Filthy Rich Santas

11. Beckett

11

BECKETT

My grip is so tight on the steering wheel by the time Lana finishes talking that I’m a little shocked it hasn’t cracked in two. But if it does? That shit will one hundred percent be Ryder’s fault.

I send him a quick glare through the rearview mirror, but of course he doesn’t see it. His gaze is still locked on Lana like she’s the second coming of his dick’s messiah, too enthralled by her recap of what went down between her and Tristan earlier to notice the silent message I’m currently sending him.

I jerk my eyes back to the road as he prods her for more details. That fucker just can’t let things alone, always jumping in to talk about shit that anyone rational would ignore or shove under the rug like a normal person.

We both saw Lana come out of Tristan’s room this morning.

We both saw how well-fucked and gorgeous she looked.

Was goading her into spelling it out for us like this is really necessary, or does the man just have a death wish? Because hearing the details in that breathy voice of hers is seriously fucking with my ability to focus. So if I wrap the four of us around a tree while she goes on and on about how hot Tristan made her this morning—once again, it will be Ryder’s fault.

“What kind of piercing?” he asks her, the question breaking through my ability to block the conversation out for my own sanity.

Tristan groans so softly I would have missed it if he wasn’t right next to me.

“It’s a hood piercing,” Lana answers in the backseat, a gorgeous pink flush on her cheeks when I dart a glance back there via the mirror.

“Sounds fucking hot,” Ryder tells her with a grin, making her bite her lip like she’s trying to hold in a smile.

“It’s new, but so far, I really like it,” she says, making me picture something I really fucking shouldn’t.

I’ve got no doubt at all that her pussy is the exact same lickable color as her lips, and thinking of it wet and swollen from attention with a sexy-as-fuck little… barbell? Ring? Horseshoe? Fuck, imagining any kind of metal there at all is something my mind is having a much easier time visualizing than it should.

I reach down and subtly adjust my cock. The sexual tension in the car is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“How about you, Tristan?” Ryder says from the back. “Did you like Lana’s new piercing too?”

“What do you think?” Tristan replies, his jaw tight.

Lana huffs out a breath. “Well, since you said it was a mistake that shouldn’t happen again, I think you must not have been as much of a fan as I thought.”

The tension surrounding all of us shifts into something a little less playful for a moment, but then Ryder cracks a joke that has Lana’s pretty skin flushing pink again, and Tristan rolls his eyes, and the conversation thankfully moves the fuck on.

For them.

I don’t have much to say as Lana whips out her phone a while later and starts going on about other roadside attractions along our route, because I still can’t stop picturing the blow-by-blow recap she gave us, and it’s driving me crazy.

“The world’s largest ball of twine is in Kansas,” Lana says. “Are we driving through Kansas?”

“What even is twine?” Ryder asks. “Rope? String? Cording?”

“Cording isn’t actually a word.”

“The fuck it isn’t.” He laughs as I tune out their banter, rubbing the center of my chest, where a shit-ton of feelings are churning, and then dropping my hand the minute I realize what I’m doing.

I scowl at the highway ahead of us, trying to make sense of what it is that’s got me worked up. Besides the obvious, of course. Because despite the half hard-on I’m still sporting, there’s definitely something more happening inside me, and when I cut my eyes over to Tristan—who’s engrossed in his phone in the seat next to me—those feelings take a turn I’m not sure I like.

It was hot as fuck to hear about what he did with Lana, and normally the only thing a story like that would have me feeling about him was happy to hear he got some. I’m not sure if it’s being part of the kink community or just the bond I’ve got with my closest friends, but no matter who any of us has hooked up with in the past or what kind of kink any of them have shown an interest in, I’ve been supportive no matter what.

And no matter who they’ve hooked up with, I’ve sure as hell never been jealous .

But goddammit, I’m rubbing at my chest again before I realize it, unable to deny that that’s exactly what this shit-storm inside me feels like right now.

“Okay, B?” Tristan asks, glancing up from his phone to send me a concerned frown.

“Heartburn,” I mutter, grabbing the wheel at ten-and-two to keep my hands occupied the way they should be right now.

Without a word, Tristan rustles around in the center console and passes over two Rolaids, and I grunt my thanks as I pop them into my mouth. I chew the chalky things as my penance for lying, wishing they’d work for whatever the fuck it is that I’m actually feeling.

I refuse to let it be jealousy, because that’s bullshit, especially between us.

And Tristan shut things down between them anyway.

I don’t love how unhappy Lana sounded about that, but it’s still for the best. I’m not shocked that he went there, because I’m pretty sure any of the three of us would if circumstances were different, since Lana is pure, dimpled temptation. But they’re not, and it would get too fucking messy given our relationship with Caleb and how understandably protective he is of her.

A soft hand touches my shoulder, claiming my attention, and my eyes snap up to meet Lana’s in the mirror. She smiles, and a whole fucking cascade of filthy images flicker through my mind, the kind of shit that I’ve kept under lock and key around her up until now.

