Filthy Rich Santas

22. Lana

22

LANA

I’m still sandwiched between Ryder and Tristan when the morning sun filters in through the blinds, waking me up. Both men are still asleep, and I sigh happily, stretching between them, and just take a moment to appreciate the glow I feel.

Of course, stretching brings out a few intimate areas that are sore this morning, but that just makes me smile. A few aches and some tiredness after a night of incredible sex are completely worth it.

Although it isn’t just the sex that has me grinning right now. Even without that part, yesterday was one of the best days of my life.

“Looks like the snow has stopped.”

Ryder’s voice is rough with sleep.

“You’re awake,” I whisper, keeping my voice down so I don’t disturb Tristan. Then I realize what he just said and sigh, looking out the window to confirm. “I suppose it was too much to hope for another snow day.”

He chuckles, the arm he has around me tightening as he nuzzles my temple. “I’m sure there’s still plenty of snow. It’s just not falling anymore.”

“You know what I mean.”

His smile softens in a way I’m not used to seeing from him. “I do, love.”

Tristan starts to stir behind me, and that’s when I realize that sometime during the night, Beckett joined us in bed too. Just to sleep.

Well, it makes sense. He could have slept on the couch, but he’s a big man and while the couch is comfortable, it’s not that big. But I’d still like to think it’s more than that.

I prop myself up on one elbow. “Good morning,” I whisper to him.

He frowns. “We need to get moving and get on the road.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”

He grunts, then rolls off the bed, grabs his phone, and pads toward the bathroom, giving me a view I thoroughly enjoy, since his ass is a work of art and it seems he slept in just his boxers.

He pauses in the bathroom door, looking up from his phone. “It says the roads have been cleared, and there’s no more snow forecast for the next several days. We should be able to make good time.”

“We should also be able to have a good time, don’t you think?” I tease him. “While you’re checking the route, be sure to drop a pin in on any good attractions.”

He sighs, but I think I see his lips twitch before he turns away to go into the bathroom.

“He’s not a morning person, is he?” I ask.

“He just needs to get laid,” Ryder says with a smirk.

I laugh, and he cups my cheek and swoops in for a kiss.

I shove his chest, laughing harder as I dodge it, and accidentally wake up Tristan.

“No kissing until I brush my teeth. Morning breath!”

“I don’t think he cares,” Tristan rumbles, tipping my face around and giving me a sleepy smile. “I know I don’t.”

“But—” I start.

He doesn’t give me a chance to finish before he’s kissing me, and I guess I don’t actually care all that much, either.

“Good morning, freckles,” he murmurs once he lets me go. Then he gives me a little push back in Ryder’s direction. “Now why don’t you make it a good one for Ryder too.”

I give in, and Ryder smiles against my lips as he gives me a sweet kiss, then a dirtier one. They pass me back and forth for a few moments while the sound of the shower turns on, but as soon as Beckett finishes, I sit up.

“Dibs!”

“Were we not holding your attention?” Ryder asks, chuckling at my enthusiasm.

“Hey, I grew up with siblings! I learned a few things about sharing a bathroom.”

Tristan grabs my wrist as I try to scramble out of bed, tugging me back for a moment.

“Do me a favor?” He runs his finger over the bridge of my nose. “These are gorgeous. Don’t hide them with makeup today.”

My freckles?

My heart skips a beat. I’ve been covering them up with foundation for most of my life, and I can still remember the way my mother would grab my chin and inspect my face every time I came inside from an outdoor activity, tutting under her breath about how I was ruining my skin by gaining new “blotches.”

But the memory of her constant criticism and the disappointment on her face is wiped away by the expression on Tristan’s.

“Okay,” I whisper, surprising myself.

He grins, then twists around to grab his glasses from the nightstand, slips them on, and pulls me in for a last kiss.

“Gorgeous,” he repeats. He pats my butt when I get out of bed before calling after me, “But save some hot water for us!”

I’m tempted to just invite him into the shower with me, but Beckett is probably right. We should really get on the road.

I get in the shower, tipping my face up and letting the warm water wash away a little of my disappointment. Part of me would have been happy to stay here the entire time. To skip out on Christmas with my family, and just spend the entire winter holiday exploring more kink with these three men.

“A girl can dream,” I murmur to myself, sighing softly. Then my practical side kicks in, and I finish up quickly, applying light makeup before I get dressed, but leaving off the foundation like Tristan requested.

When I finish in the bathroom, the guys’ personal belongings are already gone from the suite’s bedroom, so I reluctantly organize my own things, repacking my suitcase. Even if the storm was still raging or the roads were completely blocked, stealing a few more days in this fantasy world with the three of them wouldn’t actually satisfy the longing they’ve awakened in me.

