by Sara Brookes
Broken.
She tore her mouth away from Saint’s, her voice lifting in a high wail as she came around Boyce’s fingers. Saint gave a harsh groan, spilling onto her wrist and stomach as he came. They both panted, fast and hard, as their bodies basked in the afterglow.
Boyce had never seen a more beautiful sight. And damn if he didn’t want to see it again. Over and over. Forever. He really needed to convince her to just give up and confess. But fear kept him from unleashing the demand. Ordering her to tell the truth wouldn’t help.
“Still need to leave?” Boyce murmured against her ear as she went limp. She nodded, gasping when he passed the damp washcloth against her stomach. “It’s not because of the laptop, is it?” Everything about this woman was soft. Sweet. His. Theirs. If she would just admit it to herself, everything would be so much easier. If he could just convince her. “Tell me why, baby.”
Long minutes passed. He thought she’d fallen asleep and intended to arouse her again and again in order to extract the truth, when she sighed. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.”
Saint dipped his head, nipping gently against her shoulder. “You’re safe with us, Grae. Here. With us. Tell us what’s going on inside you.”
She burrowed her face into Boyce’s shoulder. “I will.”
“When you’re ready?” Boyce asked with marked disappointment. Pushing too hard. But damn it, she needed to be pushed. Needed a firm hand to get her past the barrier she’d erected around her heart.
Her soul.
But he also knew he could possibly break through the barrier at the wrong time. The wrong place. She wouldn’t allow it to happen at the club because it was too public. Even in the seclusion of a private room, it would still be too much. As right as Noble House was for many, many things, it wasn’t right for an emotional breakthrough.
“It’s all right, baby. Take the time you need.”
He just hoped that time wasn’t forever.
She nodded, and he pulled her closer as he met Saint’s gaze. Though he still had his suspicions about what was going on he had other ideas as well. There was something holding her back. As though she could partition off pieces of herself in order to surrender to the men. Why? What was the force driving her to act that way? All questions they wouldn’t find out the answers to until Grae found the courage to tell them.
Problem was...Boyce wasn’t certain she’d ever find it.
Chapter Fourteen
Grae wrinkled her nose at the intense aroma of ammonia and bleach as the hospital’s sliding glass doors opened. The muted colors of the main waiting area struggled to counteract the somber mood of the building.
Though she didn’t know Kochran’s sister, she knew a smiling face meant the world to someone dealing with a terminal illness. So when Saint and Boyce had invited her to tag along, she’d immediately agreed to join them.
The heavy weight of the hushed stillness was like a second skin. An oppressive heaviness she would need a scalding hot shower to rid herself of. No one spoke as they found the elevator and made their way to the fifth floor. When the steel doors parted, the heavy quiet seemed to grow weightier. As though a somberness hung in the air, forever reminding visitors of the illnesses seeped in the walls of the building.
Pastel pictures of seascapes and families gathered on the beach hung on the walls of the narrow hallway. More attempts to add a touch of cheer to the air. They failed miserably. Why remind patients of places they might never visit again?
“Duke said they’re transferring Tory to a hospice soon.” The weight of the moment was detectable in Boyce’s voice. “They can’t take care of her at home, but no one deserves to live out their days in this kind of atmosphere.”
Glad someone else had echoed her thoughts. And that she wasn’t the only one bothered by this visit. She imaged the men felt it more because they knew the person they were coming to see.
The pastels gave way to a whitewashed hallway. The floor tiles, fixtures, and even the handrails were all the same off-white color. As though the hospital had gotten a bulk discount for ordering everything in the same shade of white.
The trio stopped at the last door on the hall. Sheets of construction paper had been taped to the face of the door. Those sheets were covered with bold strokes in bright crayon. A child with artistic talent had been busy.
The heavy wood door was partly open and the trilling laughter of a young girl floated toward them. Probably the same one who had drawn the stick figures. Quiet murmurs followed as someone hushed the child.
“Mother, stop it. Ava is enjoying herself.”
“Yes, but—”
“Mother.”
Saint smiled at the biting tone. “Kochran said Tory and Noelle have been going at it since Tory was readmitted.”
“Noelle just wants her daughter treated with kid gloves.” Boyce shrugged. “Surprised she agreed to move Tory to a hospice.”
“She didn’t.” Saint knocked lightly and pushed open the door. It swung back with a hard, grinding creak indicative of rusty hinges. Odd for a hospital. Everything else was so spick-and-span clean.
As the door revealed the room beyond, Grae was also surprised by the in-your-face colors of the walls beyond. Such a stark contrast to the color void in the hallway. In here there were bold blues and greens. A quick inspection of the narrow wall beside her showed someone had papered the walls with glittering wrapping paper.
Grae was also surprised by the number of people packed into the room. Surely the hospital hadn’t authorized that many people at the same time. Then again, Grae’s understanding was Tory didn’t have long to live because of her heart condition. Hard to deny a dying patient anything.
From the little Grae knew of Kochran, family was important to him. No doubt Tory felt the same. Maybe even more so given her condition.
