Filthy Rich Santas

35. Beckett

35

BECKETT

My body feels more relaxed than I can ever remember after a scene like this. Not just sexually sated, but something deeper that I’m not willing to look at. Instead, I carefully disentangle myself from the others and get to my feet.

The room is quiet except for the soft breathing of the others. Lana is still fast asleep, looking soft and flushed and just as tempting in sleep as she does awake. Ryder and Tristan have both dozed off on either side of her, and it’s far too tempting to pull her back into my arms, close my eyes, and stay a little longer.

Tempting, but dangerous. I was not fucking prepared for this.

I scrub a hand over my face, then turn away to grab my clothes. I’ve kept my feelings for Lana locked away for years, buried so deep I thought they’d never see the light of day.

No matter how good the sex is—and it’s fucking phenomenal—it’s not the time to unearth those feelings now.

Or ever.

I get dressed as quietly as I can, then slip out of the room, wondering if I should have stuck to my initial plan when Tristan first proposed this arrangement. I was determined not to let her touch me even after we all agreed to help her explore her kinks. I instinctively knew that if I broke, if I really got into this with her, there was a chance I would never recover from it.

But I did break, and while I’m not sure I was wrong about it wrecking me, what’s done is done now. And I wouldn’t give up these past few days for anything.

Still, right now, I need to clear my head.

The hallway outside the private room that our friend Dustin, Eclipse’s owner, gave us for the night has mostly emptied out now, and I head toward the main area, hoping to find him.

“Looking for something I can help you with, sir?”

A curvy sub wearing a bracelet that tells me she came to play smiles at me as I pause near the St. Andrew’s cross in the main play area, scanning the dimly lit area for the familiar face of my friend.

“I’m good,” I tell her absently, finally catching sight of Dustin.

I grin at the sight of him. We’ve been friends for years, and the guy is even more heavily tattooed and pierced than I am.

He’s also one of the main people who first encouraged me, Tristan, and Ryder to open Radiance—encouragement that he followed up with a lot of practical advice.

He’s always been a good sounding board, and as I approach him, he takes one look at me and gets a knowing smirk on his face.

Fuck. He knows me too well, and I’ve got no doubt at all that he realizes some of the shit I’m currently so off kilter about after that incredible scene.

Then again, I guess that’s why I sought him out.

“Well, well. Look who finally emerged,” he says with a grin, nodding toward an empty barstool near the tall table he’s leaning against. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to say hello.”

“You know I wouldn’t show up without doing that,” I tell him, clapping his back when he pulls me in for a hug.

I slide onto the barstool he indicated and ask about his wife.

Dustin’s eyes go warm. “Carolyn is great. She’ll be sad she missed you.”

“You’ll have to tell her hello from all three of us.”

“You know it, brother.”

He turns to a passing server, flicking his fingers toward us, and a moment later, she comes over and slides a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses onto the table.

“I could use something stronger,” I grunt, making him laugh as he pours and passes me a glass.

We both know alcohol and consent don’t mix. It’s why neither one of our clubs allows it, not on any night that play is allowed.

I take the water, though, and he raises his own glass in a mock toast, smirking. “I heard you drew a crowd. Don’t tell me that wasn’t a good time.”

“It was a fucking great time,” I say with a grin that feels a little feral.

My mind may still be reeling from all the feelings I can’t seem to shove back down tonight, but Lana consenting to putting on that hot-as-fuck show of exhibitionism is something I’ll never forget.

“Thanks for letting us have the room for the night,” I add. “You know I owe you one now.”

Dustin waves me off. “Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for.”

“That just means that you’re gonna have to bring Carolyn out to L.A. one of these days so we can host the two of you at Radiance.”

“She’d fucking love to get out to the coast like that,” he says, “but not gonna lie, what I’m really interested in is checking out the new place you three are planning to open up. How’s that coming along?”

“On track,” I tell him, ignoring the twinge I get at the thought of what it will mean.

