Filthy Rich Santas

5. Beckett

5

BECKETT

I pull into the first gas station I see off the highway, and I have the door open and one foot on the asphalt before the engine stops ticking.

I surreptitiously adjust myself in my jeans, biting back a groan. Fucking hell. Listening to Lana make those noises about a damn casserole was driving me crazy.

“You actually gonna fill the tank up?” Tristan asks, smirking at me over the hood of my SUV. “The whole, what, half gallon of gas we burned?”

I flip him off, and he laughs, then pats the hood and turns to head into the convenience store attached to the gas station.

“I’ll grab some beef jerky,” he calls over his shoulder.

Tristan’s not wrong that we don’t really need gas, but I stick the nozzle into the SUV anyway, gritting my teeth as I try to get my cock to go back down.

Ever since the night she came to the club, I’ve been having a hard time getting thoughts of Lana out of my head, and it’s starting to become a problem. The kind of problem that’s making it difficult to remember she’s Caleb’s little sister.

“Do you want any snacks, Beckett?” she calls out from the other side of SUV, walking backward toward the convenience store with a wide smile on her face that brings out the tiny dimple in her left cheek.

I shake my head, waving her off, and next to her, Ryder laughs.

“He’s lying,” I hear him tell Lana as she turns back around and follows him into the store. “He’ll be jonesing for some beef jerky in ten miles.”

I grunt. He’s got me there, but beef jerky isn’t the problem when it comes to jonesing for things.

Lana was just so fucking sexy the night she came into Radiance, all wide-eyed and breathless. It caught me off guard, and I fucking hate being caught off guard.

But not as much as I hated seeing that man put his hands on her.

That shit sent the kind of fury racing through me that I haven’t felt since my teens. And when I had her boxed in against the wall, trying to get her to leave, it took all of my self-control not to do something very, very stupid. She was gazing up at me through her lashes, and the look on her face… fuck .

It was far too easy to picture that same look, but with her on her knees for me.

The gas pump clicks, my tank full, and I shake off the image in my head. She’d be fucking gorgeous like that, but it doesn’t matter. She’s still as off limits as she’s always been.

I head into the store for a quick restroom pitstop, passing my friends as they head back out with enough road trip snacks for the next five hundred miles. I snort, shaking my head as I try to ignore the sound of Lana’s laugh. Ryder, naturally, is still teasing her while Tristan watches with a small smile on his face.

The three of us have always been united in our desire to look out for her. I don’t even want to think about what my friends would have to say if they knew how fucking attracted I am to her, not to mention the fact that Caleb would kill me.

I’ve done my best to shove it aside for years, but it’s never gone away.

And it should.

It needs to.

There’s no fucking way I can have her. And even if I could, I shouldn’t. Wouldn’t . I don’t do attachments, and I have no interest in all the things a woman like Lana wants and deserves.

Like a family.

“Jesus,” I mutter, staring at myself in the mirror after doing my business. “Get a fucking grip.”

I shake my head and brush those thoughts away, washing my hands and heading back out to the SUV.

Tristan’s already behind the wheel with Ryder next to him, leaving me no choice but to get in the back with Lana.

“Got enough room?” she asks me with a smile, resting her hand on my leg for a second.

“It’s fine,” I say curtly, the soft weight of her touch almost undoing all my earlier efforts to get my cock under control.

I move her hand back to her own lap, annoyed with myself. I usually have impeccable control.

Ryder turns around to face Lana from the front seat, sending a brief pulse of gratitude through me for keeping her attention diverted. I stare out the front windshield, ignoring her soft laughter as he teases her.

At least, until he brings up her visit to the goddamn sex club.

“Was Radiance your first choice, or have you been doing some comparison shopping with the other clubs around town?” he asks.

“Oh my god,” she groans, covering her face as her skin flushes pink. “Can we please just all forget that happened?”

I’m pretty sure that’s impossible. I sure as shit haven’t been able to.

“What?” Ryder raises his brows. “Are you saying we’ve got competition?”

“No, no, of course Radiance was my first choice,” Lana says, laughing despite her obvious embarrassment.

She’s so fucking sweet. Always has been.

“Why, um, why did the three of you decide to open it?” she asks. “I’ve always kind of wondered that.”

I’m pretty sure she means she wants to get the conversation off of her recent visit.