Grae moved to hang back as the two men flanking her stepped forward, but Boyce slipped his arm around her waist. She set her hand on his arm, ready to protest, but the hard look silenced her.
She felt like an interloper. A stranger in a foreign land and totally out of her element. This was private family time. It had been wrong of her to agree to come along. She wanted to disappear like a dust bunny hiding under the bed, but Boyce kept his arm firmly in place as Saint leaned over and kissed Tory’s cheek. “You look well.”
“Bullshit,” Tory murmured with a faint smile.
Boyce released Grae for a split second to brush a kiss on Tory’s forehead. When he stood upright again, he tucked Grae against his side. Saint slipped a finger into her balled fist, working her hand loose so he could twist their fingers together. Sweat beaded Grae’s brow as she pulled her hand away.
Maybe no one noticed.
“Who do we have here?” Tory’s voice was cheerful, though Grae heard the biting edge of someone who had been ill for quite some time.
“I’m Grae.”
Tory’s thin eyebrows rose, though she smiled. “Friend of the boys, I take it?”
Damn.
Grae wanted a great big hole to open up in the floor so she could climb into it and vanish without a trace. “We all went to college together.”
Boyce’s hand tightened reflexively against her side so subtly, it was nearly imperceptible. What she’d said may have annoyed him, but he was too much of a gentleman to confront her in front of all these people.
“I’m just visiting for a few days. I don’t mean to intrude in your private time with your family.”
As Grae looked around to those who had gathered, she felt a distinct sense of disapproval in their assessing gazes. As though each and every family adult member assembled in the room knew she was more than an old college friend to the men. Knew that she wanted more. And they wanted her to know how much they condemned the arrangement.
A vivid reminder
of what she could never have.
Grae’s skin grew itchy as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It had been wrong to come here. Wrong to think she could attempt being seen in public with Saint and Boyce. Wrong to think no one would notice the obvious familiarity between the three.
Her greatest fear was coming to fruition right in this very room.
“Nonsense.” Tory’s friendly tone caused Grae to force her destructive thoughts away. “I see enough of them as it is. I like seeing someone new. Meeting a new face.”
“Grae produces movie trailers,” Saint offered. “And does some computer work on movies.”
Tory’s eyes grew wide, a spark shining through the dulled color of long-term sickness. “Really?” She patted the bed near her thigh. “Come tell me.”
“Victoria, I really think you should rest.”
Tory scowled at her mother’s disapproving tone. “And I really think you’ve overstayed your welcome for the day, Mother. I want to visit with my friends.”
The two women glared at each other for long, tension-filled moments. Noelle looked away first, making it obvious she wanted to keep her dying child happy. She still left in a huff and a cloud of Chanel No. 5. At some point earlier in her life, Noelle Duke had probably been the epitome of class and grace. Her daughter’s terminal condition had obviously taken its toll.
The rest of the family shuffled out behind Noelle, offering apologies and promising to come visit again tomorrow. The stuffiness of the room abated, but the tension threading through Grae was still in place. The damage was done.
“Don’t mind Momma. She thinks she knows best. Wants me wrapped up in bubble wrap to protect me. Even though that’s the last thing I want. Especially right now. She’s not the one with the ticking time bomb in her chest. Wants me to sit here and wither away in bed like some invalid who doesn’t have a soul anymore just because my heart is fucked up. Doctor said as long as I take it easy, I can see whoever I want, whenever I want.”
For a heart patient, Tory certainly had a great deal of passion. Then again, what did she have to lose?
Tory set her hand on the thin hospital sheet again. “Now, sit. Tell me all about what you do. I always wanted to do something artsy fartsy, but my brother got all the artistic talent in the family.”
“Can’t help the fact you sing like a warbling cat.” As Kochran stepped into the room, Tory’s thin face lit up. “Saw Mom barreling down the hallway. What did you say to her this time? Or did you flash the orderly again?”
Tory sat up straight and shook her chest. Her small breasts barely moved under the paper-thin hospital gown. “Do you blame me? He is built like a Greek god. Not like I have a line of suitors waiting for me.” She lifted up the corner of the sheet and gently smacked her hip. “Besides, my ass is the one feature I still have. Gotta take advantage of it while I still can. And plus, backless gown, hello!” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Though, my night nurse is cute too. Maybe I should flash her instead. I’m sure Adelita could get behind that.”
Grae hid a smile behind her hand. Kochran laughed openly as he slipped into the chair the man she assumed was his father had just vacated. It struck Grae how similar the two men were. Their features were too similar not to be related. They shared the same sable-colored hair, rich blue eyes, and narrow nose.
Kochran touched the back of Tory’s hand, the one not covered with her IV tubing. Tory was similar in coloring and stature to her brother, but the illness had taken its toll on her body. Prior to the diagnosis, Tory had more than likely been a stunner with ample curves, thick brown hair, and the kind of round doe eyes that caused men to go to their knees.
Now she was a thin waif of a woman lying in a bed waiting to die.