Not that I’m not fucking excited about it, because I am. It’s a smart business move, and as proud as I am of Radiance, I’d be lying if I said I’m not itching to take some of what we learned from running the place and take things to the next level with our second location.

But fuck, it means moving out of Los Angeles.

Which means moving away from Lana.

I shut that train of thought down fast, and Dustin and I fall into some comfortable shop talk about the differences between the scene here versus out west, operating our clubs, and general management shit.

But after a while, the wily fucker steers the conversation back around to this surprise visit we dropped on him.

“So, the girl you brought in…”

He lets his words trail off, and I treat him to a dead-eyed stare that doesn’t throw him off at all.

“What’s her name again?” he asks with a shit-eating grin.

“Lana,” I grunt. “Lana Reeves.”

“Was it her first time in a kink club?”

My mind flashes back to the shock that ran through me that night she walked into Radiance, but that doesn’t count since nothing happened.

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s something she’s, uh, been wanting to explore, so we thought we’d give her a treat since we were in the area.”

He smirks. “A treat? Is that what we’re calling it now.”

I flip him off, then glance back toward the hallway I left when I catch the swing of long, wavy brunette hair out of the corner of my eye.

It’s not Lana, but when I turn back, Dustin is looking at me curiously. “She means something to you.”

“Of course she does. You remember Caleb, yeah? Plays for the NHL? She’s his little sister. We grew up with her.”

“Hm.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What the fuck does ‘hm’ mean?”

He grins. “I’ve seen you play with subs before. I’ve seen all three of you scene with temporary partners over the years. But this was different, wasn’t it?”

Fuck yeah, it was. Admitting it out loud feels like I’d be unleashing a shit show I’m not prepared for, though, so I just give him a hard stare that I know from experience would keep any submissive in this place quiet, and hold my tongue.

Too bad Dustin isn’t a fucking submissive.

“She must be special,” he pushes, that shit-eating grin back in place. “The way the three of you walked in with her. Hell, what I saw when you opened up the room…”

“What about it?”

“She means something to you,” he says, dropping the shit stirring act and laying it out there plain and simple.

And fuck, hearing it like that makes my heart twist.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “To all three of us.”

Dustin waits a beat, then leans in. “But…?”

I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. “But it’s too fucking complicated, man. She’s Caleb’s sister, for one thing. No way would he be pleased to know what went on here tonight.”

“Good thing he’s not here then.”

I glare at him, but the understanding look on his face makes me drop it. The truth is, I do need to unload this shit, and while my usual go-to for anything deep like this would be one of the men down the hall, I’m not going to bring it up with them when I can tell we’re all struggling with something similar.

They’re too close to it, but Dustin isn’t.

“Even if that wasn’t the case, she’s settled in L.A. We haven’t finalized the city for the new club, but we’re down to three contenders and are just a few months away from making the move.”

Dustin nods, but stays quiet as I drain the water glass, then pour another, really fucking wishing it was whiskey right now.

“Plus, she wants kids,” I say, slamming the empty glass down on the table a little too hard. “I don’t. Never have, and that’s a fucking understatement. I’d be a shit father. Besides, what would it even look like? All four of us in a relationship?” I snort, shaking my head. “Fucking, doing a few scenes, sharing a bed, that’s one thing. One very fucking temporary thing. But anything beyond that would get…”

I shake my head, a heavy weight settling on my chest.

Fuck, spilling all of that just worked me deeper into a funk, and that’s a goddamn travesty after the incredible high from the scene we just shared with Lana.

Dustin leans forward. “It would get what, Beck? If you tried to make it not so interesting, things would get… interesting?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Complicated.”

The fucker hmms at me again, nodding as he holds my stare with an almost-smile on his face.

“What?” I demand.

Dustin just shrugs, that knowing look still in his eyes that kind of makes me want to punch him.

And also kind of makes me hope he has some amazing insight I’ve missed.