But anything else isn’t really feasible.

I’ve gotten to know each of them even better since leaving L.A., and while it might have made me start falling for them a little harder than I should, it’s also confirmed what I’ve always known. I just can’t really see how anything like what we’re doing together on this trip could ever last beyond it, when we’re all back in our normal lives.

“But I can quit pining for what isn’t possible, and enjoy it as much as I can while it lasts,” I remind myself softly, carefully folding the last item I have to add to my suitcase.

I run my fingers over the silky camisole as I place it in its spot, the glow I felt upon waking dimming a little as another wave of tiredness hits me.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “See? If this were a long-term thing, that kind of sex would obviously wear me out too much,” I murmur to myself under my breath, determined to see the glass as half full and not waste any of this magical time by being disappointed just because it won’t last.

Tristan pops his head through the bedroom door. “What was that?”

I grin at him. “Nothing. Just talking to myself. It’s a bad habit.”

He saunters over, then takes the suitcase from my hands and kisses the tip of my nose. “Good.”

I laugh. “Good?”

“If you were too perfect, I’d be in big trouble.”

He keeps flirting with me as we check out and load up the SUV, and even though I do feel a bit worn out, the glow is back. Even Beckett’s grouchiness feels endearing.

He huffs out a breath when I claim the back seat with him, his body stiffening up. If he wanted space, though, he could take it. When he doesn’t, I lean against him to rest my head on his shoulder and I find myself smiling with a deep contentment I rarely feel.

Ryder gets behind the wheel, and as he and Tristan talk about the route ahead and pull away from the hotel, I look outside at the wintery landscape, trying to soak it all in. The sexual adventures I’ve already had with these three have been amazing, but the quiet comfort in moments like this is something I’ll miss too.

I nod off for a bit, lulled by the gentle hum of the engine and Beckett’s warmth beside me. When I come to, Ryder and Tristan are deep in conversation about some band they both like.

“…and that’s why their second album was clearly superior,” Tristan is saying, gesturing emphatically.

Ryder scoffs. “You’re out of your mind. The first album had way more raw energy.”

I stretch, careful not to elbow Beckett. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing important,” Beckett grunts, his eyes still fixed on the snowy landscape rushing past us.

It’s got nothing on the cold waves coming off him, though. He may have allowed me to sleep against his body, but it feels like his emotions are locked away behind a wall of pure ice.

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the fond smile that tugs at my lips. Grumpy Beckett is kind of adorable, not that I’d ever tell him that. Still, it gives me a slight pang in my chest since we have so little time left before we go our separate ways again.

Not that an agreement to explore kinks gives me the right to more of him, but it already feels like I’ve been getting closer to him—to all three of them—than I have to anyone in a long time. Maybe ever.

Greedily, I want more of that.

I just wish he wanted it too.

“How you feeling, love?” Ryder asks, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “You conked out pretty hard there.”

I wave off his concern, even as I notice the lingering heaviness in my limbs. “I’m fine. Just catching up on beauty sleep.”

Tristan turns in his seat, giving me a once-over that makes my cheeks heat. “Trust me, you don’t need it.”

Before I can respond, Ryder lets out a bark of laughter. “Oh man, remember that time we took the train to New York to try and sneak into that concert, but you passed out just as hard on the ride down?”

Tristan groans. “Don’t remind me. We were so close to getting in…”

“Until genius over here,” Ryder jerks his thumb at Beckett, “decided to pick a fight with the bouncer.”

I turn to Beckett, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t.”

He shrugs, face and body language still completely closed off, and for a moment, I think that’s all I’m going to get.

“Oh, trust me, he very, very much did,” Ryder responds, laughing.

Beckett grunts. Then, the barest hint of a smirk playing at his lips, he mutters, “The guy was being an asshole.”

“Yeah, and your dad was even more of an asshole when he had to come bail us out,” Tristan scoffs, his tone light but his eyes watchful.

The shift in Beckett’s demeanor is immediate. His jaw clenches, his entire body going completely rigid beside me.

“Shit, sorry, man,” Ryder says quickly. “We shouldn’t have brought that up. Your old man is dead to all of us.”

I look between them, sensing the tension. “What happened?”

There’s a moment of silence before Beckett speaks, his voice low and controlled. “My father didn’t approve of… well, anything I did. Not unless it was exactly what he told me to do.”

“Maybe because he’s a judgmental asshole,” Tristan mutters, pushing his glasses back into place and getting another low grunt from Beckett.

“But sneaking down to NYC to see a concert? You must have just been kids, right?”

In fact, I think Caleb might have been with them. This sounds vaguely familiar.

