Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  A concept difficult for me to grasp. Regardless of how difficult it is for me to form an attachment—much less feel an attraction—it's ultimately something I crave. Closeness, companionship, love, and passion. I've been lucky to share the two former with Tess, but I want the rest, as well.

  She's different. For a long time, I couldn’t quite believe it. I was certain her own nature was caused by the abuse she suffered at the hands of her father from an early age, and I may have been a complete asshole when I pushed Tess to seek counseling for it. Well, my disbelief focused on the part where she claimed she didn't want anyone to share her life with on an intimate level.

  A few years after Abby was born, I know Tess met a man at the hospital where she works, but it didn’t go beyond a date or two. There's never any panic or anxiety triggered, just a sense of unhappiness and resignation.

  "I think it still worries me," I confess.

  She's not surprised. "That’s because you confuse alone for loneliness. I'm far from lonely. I have amazing friends, a family I love, a job that’s slowly killing me in a hectic but good way, and plenty of time for my hobbies." She pauses. "I'll miss the familiarity of having you at home, but you and I…" Indeed. We were never in love. We needed each other for different reasons. "It hurts you haven't been honest with me, though."

  "I know." I swallow hard, filled with regret. "Would you…be willing to let me make amends? I want—I want what we used to have." My life has never come as close to perfection as it did about ten years ago. We were on the exact same page, wanted to start a family, and most of all, we were best friends. She knows all there is to know about me. And the other way around. I want us to find a way back to that.

  Tess shakes her head, amused. "I can't wait for people to learn you're not the arrogant patriarch you've had them believe. Quite the opposite." Way to point out I'm actually the uncertain one in our marriage. "We'll get there, Greg." She pats my arm and settles against me, to which I automatically drape an arm around her shoulders.

  I kiss her temple too, the rock in my stomach becoming smaller. At the same time, I get nervous like never before. So much is about to change.

  "I love you," I whisper against her skin.

  "I love you, too." She tilts her head up to face me. "Tell me about this married couple?"

  "Oh God," I mutter. "I'm going to need more alcohol for this." I take a gulp and swallow against the sweet bitterness. "Believe it or not, but they're into the same nonsense Mark is."

  Tess chuckles. "BDSM?" I nod in answer, and she grins. "Hmm. You've hidden your body quite a bit these past several months. Are you into that nonsense, too? Painful nonsense that gives you reason to hide something, maybe?"

  I make a face. "I'll plead the Fifth."

  "You're not on trial, honey. You know it's okay to enjoy it."

  "Mm, it's just going to be a bitch to admit to certain people." Mark comes to mind. That level of resentment is a hard pill to swallow, but I have to remind myself that he didn’t know. His treatment toward me stems from my behavior; he doesn’t know what sparked it.

  It twists my stomach to acknowledge I miss him.

  "Technically, you don’t have to tell him you're kinky, do you?" Tess wrinkles her nose.

  "Most definitely not." I shudder at the thought. "But I have a feeling he'll figure it out once he learns of Ryan and Angel." In our family, it's a certainty. Gossip arrives more promptly than the mail. "I do have to face him sooner or later."

  "True." Tess gazes at me, her light brown eyes twinkling. "Ryan and Angel, huh?"

  "Ah. Yes." I clear my throat. Perhaps we should change the topic. "I'm feeling highly uncomfortable discussing this with my wife, so how about we—"

  "Discuss it further? I agree."

  "Good grief," I sigh. "You are a stubborn woman, dear."

  "Hey." She palms my cheek gently, and her gaze softens. "Who's been telling you to be yourself around more than just me for the past twenty years?"

  I turn my head and kiss the inside of her hand. "You."

  Christ, I feel even worse now. Downright spoiled. For as much shit as I've thrown in my own path, Tess has been there to support me. I've had no right to dispute the fact that I'm a lucky man.

  "I think that entitles me to choose the topic," she concludes, "so go on, I'd like to know more about Ryan and Angel."

  Wonderful.

  *

  "Abby!" Tess calls from upstairs. "Sweetie, come help me unpack!"

  I'm in the kitchen with Abby, and I frown at how she literally sticks her fingers in her ears and goes back to reading her comic book at the table.

  Clearing my throat loudly, I sure get her attention.

  "That’s very rude, young lady." I point toward the stairs. "Go help your mother."

