by Lacie Thorne
“You’re beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes and dipped the other half of the berry in a scoop of yoghurt before popping it into her mouth. I stood, rounding the table, and leaned down to kiss her neck. She tilted her head to the side, giving me more access as she lifted her hand to bury it in my hair.
I grabbed her waist, lifting and twisting her in one deft move so she stood in front of me. Our lips met in a fierce kiss, and I pushed my tongue into her mouth as I set her bruised ass down on the dining table beside the mess of breakfast dishes. She tasted like sweet berries and honey, an addictive combination on her lips.
Emily moaned as I stepped between her legs, nudging her knees apart while our tongues stayed locked in their own dance. I dipped my fingers under the shirt hem, skimming her belly and the undersides of her breasts. She broke away, panting as I kissed a line down her neck, my hands finding the lone button still holding the shirt closed. I flicked it free—
“Sam,” she gasped.
Not a sexy gasp.
Alarm dripped from her tone even with just one word, and she stiffened against me.
I stepped back, mind racing to figure out what the fuck I’d done wrong. Her head was turned towards the side, and when I followed her gaze, my oldest friend glowered at me from the open glass doors leading to the driveway.
Fuck.
“Garret—”
“Fuck you, Sam.” He turned glacial eyes on Emily. “So, he’s the pussy, huh? Fitting, Emmy.”
A strange sound left her, something like a sob but not quite. She scrambled to climb off the table, clutching my shirt tighter to shield her breasts as she brushed past me. “Garret, I can explain.”
“This is why you were acting so fucking weird yesterday, isn’t it?” His voice went low. “Why you got so jumpy when I touched you.”
I growled under my breath, soft enough neither of them noticed, but I hated the thought he’d touched her. The fact she hadn’t told me pissed me off even more. Jealousy sparked to life deep in my gut.
Garret turned his face away from Emily, not even looking at her now. “It had nothing to do with your injury or retirement. It did have something to do with Sam, just not what I expected. And there I was, practically offering myself to you, like an idiot. Since you’d made it seem like you hadn’t found anyone at The Noire House.”
He shook his head. “And, you know, I was worried about you this morning? I tried calling about ten times, but you didn’t answer. Then I tried the bastard behind you and got nothing.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I thought you might be together. I mean, it’s Monday so you should be helping the fucker with his company, right?”
“Garret, please,” she cried, edging closer to him and further from me. “I wanted to tell you—”
“I expected to find you both distracted with some ballet shit. Or at least I hoped that was it. That you hadn’t been in an accident. That you weren’t lying dead along the side of the road or in the hospital.” He glared at her. “But no, you were just too busy fucking him on the breakfast table.”
Garret spun on his heel and walked down the driveway. To my complete surprise, Emily followed him, dressed in nothing but panties and my shirt. Anger burned a path through my chest. I busied my hands clearing the table, a bitter taste replacing the sweetness of breakfast.
I fumed around the kitchen, cleaning and cursing when she didn’t return. Would she always choose Garret over everyone else? Over me?
I was still seething when she finally stepped back into the house—alone—her cheeks red and watery eyes bloodshot. She swiped at a stray tear falling down her cheek as I loaded the dishwasher.
“I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me,” she whispered, voice cracking.
I slammed the dishwasher closed. “Maybe if you kneel on his front porch and offer to wear his collar.”
“Sam?”
I avoided her eyes as I wiped the counters down. “What? Too far? I didn’t think it would be a problem. Not for the two of you, right?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said, Emmy.” I used his nickname for her like an insult, throwing it at her. “You two act like Dom and sub, so why not make it official?”
I finally met her eyes, anger and pain staring back at me with enough force I cringed.
“You know why. I don’t care about Garret—not like that. We’re not compatible—”
“And yet you live in the house he owns. You have lunch dates with him and his dad. He pays for you to visit The Noire House. He practically fucking funds your entire company, which I guess makes him your boss. Or wait, maybe he’s more like an owner. You sure as hell run after him enough to prove it.” I threw the dishcloth into the sink. “You’re collared whether there’s one around your neck or not.”
“You bastard.” Her voice was low, no shouting, but it cut like the jagged edge of broken glass. “Garret doesn’t own me. He doesn’t own my house—”
“Well, you’re sure as fuck wrong there.”
“It’s a rental. Through an agent.”
I nodded, some of my anger fading in the knowledge she didn’t know this particular snippet of information. “Yeah. But he owns it. I remember him telling me you lived in a derelict shotgun, and he didn’t want that for his precious Emmy. He bought the old building. Had it fixed up for you so at least you’d be living in a decent shotgun. Without you knowing, apparently.”
She gaped, mouth hanging open as she stumbled back into the dining table. “You’re wrong. He wouldn’t do that.”
“Really?” I asked in a low tone. “You’d be fucking surprised.”
She scowled and turned to the hallway, footsteps impossibly hard on the floor as she fled upstairs. Blue strode after her, giving me the doggy equivalent of a glare before disappearing. I sighed and leaned back on the kitchen counter, anger still churning the breakfast in my stomach and heating my veins.
But just beneath that, guilt simmered.
