by Opal Carew
All four hands stopped. Then Noah was there, kneeling down to meet her gaze. “Drink this, baby.” He placed the bottle of water to her lips and she drank two sips before she began to drift again.
* * *
Why the hell had she said Noah’s name? Ty made himself continue to touch Tasha, to slide his hands over her perfect curves and ignore the jealousy that ripped through him. Damn it. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
The golden haze that had fallen over his mind suddenly cleared, and Ty was pissed. He just couldn’t fucking win. He’d played the Dominant role in the scene and Noah had been his wingman, yet Tasha had called for Noah.
Noah started to give her more water and Ty stepped in. “I’ll take care of the rest,” he said. He realized his voice sounded cold and angry.
Immediate regret followed when he saw Noah blink and then the pain flash over his features. When Noah rose and turned his back, Ty realized he’d been an ass. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Wait. Noah—”
“No now and not here,” Noah said firmly. “I’ll…see you back at home.”
And he was gone. Ty closed his eyes. Idiot. He was a fucking idiot. He’d give anything to take back the tone, the intentional hurt that he’d just delivered.
But he had a submissive deep in subspace who needed aftercare, not drama. He plopped down on his butt and pulled Tasha into his lap, gratified that she curled against him, but realizing he was missing an essential part of the scene.
Tasha mumbled against his chest and he had to loosen his hold to hear her. “What, baby?”
“He didn’t come. That’s not fair. He made me come,” she said, and then drifted off again.
Ty stared at the woman in his arms. That was why she’d said Noah’s name. Even completely gone, she’d noted that Noah hadn’t gotten to release. Ty groaned and dropped his head to touch hers. He was so stupid. How was he going to fix this?
After several long minutes that were both agony and bliss, Ty tipped Tasha’s chin up so she had to meet his gaze. “Can you walk? Or shall I carry you?”
Her eyes were glazed and dreamy. She was all soft and fluid in his arms. “Walk?”
He stroked her cheek. “You know. One foot in front of the other.”
“I feel…” Her eyes closed and her head dropped back. “I feel weird.”
It shouldn’t have surprised him when she started to tremble. “It’s sub drop. It’s like a sugar crash, only not.”
“Helpful,” she said through chattering teeth.
Ty shifted her in his arms and rubbed her skin. “It’s okay, baby. I have you.” This would have been easier had Ty not pissed Noah off. No, not pissed him off. Hurt him.
The shaking subsided a little and her eyes looked less glazed. “Where’s Noah?” she asked, and glanced around the room.
“He went home.” Ty threaded his fingers through her hair to soothe her. He should have known she wouldn’t be placated.
She sat up and away from him to meet his gaze. He tried to keep his emotions off his face, but it wasn’t easy. She seemed to pick up on his discomfort anyway.
“Why?” All the submission he’d enjoyed earlier was gone.
He gritted his teeth. “I— Look, why don’t we take this conversation home? We’re both pretty wrung out.”
“If I thought we’d actually talk when we got home, I’d say yes.” Tasha’s straightforward stare held his. “It’s always something. ‘After the holidays.’ ‘When my schedule isn’t so crazy.’ You’ve had a million reasons why we can’t talk about our relationship.”
“Okay. Let’s talk.” Damn it. Could he sound anymore reluctant? This wasn’t going to go well.
Sure enough, her eyes widened. “I thought Noah was part of this. Is he or isn’t he?”
“Of course he is.” If he stuck around. And why the hell should he? Ty hadn’t been easy to live with.
For what seemed like an eternity, Tasha stared at him. Finally she shook her head and rose unsteadily to her feet. “Take me home, Ty. When you’re ready to be honest, let me know.”
As Tasha headed for the door, picking up her clothes and jerking them on, he struggled with his frustration. “I am being honest. I don’t know what you want from me.”