Beckett’s jaw ticks for a moment, then he gives a short, sharp nod. “Yeah. That night was just one of many disappointments I handed him before it all started to chafe too damn much. It’s why I cut him out of my life.”

The bitterness in his tone makes my heart ache. I rest my hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “That really sucks. I’m sorry he was so hard on you.”

Beckett pulls away slightly, his walls slamming back up. “You don’t have to pretend to understand,” he mutters, looking back out the window.

Looking away from me .

Something inside me snaps. Maybe it’s the lingering fatigue I’m still feeling, or the rollercoaster of emotions from the past few days, but suddenly I’m done tiptoeing around his prickliness.

Grumpily endearing or not, I don’t deserve his coldness, and while I’m not sure if it will last or where it’s coming from, I’m suddenly fed up with putting up with things I don’t deserve.

“Okay, you know what? You’re being a dick.” I turn to face him fully. “Maybe I don’t know exactly what you went through, but don’t act like I can’t possibly understand what it’s like to feel like you’re never good enough for your parents. I’ve spent my entire life feeling like mine are never going to be satisfied with anything I do, that there’s no chance I’ll ever meet the golden standards set by my brother and sister. You’re not alone, Beckett, so quit trying to hog the mantle of suffering under shitty parents all to yourself.”

He turns to stare at me as the words tumble out of me, admitting things out loud that I usually shy away from stating quite so baldly. But his face? It’s still completely blank, the stubborn, infuriating man choosing to remain closed off instead of admitting that we just might actually understand each other in a way not everyone can.

It sends my frustration skyrocketing.

“You think you’re the only one who’s felt worn down by impossible standards? Who’s felt like the odd one out in their own family? News flash, Beckett—you’re not.”

The car goes silent other than my heaving breath. I can feel Ryder and Tristan exchanging glances in the front seat, but I keep my eyes locked on Beckett’s. His expression is still unreadable, but there’s finally a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe even a grudging respect.

It’s not enough to cool me down, but I’m surprisingly not embarrassed by my outburst. It feels good to say what I actually think, and—much like the sex we’ve been having—it also feels freeing.

Ryder clears his throat. “So, uh, there’s a rest stop coming up. Anyone need a break?”

“Yes,” I say, suddenly desperate for some air. “Please.”

I fan myself with my hand. I may not feel embarrassed emotionally, but apparently my body didn’t get the memo. I feel like I’m burning up.

As we pull into the parking lot, I unbuckle my seat belt, ready to bolt as soon as we stop. But Beckett’s hand on my arm stops me.

“Lana,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “Look, I didn’t mean to?—”

I shake my head, cutting him off. I appreciate it, I do, but I need to get out of the SUV and get some fresh air. “It’s fine. I just… I need a minute, okay?”

He nods, releasing me. As I climb out of the SUV, I catch a glimpse of his face. He’s still closed off, still guarded, but there’s something new there now too.

I hope it’s a crack in his armor. He may have irritated the hell out of me just now, but I care about him far more than I should. I want to know him better, to be someone he can open up to about the complicated-sounding relationship he has with his father. And I want him to understand—no, to want to understand me too.

But I don’t have the energy to analyze whatever it is I think I see behind his forest-green eyes. Not until I can manage to cool off the intense emotions still boiling under my skin.

I take a deep breath of crisp winter air, trying to shake the lingering heaviness of fatigue in my limbs. As much as I enjoyed sleeping in the same bed with all the guys, it clearly didn’t allow me to get as rested as a full night’s sleep should have left me feeling.

I move a little farther from the SUV, the cold air hitting my flushed skin like a slap. My legs feel shaky from the lingering frustration, but I figure what I really need is to walk some of it off.

I’m about to head toward the restrooms when Beckett’s voice stops me.

“Lana, wait,” he calls, his tone gruff but with an undercurrent of something I can’t quite place. “You can’t just say all that and walk away.”

I whirl around, my temper flaring again, as if the heat under my skin wants to boil over. “Oh, I can’t? That’s rich coming from you, Mr. I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it.”

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “It’s not that simple.”

I stare at him, hating how he’s keeping me at arm’s length even now.

“It can be.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand?—”

“Because you won’t let me!” I shove at his chest, surprising both of us with the force of it. “You keep pushing me away, and I’m sick of it!”

I turn on my heel, feeling more emotional than I can explain. More than the situation probably warrants, if I’m being honest with myself, since it’s just a temporary agreement we all made.

I head to the bathroom, ignoring him when he calls out again, needing to put some distance between us before I say something I can’t take back. But as I take a step, the world suddenly tilts sideways.

My vision blurs, dark spots dancing at the edges. I try to call out, to reach for something to steady myself, but my body isn’t responding.

The last thing I hear is Beckett calling my name again, his voice tinged with panic.

Then everything goes black.