“It was Tristan’s idea,” I say, happy to go along with avoiding that topic and more than happy to throw my friend under the bus to make that happen.

Tristan meets her eyes in the rearview mirror with an easy smile. “That’s right. I mean, I knew we all had an interest in kink?—”

“Sure, you knew eventually ,” Ryder cuts in with a laugh before turning back to Lana. “We each fell into kink separately, and it wasn’t until a certain night that included far too many shots of Patron that we all realized we had that in common.”

“So the three of you, um, all have the same kinks?” Lana asks hesitantly.

“No,” Tristan says without elaborating, “but it’s a big enough part of each of our lives that it made sense to open a place like Radiance.”

Lana smiles. “I have to admit, it’s not what I would have guessed you’d do. I always thought… well, I guess I just never imagined a sex club.”

“You thought I’d aim for a professional hockey career, like Caleb?” Tristan asks, a hint of strain in his voice that I only recognize because of how well I know him.

Empathy flashes over Lana’s face. “You seemed to really love it,” she says softly.

“I did,” he says, his smile turning a little easier. “And you’re right, I definitely had NHL aspirations back when Caleb and I used to play together. There was just no way after the accident, though.” He grimaces, reflexively rubbing at some of his scars. “I could still play, and I do still like to get out on the ice sometimes, but the rods in my leg are never going to be as stable as they’d need to be for me to go pro.”

He hardly ever talks about the car accident that took his mother’s life and left him to be raised by his Grandma Meg. I know he worked his fucking ass off in rehab to regain mobility, and I respect the hell out of him for making that happen. And Lana probably doesn’t realize it, but it says a lot that he’s opening up to her even this much.

“Anyway, after I made peace with giving up hockey, I needed something else to focus on.”

“And you chose a business degree,” Ryder cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Fucking boring.”

Lana laughs. “Well, I’m sure it serves you well as a business owner, right?”

“Right,” Tristan says, grinning at her in the rearview mirror. “I wasn’t actually sure what I was going to do with it at first, but?—”

“But then after trying to demonstrate some knots for us after half a dozen shots of Tequila…” Ryder waggles his eyebrows.

“Knots?” Lana asks.

“Shibari.” Tristan brakes a little when a Prius changes lanes in front of us with no blinker. “Asshole,” he mutters before glancing back at Lana in the rearview mirror again. “It’s Japanese rope bondage.”

“I know.” Lana’s cheeks go pink again. “I mean, I’ve… I’ve seen some videos. It looks, um, interesting?”

She bites her lip, that pink flush spreading down her neck, and fucking hell. Bondage isn’t really my kink, but I’d suddenly give anything to see her lush body wrapped in Tristan’s silky ropes.

I subtly adjust my cock again, glad her attention is so fully taken by Tristan at the moment.

“So the three of us basically came up with a business plan?—”

“The night you were drinking Tequila?” she asks with a cheeky grin.

Ryder laughs. “You know it. We’ve still got the napkins these two sketched out the initial ideas on.”

He jerks a thumb in my direction, and Lana looks over at me. “So you jumped right in?”

I clear my throat. “Tristan asked for my opinion about opening a club. I heard him out, and just pointed out that the three of us don’t just have different kinks, we also have different strengths that could all benefit the venture if it was something we wanted to get into together.”

“Which of course we did,” Tristan says, glancing over his shoulder at me for a second to shoot me a smile.

Ryder laughs. “Pointed out? Quit underplaying it, Beckett. Those napkins are basically a full-blown business plan. Tristan knew what he was doing when he brought the idea up to you. Business is in your blood.”

That’s true, and of course I’m glad my background has helped make Radiance successful for the three of us. I still scowl at him though, because I have no interest in being associated with my father’s business empire and could do without the reminder of how I earned my business education.

Not the degree I eventually got, but the real education.

Not that I can ever forget the weight of expectation I grew up with. It was always understood that I’d carry on the family business. I was groomed for it from birth, and it really is in my blood. But no matter how much I excelled, there was never any pleasing the asshole whose name I carry.

My father’s relentless criticism and general toxicity were a dark weight I shrugged off as soon as I was old enough to make my way in the world, and cutting ties with him and everything he represents is the best thing I’ve ever done.

“Well, that’s probably useful,” Lana says gently, resting a soft hand on my arm for a second.