She stopped, turned around and took a deep breath. “You do. You know what I want. You know what Noah wants. You don’t know what you want from us, from the three of us together.” She cocked her head to the side. “It’s not easy, is it? This idea that three people can be together, love each other. I don’t know why I didn’t run screaming out the door.” She gave a short laugh. “I guess I didn’t consider that you’d have issues with it.”
“But I don’t.”
“Really?” Tasha didn’t look as if she believed him. “Then where’s Noah?”
He didn’t have an answer to that question and the silence stretched between them. His throat was dry and his skin felt clammy.
Tasha shook her head. “It’s harder than you thought. That’s okay, but it doesn’t do any good if we don’t deal with it.” She rubbed her hands over her short skirt. “I know I screwed things up for you and Noah, but I’m willing to stick with it and work it out.” She met his gaze. “Are you?”
Chapter Three
Nothing was resolved that night or the next morning. Ty lived in anxiety, his schedule packed and his ability to break through Noah’s thick walls weakened. It should have been a simple thing. Saying, “I’m sorry” or, “Let’s talk.” Instead they tiptoed around each other, a sort of cold war with no damn end in sight.
When Ty had left for his photo shoot in D.C., he and Noah had warily gone about their business, each stepping carefully around the other. It was painful and intolerable. But as Ty snapped off three pictures of the Bordinaire family, he hadn’t thought of any Earth-shattering ideas to break the silence between himself and Noah.
And the photoshoot made it worse. The Bordinaires were a gay couple, two men deeply in love, who had adopted a fourteen-year-old girl and a small baby. The two children were siblings, slated to be split up until Alan Bordinaire had stepped in and saved them both. Eric, his lover, was ecstatic to include these two precious kids and give them a home.
Their happiness, their joy, was like a damn hot poker in Ty’s heart. Instead of being happy for his two friends, he was jealous, fearful of his own mistake and longing for Noah so much it hurt.
“You’re going to make the baby cry with that look,” Alan said. His brow was creased with concern and Ty realized how poorly he’d been hiding his pain.
“Don’t mind me. I’ve gotten some great stuff.” He clicked through the camera’s memory and nodded at the ones he was sure would do.
“This has been a blast,” said the fourteen-year-old Kayla. “I love the paint balls.”
Ty had planned the shoot weeks earlier, so he was glad the rainbow colors suited the family. Even the baby had giggled and waved his chubby arms on cue when Eric had blown bubbles. It had been the perfect ice-breaker for the rather stuffy Alan Bordinaire, who had offered a rare smile that had been captured for the camera.
A successful shoot. If he could only pull off the same magic in his homelife. But he’d caused Noah pain, then been unwilling to communicate with him. If Noah was still committed to their relationship, Ty had some work to do.
As Ty carefully packed away his cameras, Alan studied him. The man was a shrewd businessman and could read people like a book. “Ty, what’s wrong?”
Ty didn’t want to go into all the details and complications. “Noah and I are…not fighting really, but…” He couldn’t finish and explain. None of it made any sense.
Alan waited for more, and when Ty didn’t continue, he took a deep breath and nodded. “You know that Eric wanted to leave me a couple of years ago?”
That got Ty’s attention. Alan and Eric were a solid couple and always had been. “No, I didn’t.”
“I’m not a warm person,” Alan stated, and stared at Eric, who was cooing over their new baby.
“I got complacent and took Eric for granted. He needs affection, evidence that he matters.”
“Noah doesn’t need that.”
“Everyone needs it,” Alan said firmly. “In a relationship, it’s crucial. If one person feels as if they don’t matter, the relationship can die. I was lucky. Eric told me how he felt and gave me a chance to deal with it.”
“What did you do?”
Alan shrugged. “I made him a priority. And because I did that, I was able to give him a family.”
A family. Ty stared at Alan. The situation was different, yet the same. Noah didn’t feel as if he mattered. It was Ty’s job to let him know that he did.
* * *
She appeared in the hallway and two interns passed her, their perusal making Noah’s eyes narrow. Assholes. If they didn’t stop staring at her ass, Noah was going to make them patients instead of doctors.
