, so solemn. “I mean, I know you’ll never break my heart. I didn’t think about having a whole heart and a broken heart at the same time. Maybe it won’t be so bad when Win and I end.”

  When.

  Not if.

  I’d forgotten that feeling, of knowing that some relationships are fleeting, and others are long term but definitely not forever.

  Until I met Penny, I didn’t think any relationship would ever be forever.

  And yet here I am, happy for my lover—my forever lover, my perfect other half, who one day I would very much like to be my wife—to have paramours.

  For me to be the one who shares a permanent partner, when I was on the other side for so long. Always on the outside, always a secondary partner.

  I liked it.

  It was safe.

  And now, holding Penny in my arms after a long day of work for me, and a wonderful first date for her, I realize nothing is safe with her.

  And yet, in a wholly unexpected way, everything is so much better.

  Maybe she’ll fall in love with Win.

  I smile.

  That would be unexpectedly wonderful, too. The thought of my beloved being loved that much.

  “What just made you smile?” Penny asks, her voice a gentle whisper.

  “Love. That’s it. Pure love.”

  * * *

  Thank you for reading Love Your Love, the fourth story in my Girls Who Love Girls series! The first three stories are available in earlier Rogue anthologies. I also write m/f and m/m/f political romance, in the Frisky Beavers and Forbidden Bodyguards series.

  To explore all of my books, please visit my website at www.ainsleybooth.com

  Other Books by Ainsley Booth

  If you like silly, sexy, over the top fairy tale romances…

  Billionaire Secrets

  Personal Delivery

  Personal Escort

  Personal Disaster

  And how about some Canadian erotic romance?

  Frisky Beavers

  Prime Minister

  Dr. Bad Boy

  Full Mountie

  Mr. Hat Trick

  Retrosexual

  Or you might want intense, off-limits book boyfriends…

  Forbidden Bodyguards

  Hate F*@k

  Booty Call

  Dirty Love

  If you enjoy some #Resistance with your romance…

  Rogue Anthologies

  Rogue Desire

  Rogue Affair

  Rogue Acts

  About the Author

  Mom by day and filthy romance writer by night, Ainsley is super grateful for caffeine, banana and blueberry muffins, and yoga pants. Born and raised in Ontario, she's traveled the world and come back home to write about book boyfriends (and girlfriends) with maple leaf tattoos. She's the USA Today bestselling author of Hate F*@k and Prime Minister. You can sign up for her newsletter HERE.

  ainsleybooth.com/

  Starlet Struck

  Tamsen Parker

  About This Story

  At the hottest awards show of the season, It Girl Hadley Beaumont should be rocking the red carpet with some Hollywood hunk on her arm. But this year she’ll be escorting out-and-proud Archer Kydd instead.

  Going to some prissy-ass awards ceremony is low on Archer’s to-do list. She has more important things to do than spend an evening in a gown that costs more than her car. But she’ll go to bring attention to the work she loves: advocating for homeless LGBTQ youth.

  Sparks fly instantly but Archer’s resentment of closeted Hadley might burn hotter than her passion, and it will take more than off-the-charts chemistry to convince Hadley to risk her
career.

  1

  “This is so fucking frivolous it makes me sick. Why am I doing this again?”

  Archer fluffed the skirt of her ballgown in the mirror. It was an abomination. Also gorgeous—the ombre blue that went from white at the bodice to navy at the hem that grazed the ground with silver stars sprinkling up and down from a concentration at the waist—but mostly it was horrifying. This dress cost as much as her rent for a year for fuck’s sake. Gross, gross, gross.

  She wanted to spill a bottle of cheap Syrah on it and the other dresses her stylist—what the fuck, she had a stylist now?—had brought by out of spite, like PETA tossing paint on furs, but that was fucking wasteful. Archer was a lot of not-so-great things, but wasteful wasn’t one of them. She couldn’t afford to be and still eat on the meager salary she earned. Activism might be satisfying down to her unpainted toenails, but it was not lucrative. Also, her stylist had been nice.

  “Because—”

  “Because it will bring attention to the cause, blah, blah. Yes, I know. It was rhetorical.”

  Being the director of programming Rivera House was a dream come true. She’d worked there since graduating from college ten years ago, steadily rising in the ranks and now she was near the top. Sometimes the scraping for funding and knowing she was helping only a fraction of the kids out there who needed it made it seem like a nightmare in which her unending hustle resulted in only meager improvements, but she couldn’t imagine anything she’d rather do. It was a bit of a conundrum sometimes, doing work that would allow her to live with herself, to sleep at night, but also lie awake in her bed because she was tied up in knots for not doing enough or worrying about every penny spent.