Tory sighed, relaxing into the high pile of pillows propping her up. “I still want to hear all about your job, Grae. Then we’ll send the men away, and we can get into juicy girl talk. The stuff my brother won’t tell me about his business. The sex club antics he thinks I’m oblivious of or too young to know about. The same club that is a secret I’m holding in my hip pocket. Can’t wait to tell Momma when my ticker here is about to give up. The look on her face is going to be fucking priceless.”
She coughed a few times, alarming Kochran enough that he sat up. “I’m fine. Just excited to hear all about some of my favorite movies in a whole new light. And how much sex other people are having when I can’t. God, if I still had enough energy to be horny, I’d do more than flash the damn orderly. I don’t even remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. Right. Enough of that. You. Famous. Talent. Go.”
The flush heating Grae’s skin was for a very different reason now. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”
“As usual, Grae is being modest. I’ll leave the girl talk bits alone, but...” Saint trailed off as he searched for something on his phone. A thunderous burst of music filled the room as Saint held the phone out to Tory.
Her eyes widened as the images rolled past. Grae recognized the popular theme music she’d had to listen to until she was nauseous when she’d been working on the promotional trailer. The song had burrowed its way so deeply into her brain, she’d thought she’d have to sell her soul to the devil in order to have it scraped away.
“Oh my God,” Tory said with a gasp. “I love that movie. I spent my sophomore year of college swearing up and down to anyone who would listen that I was going to marry Julien Dior. Confection-pink wedding dress and all. I’m totally jealous. One of his other movies, Shamed, has one of the best shots of his bare ass ever. And that scene with him and the two girls. Holy shit, hot.”
Grae remembered that sequence vividly. She’d spent a week working on sculpting that ass to perfection. She’d been paid handsomely for it, too. And given a bonus when that clip had become one of the studio’s most downloaded videos ever.
“Hate to break it to you, but Julien’s ass isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Tory blinked twice, then burst out laughing. She pulled Grae into a hearty bear hug. “We are going to get along splendidly.”
Chapter Fifteen
Boyce was tense.
Exhausted.
Unbearably horny.
And Saint’s words from the previous night kept echoing through his head.
You haven’t picked up your camera for a session in months. You’ve canceled long-standing appointments. Brushed off clients that you’ve worked with for years. I’m worried about you.
Boyce moved through a series of yoga poses, grimacing as his mind raced. He’d transitioned through the poses more quickly that he would have liked. Or should have. His mind was so...unfocused. As much as he hated to admit it, Saint was right. Being honest with himself, Boyce recognized all the signs.
That breakdown a few weeks ago had been a long time coming.
With Grae around now, Boyce had something to focus on. Something to believe in. There were times he wanted to be there for Saint and couldn’t because he was too far gone into his head. Now there was someone else. Someone who gave Saint the things Boyce couldn’t anymore.
Boyce pulled in a lungful of oxygen and held it as he let his mind relax. Yoga had become a sanctuary for him, something to help him focus his body and mind. He’d lapsed in his practice of it in the weeks leading up to the breakdown. All because he thought he knew better. That he could handle it without the morning routine.
Nothing like a swift kick in the ass.
So he was back at it. Felt better. Calmer. He would never be totally free of some of the horrors he’d faced. Three different head docs had assured him of that. But he could have mastery of his mind as long as he worked to rein it in.
Oddly, playing at the club usually helped. There was a peace that came with tying someone down, focusing on them so entirely that he forgot about his problems. He was determined to get ba
ck to normal. That was why he’d kept the sitting appointment Enver had booked today. Enver had a new sub he was working on some techniques with, and he wanted to show her what he saw. Seeing images all tied up and bound sometimes helped a submissive understand what the Dom saw.
As Boyce moved into warrior pose, one knee bent, one leg kicked out behind him with his arms spread wide, he breathed deep into the position, remembering the way Grae felt surrounding him. How she looked spread out on the desk, the flush of arousal coloring her chest and the upper curves of her breasts.
So gorgeous.
Even more so when Saint had rigged her up and fucked her in front of the televisions.
He’d spent the hour before both scenes with her preparing. Doing deep breathing exercises to put him in the right mindset. Both scenes had gone off without a hitch. A sign she belonged with them. But like Saint, Boyce knew Grae was restraining herself. Holding back some vital piece of information that was key to the trio being truly happy.
He’d watched his lover guide Grae through the scene with the expert skill he was known for. But there was more. A loving caress. A tender gaze against the cheek. The very same things that Boyce had done when he’d been the lead Dom in the scene.
Grae wasn’t just some sub they were passing the time with.
Each passing day cemented the fact she was so much more.
Boyce wasn’t surprised. Aside from a few bumps in the road, the relationship he’d cultivated with Saint had been effortless. Sure they had the same fights most couples had, but they had very little that rocked their boat.
Even discovering their mutual interest in kink had been easy. There had never been a clear divide as to who was the more dominant partner. That exchange always flowed and ebbed between them easily. Once they’d been able to put a name to their true nature—switch—it seemed as though the world had been spread out before them.