I paced the kitchen while the anger and jealousy eased from my system, replaced with more and more regret. Seeing her run after Garret had set off the worst response in me, and while I still worried things weren’t so black and white between them, I shouldn’t take out my own issues on Emily.
She didn’t deserve it.
With a huff, I bounded up the stairs, expecting to find her in the guestroom, maybe even packing although she’d been gone for far longer than it’d take her to grab her stuff. But the room was empty. Light thuds echoed through the ceiling, so I took the second flight of stairs to the studio. Blue met me at the entrance, standing from his sprawl on the floor like a guardian. Emily had cleared the LED candles, pushed them into a corner near the rumpled bed.
She broke off mid-pirouette but didn’t look at me, still dressed in nothing more than her underwear and my shirt. “You ruined everything, Sam.”
My gaze fell to her feet, the deep red pointe shoes I’d had specially transformed into ankle cuffs now merely edgy dance attire.
“Last night was perfect.” She walked to the wall of mirrors, lifted a leg to rest her ankle on the barre while the other went up en pointe, stretching even though it had to hurt after last night. “This morning was perfect. And then you act like that?”
She draped her torso over her leg, touching one hand to her raised foot. The shirt hem crept up, revealing the bruises on her ass and inner thighs. The marks I’d left. Marks Garret had to have seen.
“You ruined it,” she gritted out, voice muffled. “And I hate that you did.”
My guilt and regret trebled. “You really didn’t know?”
“That Garret owns my fucking house?” she asked, turning her head to finally look at me.
I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping eye contact without saying a word. She knew that’s what I meant.
Emily rose and switched legs, extending her other foot up onto the barre, making me wait as she repeated the stretch. When she finally turned to face me,
back to the barre, she shook her head. “He offered to buy me a house once, but I told him I’d never accept that. I didn’t want to feel kept—owned—not even by him. I wanted a home that was purely mine.” She swiped at the sheen of sweat on her brow. “I can’t believe he’d do something like this. Especially behind my back when he knew it wasn’t what I wanted.”
She gripped the barre behind her with both hands and bent at the waist, folding her body in half. When she rose back up, tears shone in her eyes and my gut clenched. Fucking Garret. With a sigh, I walked over to her and pulled her into my arms. I expected her to resist, but she relaxed against me, allowing me to carry her over to the bed and set her on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her, and she sank against my chest, tears soaking my shirt.
“Wait.” She tilted her head to look up at me. “You were mad.”
“I am.” I caught a tear with my thumb. “But I also care about you—deeply—and I can’t stand by and watch you cry.”
She grabbed my wrist before I could pull my hand away. “You have to believe there’s nothing going on with Garret.”
I gritted my teeth, because I still wasn’t sure. He loved her, that was a fact, but watching her run after him left me wondering how she truly felt about him.
Emily cupped my face between her palms. “I’m serious, Sam. We’re not the right mix.”
“Is that the only reason?” I lifted my hand to close my fingers around her neck. “Because from where I’m sitting, you two aren’t that incompatible. Maybe you thought you wouldn’t mesh well with him before you’d had a taste of this life. What if you’ve changed your mind?” I let go of her neck, trailing my hand down to her heart. “What if you decide he’s the one you’ve really wanted all this time?”
Her eyes softened and she shifted, twisting until she straddled my thighs. “Is that why you’re being a jealous ass again?”
I glared, fisting her hips to lift her off me, but she grunted and circled her arms around my neck, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“For a tough Dom, you can really be an insecure little flower sometimes.” She held me tighter when I growled, getting ready to slide her off. “Wait, I’m not done.”
Emily dragged her hands down my torso, slipping them under the hem of my shirt so her fingers grazed the hair below my navel. She skimmed her fingers up my stomach, across my sternum, until she settled both palms over my bare chest.
“I love Garret.” She clenched her knees at my hips, probably expecting me to recoil from her admission—rightly so. “But I love him like family. Strictly platonic. I’ve realized those lines are kind of blurred between us, and I’m trying to fix it. That’s what he meant earlier. When he said he’d touched me.”
I frowned, confused about how she knew I’d reacted to that. How it bothered the hell out of me.
Emily touched my chin with one finger. “I heard you growl when Garret mentioned it. He’d touched my back, and I pulled away from him. Nothing happened, okay? Nothing ever will.” Her hands drifted to my neck, curling around until her fingers grazed my hairline. “And yes, I want to fix things with him. Not just because he’s my best friend, but because he’s your friend, too. I don’t want either of us to lose him because of this. Maybe he just needs time to come around.”
The pressure in my ribcage eased, my hands loosening their bruising grip on her hips.
She smiled. “And once he does, I’m going to rip into him for buying my damn house.”
“I’m sorry.” I tucked her hair behind one ear. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.”
“But I’m glad I did.” Her shoulders visibly sagged, fingers trailing down my torso again. “You’re right about one thing. Garret’s been controlling more and more of my life as the years went on, and I don’t think either of us realized it. I doubt he did it on purpose. That’s not his style. It just sort of—progressed without us noticing. Same with the touching, I guess.”