He really needed to get a handle on himself. She wasn’t his…yet.
As Natasha got closer, he immediately realized something was wrong. She was always harried at work, but there was a shell-shocked expression in her eyes that he’d never seen before. He rose to his feet and strode toward her. Usually he waited for her and they had lunch in the cafeteria.
Not this time.
He wasn’t sure why, but he immediately took her in his arms and held her close. She held still for a moment, then stepped back. “Can we take a walk?”
“Where’s your coat?”
She blinked at him and he cursed under his breath. “Here. Take this. I’m wearing layers.” He retrieved his long overcoat and put it over her shoulders. He took her arm and led her out the double doors into the cold December weather.
He took her hand, trying to keep some connection with her. She seemed a million miles away, lost, alone. For several minutes, they walked and she remained silent. Finally Noah found a bench and made her sit down. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, her lips tight and her face pinched.
“Don’t lie to me,” Noah said sharply, and Natasha’s head snapped up.
“I just…I don’t really want to talk about it. Talking won’t change anything.” She lowered her chin to her chest and pulled the edges of his coat around her, wearing it like armor against more than the biting wind.
Ninety percent of the time, Noah trusted his instincts. This was one of those ten percent situations in which he didn’t know what to do. He’d grown rusty in managing the fairer sex over the past several years. Even though he and Ty had brought women into their bed on occasion, Noah had carefully avoided any emotional entanglements.
As he studied the pale slope of Natasha’s cheek and the miserable curve of her mouth, he felt his own ropes tightening around his chest. By avoiding feminine vulnerability, he’d rendered himself utterly helpless in the face of it.
But he’d be damned if he was going to run from this. As an expert knot-worker, he knew some problems required gentleness instead of force. He usually went the way of force, but that wasn’t his only weapon.
“Look at me.” He raised his hand and hooked a loose curl behind her ear, then rubbed his knuckles down the side of her neck. She exhaled a ragged breath and closed her eyes, but opened them and met his gaze a moment later. “Thank you. So, talking. I’m not asking you to change anything. I’m asking you to talk to me about why you’re feeling what you’re feeling.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.” But she wiped her dry eyes and scooted closer to him.
After a moment’s hesitation, Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “When do you have to go back inside?”
“I probably shouldn’t have even left the floor in the first place.” She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, and Noah clenched his jaw. Ty didn’t seek Noah’s comfort even when the man probably needed it. Holding Natasha seemed like a Band-aid over an amputation.
“Tell me, Natasha. You need to.” He stroked the nape of her neck, waiting for her to lift her head.
It seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke. “Caiden died.”
Caiden. A preemie that Natasha had helped to bring into the world despite the odds against him. Noah remembered that first day he’d arrived to spend lunch with her, food in hand, glad to listen to her talk. She’d been thrilled, ecstatic with her new job and the rewards of helping people. From the things she’d told him, he knew she was familiar with death and loss, but this seemed to have hit her hard.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said gently. Noah didn’t add that Caiden hadn’t had a chance, that he’d only been a little over a pound, that his little system couldn’t have survived, none of which had a damn thing to do with her ability. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t help.
Instead he stroked her hair and let her cling to him. Her arms wrapped around him and her fingers gripped handfuls of the material of his sweatshirt. She didn’t cry. But Noah could sense the emotion that swamped her like a tsunami. She was drowning, floundering.
He was a Master and knew the way to focus a submissive who had slipped beneath the surface of tough emotions. It wasn’t easy, but he leaned back and tipped her chin to lift her face to his. Without asking, he pressed his lips to hers, threading his hand through her hair to hold her in place. He plundered her mouth, forcing her lips to part, fusing them together.
If they hadn’t been on a public street, he would have stroked her clit until she came and forgot about the pain that was breaking her heart and his.