Exactly the reason it would be best to just slam the lid shut on that particular Pandora’s box before it even opens.

“Hungry?” Lana asks, the tone of her voice clueing me in that maybe it’s not the first time she’s tried to get my attention. “We were thinking it’s about time to stop for lunch.”

“Sure,” I say, forcing my eyes back to the road.

“There should be an exit in two miles with some options,” Tristan says from next to me.

I take it when it appears, barely paying attention as they direct me toward the diner they’ve picked out. Then I follow the three of them inside, still feeling tense as all fuck.

Lana ends up sitting next to me in the booth, with Ryder and Tristan across from us.

It’s fucking torture.

“Good burger?” she asks me at one point, her soft thigh pressed against mine and the honey-sweet scent of her body products more mouthwatering than the fried food we’re all devouring.

“It’s fine.”

I take another bite, keeping all my attention focused on it, and after a moment, she gets caught up in conversation with Ryder again. It’s not until Tristan gets up to pay for our meal that I realize I’ve got no fucking clue what they’ve been talking about, lost in my thoughts this whole time.

As Tristan is paying, Ryder makes a comment about needing a pit stop before we get back on the road and heads toward the sign for the restrooms in the back of the diner. When we’re alone at the table, Lana puts her soft hand on my arm again.

“Are you…”

She bites her lip a little shyly, and I tense up, hoping I haven’t somehow given away the kind of shit I’ve been thinking about her.

“What?” I ask when she just leaves the words hanging.

“I was just wondering if you’re upset.”

“No,” I say, more curtly than I mean to.

Lana gives my arm a little squeeze. “Are you sure? Something has seemed weird with you all morning.”

“Everything’s fine.”

She nods, looking at me like she’s not quite convinced, then sighs and removes her hand, giving me a tiny smile. “Okay. I just don’t want things to be awkward on this trip.”

“Nothing is awkward.”

I hold her gaze, hoping she’ll believe it, since it’s true. I may not be able to name the riot of emotion still broiling in my chest, but awkward isn’t a part of it.

This time, the smile she gives me is a little more real, one that draws my eyes to the dimple near her mouth. “Good. It’s really freeing to be able to be myself around you three. Wade was just so vanilla, you know?”

I give her a non-committal grunt. I don’t fucking know, nor do I want to know anything about her piece of shit ex.

“He always made me feel weird if I ever wanted to try new things in bed,” she goes on, wreaking havoc on the tight control I’m using to keep myself from picturing what she told us in the car. “It didn’t take me long to realize I shouldn’t even bring certain things up.”

I want to know what kind of things. I want to hear every fucking one. I want to dominate her, insist she tell me in vivid detail, then show her what true pleasure can be.

Instead, I double down on my control and keep my response to the basics.

“He’s a motherfucking prick. He didn’t deserve you.”

She laughs softly.

“It took me a while to see that, but you’re right. I think that’s why I wanted to reinvent myself after he broke up with me. I never wanted to be the person he would have been happy with, and with him out of the picture—well, that’s part of the reason I got my piercing. It’s something just for me. And it feels like the real me, if that makes sense.”

I force out another grunt to let her know I’m listening, but fuck, she’s seriously trying to kill me with all the shit she’s saying.

Her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink with this latest confession, but the way she keeps her shoulders back and her head high anyway, refusing to be ashamed of her sexuality, is so fucking attractive that it sends all my blood south.

She starts nibbling her lip again, a hint of uncertainty passing across her face when I don’t say anything. “ Does it make sense?”

I nod at her, not trusting myself to open my mouth right now. But it must be enough, because she gives me another of those devastating smiles in return.

Thankfully, Ryder and Tristan both rejoin us a minute later.

“Want me to take a turn at the wheel?” Tristan asks, holding his hands out for the keys.

I shake my head. I could use something to focus on besides my chaotic thoughts, so I tell him, “Nah. I can do another shift.”

He raises his eyebrows, giving me a curious look. “Got something on your mind?”

“I’m good.”

He snorts but doesn’t push it, leaving me to my thoughts as we all pile into the car and get back on the road. I grip the wheel tightly, doing my best to ignore the temptation in the back seat and keep my mind from obsessing over things it shouldn’t.

There isn’t anything to question here. I know that when it comes to crossing lines with Lana, there’s no way in hell I can ever let myself go there.

Not with her.

We’d never work.

Outside of kink, she wants things I just don’t.

Kids. Family. The kind of relationship I’m just not fucking built for.

And none of this is news to me. The raw truth is that her hot-as-fuck story this morning didn’t spark something new for me, it just unlocked the door to the craving I’ve already got for her, and it’s taking all I have to slam that fucking door shut again.

But I have to.

I can’t touch her. Can’t ever let myself have her, even if I find myself in Tristan’s shoes one day.

Because if I do?

I know myself too damn well, and one taste would never be enough with Lana. If I ever did cross that line, I’d never be able to get on the right side of it again.

And if I ever completely fucked up and actually fell for her, even knowing all the reasons it’s a bad idea, there’s no fucking way I’d ever be able to let her go.