The touch zings right to my dick, and I grunt, subtly moving away from her. “Sure. I needed something to build toward and work on,” I say with a shrug that completely downplays how fucking important the club has been in my life. “I was kind of aimless after turning down a position with my father’s company.”

It’s a pretty tame way of describing the brutal argument between us that finally led to me walking out and never looking back, but Lana doesn’t need to hear all that. Hell, the gory details aren’t something I’ve dumped on Tristan, Ryder, or Caleb, either.

In my experience, some things are best dealt with by shoving them out of sight and keeping them permanently out of mind.

The look Lana gives me almost makes me think she sees some of that anyway, and for a second, I have the strangest feeling that she’s using her artist’s eye to see right into my fucking soul.

Then she smiles at me and the tension breaks.

“What about you, Ryder?” she asks, leaning forward just enough that the soft weight of her thigh presses against mine, activating my cock again.

He grins. “You don’t think I could let these two start something up without me, do you? Can you imagine? They both take life too damn seriously. It would have been no fun at all if I hadn’t thrown in with them to get the club off the ground.”

My lips tilt up a little without my permission. Ryder isn’t exactly wrong.

“It definitely wouldn’t be the same without you,” Tristan says to him, chuckling. “Best choice I ever made, going into business with you two.”

“Aw, you lurve us,” Ryder jokes, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated way that makes Lana laugh.

Even though he’s joking, he’s right. These two are closer to me than brothers, and we’ve seen each other through a lot over the years.

We’ve had each other’s backs through all of it, so starting a business together was easy, despite our differences. Actually, maybe because of them. We all bring something different to the table, balancing each other out in ways that only strengthen what we’ve built together.

And it certainly helps that kink is a shared interest we all have. Radiance is more than a business venture; it’s something each of us is passionate about. It gives us all purpose. And I’d like to think that creating a safe space for the lifestyle makes a difference in the lives of our members too.

“So, um, if you don’t all have the same kinks…” Lana starts to ask, her face flushed.

Ryder smirks. “Are you asking us what we’re into?”

“That’s probably pretty personal,” she says, fooling no one. “I just wondered, um, how you decided what to have at the club.”

“Radiance caters to all kinds of clientele,” Tristan tells her before Ryder can jump in to tease her over her interest again. “And you’re right. It is really personal. What gets you off is unique to you, but as long as it’s safe, sane, and consensual, we try to provide an environment where our members can explore it.”

She bites her lip, her face still a beautiful shade of pink, and nods rapidly. “Oh, that makes sense, and I’ve only heard good things.”

“Only heard them?” Ryder quips, still half-turned in his seat so he can face her. “You mean to say that Beckett found you the other night before you got to do any exploring of your own?”

“Ryder,” I growl, this entire conversation testing my control. The last thing I need to do is have Lana tell us in detail what it was she was hoping to find at our club. My mind is far too eager to supply images of what could have been, all on its own.

Ryder just laughs, of course, but thankfully, he also turns the conversation in a different direction. Toward me.

“Take Beckett here,” he tells Lana. “I’m sure it won’t surprise you to hear that he’s a Dom.”

I glare at him, silently daring him to out my kinks to her and see what happens.

Lana’s tinkling laugh derails my anger, though. It’s a beautiful sound, and it’s the first time I’ve heard her sound truly carefree in quite a while.

“Yeah, no, that’s no surprise,” she agrees, grinning at Ryder. Then she rests her hand on my arm for a moment, sending me a warm look that I’m not sure what to do with. “But I’m sure if he wanted me to know his kinks, he’d be the one to tell me,” she says softly, speaking to Ryder but still looking at me.

I grunt an affirmative, and she gives me a small smile that brings out her dimple.

“I enjoy Shibari,” Tristan says. “Among other things.”

“It’s always the quietest ones who are the most kinky,” Ryder says, nudging him.

The two banter for a minute, Ryder teasing Tristan about what an ideal playground the club is for his voyeuristic tendencies, but I can’t take my eyes off Lana. She’s listening avidly, her breathing quick and shallow. The color on her creamy skin is pure temptation, and I discipline myself hard to shut down thoughts of touching it. Licking it. Tasting the heat that I can feel radiating off her curvy body as she unconsciously sways closer to hear more.