Instead he broke the kiss and whispered to her. “I can see your thoughts as if you said them out loud. You blame yourself. If we were in private, I’d strap a clit stimulator to your sweet pussy and make you come over and over again until you knew how amazing you truly are.” Her gaze met his and he rubbed his thumb over her moist lips. “I’ve spent lunch with you almost every day for the last two months. I have learned a lot about you. One thing I know for sure—if there had been a way to save that child, you would have found it.”
Her lower lip trembled and she reached up to touch his cheek. “Noah,” she whispered.
He narrowed his eyes. “Say it, Natasha.”
She knew exactly what he meant. They were connected in ways Noah hadn’t expected, and he wanted her to acknowledge it. She swallowed and dropped her gaze to his throat. “Master,” she said in a low voice.
“What does my sub want?” His hand closed over her wrists where they rested on his chest.
“Will you—” She stopped and bit her lip. He waited her out. She inhaled a deep breath. “Will you kiss me again, Sir?”
Carefully, he gathered her closer and brushed his lips over hers. She sighed and strained closer. She tasted like peppermint and tears. The kiss wasn’t uncontrolled passion, but sweet and warm. It was a different sensation for Noah, this strong, steady flow instead of a raging inferno. He thought it must be what Heaven was like—a pool of sunshine in icy weather.
When he pulled away, she smiled at him and his heart tripped. Well, fuck. He grinned back at her as he realized that he’d fallen in love. Hard.
* * *
Ty stopped dead, his gaze on the couple wrapped in each other’s arms on the street. He was too late and his worst fears seemed realized. Noah had replaced him with Tasha and Ty was out in the cold.
Slowly, he walked back to his car. Was he going to give Noah up? Hell, was he going to give Tasha up? Maybe he should just step out of the way and let them be together. He was in the way, extraneous.
When he slipped into the driver’s seat, he banged his head on the steering wheel. It seemed hopeless.
* * *
If it hadn’t been for Noah, Tasha didn’t think she would have been able to make it through the day. There had been a moment, after that wonderful kiss, when he’d seemed a bit…distracted. But he’d seemed to shake it off and made her sit down to eat something. With Noah’s encouragement, she’d found her feet on steadier ground and had been able to walk back into St. Agnes without breaking down and crying.
She sighed happily as she pulled into the driveway of Noah and Ty’s home. No, she didn’t understand what her role in their circle actually was, but she didn’t care at the moment. All she knew was that at the end of the day, she wanted to be with them.
The house was dark as she fumbled with her keys to unlock the front door. Then the door jerked open and Tasha looked up to find Ty there in the dim porch light. “Ty! You’re home!” She reached out to give him a hug.
He was stiff and awkward. What the hell was going on? Tasha needed him. Noah had given her the touch she craved to get through the day, but Ty was her friend and confidant. She leaned back and stared at him, unable to read his expression in the darkened room.
“When did you get home? Why are all the lights off?” She gripped his arms and felt him pull away. Her heart sank as he separated himself from her.
With his back to her, he seemed like a stranger. He was scaring her. “Ty, what is it?”
“Did anything interesting happen today, Tasha?” His tone was mild, almost casual. But Tasha knew him. The stiffness of his back and the way he wouldn’t touch her told her that he was hurting, not angry.
She wrapped her arms around herself, remembering the hollow pain when she’d watched the last beat of Caiden’s heart and heard the humming of the flatline when they couldn’t save him. The bleak feeling of failure washed over her again. He’d been so helpless and so small. He should have had a chance to live.
“Tasha, what is it, baby?” Ty had turned to see her face and Tasha was shocked to realize she had tears on her cheeks.
“Caiden died today,” she said, and her voice broke.
And suddenly Ty was back, his warmth encircling her and his arms wrapped around her cold body. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“I wouldn’t have made it through my shift if Noah hadn’t been there,” she told him.
Ty went still. “You love him.”
Certainty filled her heart. “I think I do.”
Gently, Ty extracted himself from Tasha’s arms. “I understand.”
She blinked. “You understand what?”
In answer, Ty brushed his lips over hers, then bent to pick up his overnight bag. “I’ve got to go.”