She frowned, staring at the center of my chest, absently drawing patterns over my skin. “Somewhere along the way, things got confused. I think we’ve used each other as surrogates without meaning to. A sort of codependency.”
I silently agreed with her, but I suspected Garret was far more aware of it than Emily. Maybe not on a completely conscious level, but to a certain degree, he knew.
“Anyway,” she said with a little shake of her head. “My point is that while I’ll always love Garret as a friend, you have to trust me. The same way I trust you, okay?”
I clenched my jaw tight, but she made a very good argument. It was a dick move to demand her trust and not grant her the same courtesy. I couldn’t change the way Garret felt, but I could trust that Emily didn’t love him the same way. “Okay. I trust you.”
Her watery eyes lit up. “Good, because I need you to accept that I’ll never care for him the way I care for you.” She leaned closer, lips brushing mine when she next spoke. “I’ll never want him like I want you.”
“I want you, too. For as long as you’ll have me.” I blurted the words before I even had time to really think about them. But it was true.
“Really?”
“Fuck yes.”
She laughed and leaned in to kiss me. We’d still have to deal with the fallout with Garret, but for now I’d never been happier. “I want you in two very different ways, Emily. I want your tight little body in my bed. And I want your talented pointe shoes on my stage.”
“Even when I’m old and have to retire?”
I shook my head, whispering against her lips. “Even when you’re old. But no more talk of retirement. We’ll deal with that only when we have to.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emily
Two weeks later, Garret finally agreed to have coffee with me at our usual little café—not that it did much good. He was still beyond pissed. Mostly because I’d lied to him.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Emmy?” He could barely keep eye contact. “Why did you guys go behind my back for who knows how long?”
“It wasn’t that long, and it’s not like we planned it.” I reached across the table to take his hand, but he pulled away. “Garret, please. I didn’t mean to lie to you. We were going to tell you. I was going to tell you, but there wasn’t a right time—”
“And yet you had time to fuck him.” His words were low, spoken so only I heard him—or at least I hoped no one else in the crowded café did. “You could have told me any time, Emmy. Hell, why not the night at Le Salon Rouge?”
“And why didn’t you tell me you bought my house?” I tossed at him before I thought better of the words.
He glared. “Because I wanted you safe. I did it to protect you. Not to hurt you. I didn’t want you living in a dump—”
“But that wasn’t your choice. It was mine.” My voice hardened. “I told you that. You promised you wouldn’t interfere, but instead you went behind my back and did the exact opposite. You took control of my life without my consent.”
“Because I love you,” he growled. “Not just as a friend, and you fucking know that.”
He slammed a hand on the table, coffee cups clattering, and I twitched in my seat. Patrons glanced over at us with questioning stares but quickly went back to their own conversations. My nose tingled, tears threatening to form in my eyes as I searched for the right words, something that would magically fix this.
But I had nothing.
“Was Sam the pussy the whole time?” he gritted out, staring right at me now. “From that first night?”
I kept my eyes fixed on my coffee cup and nodded. “I didn’t know he was your friend, or that you even knew each other. The night you brought him to see Phantom, that’s when we found out.” I huffed out a deep breath. “Honestly, I didn’t even know his last name until that night. Nor that he was involved in the dance world, let alone a legendary choreographer.”
Garret grunted but didn’t comment. He stared off at the bustling street, long minutes of strained silence pulsing between us. I wanted to t
urn back time and confess everything the night we’d all had dinner after the gala, fix this entire awkward situation and get my best friend back.
But that might cost me Sam.
I waited, hoping Garret would suddenly forgive me, and we could all have a happily ever after. When he turned back to meet my gaze, hope flared to life in my chest.
“I need time, Emmy.” He waved a hand between us. “A break from this. Us.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling. “Okay,” I whispered, even as my heart crushed behind my ribs.
He stared at me, hard features softening. “Maybe our friendship was always doomed.”
A sharp sob tore from my mouth. “Garret—”
“I’m serious, Em. Whoever heard of a Dom and sub, who weren’t playing together, being friends?” He shook his head. “You were right when you said it was weird. Confusing. We were probably deluding ourselves all along.”
He rose from his seat and dug out his wallet, tossing several bills on the table, then lingered a moment. My hope returned, but I squashed it down with logic. He wasn’t about to change his mind so suddenly. I knew that, because I knew him.
“I hope you’ll be happy together, Emmy.” His tone was genuine, not a trace of anger or even sarcasm. But I swore I caught a tiny hint of regret. “Honestly, I do. But I can’t sit by and watch. Not yet.”
Garret left, and it felt like he took a little piece of me with him, a chip from my heart I wouldn’t get back until he returned to my life.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sam
“You’re a fucking son of a bitch, you know that?” I blurted the moment I stepped into Garret’s office.
My muscles vibrated with anger, and I fisted my hands at my sides to keep from lashing out. I wasn’t the physically violent type, never had been, but Emily called after seeing Garret only an hour ago. Her sobs echoed through the speaker as she told me what happened, and I lost it. I expected the guy to need some time to cool off, but it had been two weeks, and he was still being an ass.