“Remember when I first met Carolyn?”

“‘Course I do. Fuck, that demo you two did together was hot.”

He strokes his chin, a predatory gleam appearing in his eyes. “Everything with that woman is hot.” Then he shakes it off, focusing on me again. “Too hot, I figured at the time. Convinced myself that trying to take that combustible chemistry between us out into the real world was a fucking recipe for disaster. Hell, there were a dozen reasons why we wouldn’t work. Our schedules alone made it fucking impossible, what with me primarily needing to work nights.”

I frown, not sure where he’s going with this. “You two are solid though, yeah?”

A look comes over his face that makes my heart clench again. “Oh, fuck yeah. She’s my forever.”

I knew that. Hell, anyone who’s ever seen them together knows that.

“I’m happy for you, man.”

He grins at me. “And I’m happy I pulled my head out of my ass. Once I did, it turned out, none of those reasons I talked myself around in the beginning ended up being as insurmountable as I first thought. Not once I got clear on my priorities.”

“Priorities?”

He gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “My priority is Carolyn. Full fucking stop.”

I don’t know what to do with that. I get what he’s saying when it comes to him and Carolyn. Like I said, I remember when they met. But this thing with Lana isn’t the same situation at all.

Not that I can find the words to explain why—to him or to myself.

The silence stretches between us for a moment, then Dustin claps me on the shoulder and thankfully, changes the subject. After a few minutes, though, I start to get antsy.

“I should get back,” I tell him, getting to my feet.

Dustin nods, reaching out to clasp my shoulder. “Take care, man. And remember, sometimes the things that seem impossible are the ones most worth fighting for.”

I grunt in response, not trusting myself to speak. We say our goodbyes, and I head back toward the private room I left Lana and the guys in, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

When I slip back into the room, Tristan and Ryder are already stirring.

“Time to head out?” Ryder asks as Tristan cleans his glasses, then starts putting away the ropes.

I give him a look, an understanding passing between us without words. It’s time to leave the club, yeah. And fuck, we’re also almost to the end of this trip.

The guys get themselves ready, and I move to the bed where Lana’s still sleeping peacefully. For a moment, I just look at her. She looks like a fucking dream, and my chest tightens at how beautiful she is like this.

Not that she isn’t always, but tonight it’s different. We staked a claim here, and temporary or not, it’s gonna leave a mark on me.

She sighs in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering as she reaches for a warm body that’s not next to her anymore.

I capture her hand and hold it in both of mine. “Come on, little menace. Time to wake up.”

Her eyes open, still soft with sleep and a little out of focus. Then I squeeze her hand, and when she focuses on me, she smiles.

“Is it time to go?” she asks, her voice husky.

“Yeah,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. My fingers linger on her cheek for a second longer than necessary, and I’m tempted to kiss her.

But I’m also content with just this—the feel of her silky skin under my fingertips and the warm, trusting look she gives me that has my chest feeling tight again.

I clear my throat, then help her up, all three of us making a silent note of how worn out she still is. I’m not sure if it’s the lupus or how hard we played, but Tristan, Ryder, and I are all in sync about the need to take a little extra care with her.

We help her get dressed, and when she tries to stifle a yawn as we head for the exit, I scoop her up into my arms, cradling her against my chest.

“Beckett!” She laughs, her eyes drowsy as she shakes her head. “You don’t have to carry me.”

Ryder snorts. “I’m pretty sure ‘have to’ isn’t the right word for it, love.”

“I want to,” I admit, holding her gaze as Dustin’s comment about priorities flashes through my mind.

A hint of a blush colors her cheeks, but after a second, she nods. “Well, okay. If you’re sure.”

“Sure? Trust me, little menace, there’s nothing I want more than to have you in my arms right now.”

It’s the most honest I’ve ever been about emotional shit, and when she gives me a sweet, sleepy smile, resting her head on my shoulder and relaxing against me, I can’t even regret it.