“What did you think of the club when you stopped in?” Tristan asks her, looking back at her again in the mirror.

“I… didn’t see much,” she admits, “but it looked really nice. Very upscale but welcoming. I thought it might be more intimidating, but I, um, I could see myself spending time there.”

She shoots him a look that makes me grit my teeth and force my gaze away. “No,” I snap.

“What Beckett means to say,” Ryder inserts with a grin, “is thank you. We’ve all worked our asses off to make it into what it is, and it’s great to hear that you felt comfortable there.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as to say comfortable ,” she says quickly, laughing softly. “But that’s on me, not the club. It really is nice, though.”

“Beckett gets a lot of the credit for that,” Ryder says. “We all play our part, but he’s really made it his baby.”

I shrug. “It’s easier to take care of than a real baby. Not that I plan on having any.”

Lana glances over at me, her eyebrows shooting up as a look I can’t interpret crosses her face. “You don’t want to have kids?”

“No.” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “Do you?”

She beams, her expression brightening. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve always thought it would be amazing to be a mom.”

I nod, not surprised in the least. It’s just one more reason to kill off, or at least quarantine, the interest I’ve got in her. Lana is one of the best people I know, and unlike my own piece of shit father, she’d be a fantastic parent.

I spent plenty of time at her house when I was younger, hanging out with Caleb, and from what I saw of their parents, most of Lana’s sweetness is all her, not something she inherited from her folks.

That’s not always the case, though. Most of the time, the apple doesn’t seem to fall far from the tree, and there’s no way I’d ever put a child at risk of having me for a father. Not when I have no way of knowing if I’d be any better at it than my old man.

Thankfully, before the conversation can go any further down the current path, Lana’s phone rings. I relax a little, thankful for a break from talking about things that I’d rather not think about, but then tense up again when she pulls it out and frowns at the screen.

“Problem?” I ask, my protective instincts roaring to life.

She looks up at me with a quick smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, no. It’s nothing. I mean, it’s my mom. It’s fine.”

That sounds an awful lot like protesting too much, but she answers the call before I can decide what to do about it.

“Hi, Mom… no, I’m on the road already… yes, I remembered… I packed it… uh huh… yeah… yes, I already… okay.”

I can’t hear what Mrs. Reeves is saying, but from Lana’s side of the conversation, it sounds like the woman isn’t letting her get a word in edgewise. And from the look on Lana’s face, I’d guess that she’s either berating her or rattling off a list of demands and reminders that Lana neither wants nor needs.

Another pattern I remember well from when we were all younger.

Lana shrinks in on herself as the conversation drags on, her side of it devolving mostly into versions of “yes” and quiet sighs.

She picks at a napkin from the gas station we stopped at as the miles pass, and I nudge her hand, then pass her a ballpoint pen I keep on me for business.

She flashes me a quick smile that brings back a hint of her usual exuberance, and just like I suspected, immediately starts doodling as her mother drones on in her ear. It’s something I remember her doing a lot when she was younger, and it soothes some of my protectiveness to at least be able to provide her that small outlet.

When the conversation finally ends, she hangs up and tosses her phone onto the seat next to her and blows out a breath. “Sorry, guys.”

Tristan looks back at her. “For what?”

She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “Um, the four of us were talking, and…”

“Mothers,” Ryder finishes for her when she trails off, loading the word enough that she finally laughs.

“I know, right?” She shakes her head as she wads up the napkin and tosses it on top of her phone.

I pick it up as the two of them banter a little, flattening it out and smoothing it over my knee.

Lana has always been artistic, but damn. The call couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but the sketch she whipped out is beautifully done. Obviously fast and with a distinct style that I’ve got no name for—but whatever it is, it makes the image feel vibrant and alive. With just a few lines, she brought to life the moment we all stopped at the gas station.

It’s like a snapshot, but better.

More personal.

“You gonna keep this?” I ask, running one of my fingers over the image.

She glances down at it, surprise on her face. “That?” She laughs, waving a hand at it. “Definitely not. It’s nothing. Just put it with the trash from our snack wrappers. Oh! But here’s your pen back.”

I take it from her, but when she looks away, I slip the napkin into my pocket along with the pen.

It’s not nothing. I’m not sure what it is , but “nothing” is definitely a word that doesn’t apply. Not when it comes to Lana Reeves.