  "But—ohh," she whines. "I wanna finish my—" At my stern look, she shuts her mouth and sulks her way up the stairs.

  It leaves me alone, and I tug at my tie for the hundredth time this hour and grab the phone. Coming home last night had me in high spirits because of how Tess and I wrapped up our vacation. Decisions were made, plans were set in motion, and I feel like I've gotten my best friend back. On the other hand, now I'm home, and I have to find the courage to call Ryan and Angel.

  I'm not getting divorced.

  Ryan once mentioned they had new terms. Now, so do I. A lot is at stake.

  I would like at least a semblance of privacy, so I bring the phone to the enclosed terrace beyond the living room. Our backyard is a mess, neglected during the winter. A backyard is something I want in my life. A house, not an apartment above a bar. A house with a backyard in a good school district.

  "Here goes everything," I mutter and dial Ryan's cell.

  It's past six, so he and Angel should have finished their shifts.

  "Ryan here, who's this?"

  I nearly drop the phone like an imbecile. "Ah—shit. Hello? It's me. Greg."

  There's a pause before the rich timbre of his voice fills the receiver again. "I don't recognize the number."

  Right. Of course he doesn’t. "This is my home phone number."

  "Oh, yeah? Hm. So what's up?"

  He's not going to give me an inch before I've made a gesture. I understand that.

  Another moment of truth. My face warms up. "I, uh, I was calling to ask if you and Angel want to have dinner with me."

  This second pause causes my throat to close up. Have I missed my chance? He told me to take my time and think things through, and the next time I showed up, it would be because I wanted more. Despite that I've missed them like crazy, it's only been a couple weeks. I hope that's not too long to—

  "Like a date?" A trickle of mirth in Ryan's tone eases some of the nerves.

  "Yes, a date."

  "Well, hell. Count us in, boy."

  I rub my mouth, hiding a smile of relief. "I'll make reservations."

  *

  The following weekend, I find myself in the city driving toward the Wharf. I'm here often enough for business dinners and lunches, but this time it's different. There's a romantic little place with a great view where I plan on pleading my case to Ryan and Angel.

  I run a hand through my hair and check the rearview. The bruises have faded, and Aruba even grazed my Irish body with a slight tan that isn't lobster red. Small miracles. I won't be ordering a nice steak to sink my teeth into, but my jaw can handle salmon and softer meats.

  The valet takes care of my car, and I straighten my tie and head inside the restaurant. I received a text earlier from Ryan; he told me they'd be a few minutes late because they missed their transit.

  They don’t like to drive in the city, he said.

  "Cooper, party of three," I tell the hostess. "My companions will be here soon."

  "Of course, sir. Follow me, please."

  As requested, there's a table farther in the back for us. The windows give us a great view of the marina. With the low ceiling and intimate lighting, I hope I've picked the right place for a first—official�
��date.

  The rich aromas of seafood and herbs invade my senses, and I accept a drink menu with a polite nod. Time to show I've learned at least a little by paying attention.

  "Would you like to order something while you wait?" the hostess asks.

  "I would, yes. Thank you." I open the menu, and she tells me she'll send a waitress right over.

  It gives me a moment to shrug out of my suit jacket and smooth down my tie once or twice too many. Sue me, I'm a nervous wreck.

  Once the waitress arrives, I order a stout for Ryan and red wine for Angel and myself. It's one I've seen her drink more than once, so it better be because she likes it.

  "Yup, right over there," I hear Ryan say. Fuck, they're here. I look up as the hostess leads Ryan and Angel, two more menus in her hand. How the hell can they be so fucking beautiful?

  I manage a careful smile. "Hello, you two." More relief fills me at the sight of Angel's soft grin, and I leave my seat to help her with her coat. Then I have to swallow past a river of desire. Her platinum waves linger down her tempting cleavage, and she's wearing a stunning satiny dress, the green color matching her gorgeous eyes. It's the first time I've seen either of them wearing anything remotely formal.

  They do it well. So goddamn well.

  She hasn’t said a word. Instead, she chooses a wider grin that makes a dimple appear, and she taps her cheek for me.

  I dip down and brush a kiss to her soft skin. "Thank you for coming, beautiful girl."

  "There was no question," she whispers back.

  I smile and slide my gaze to Ryan, and holy hell, I'm screwed. He hangs his jacket on his chair and smirks lazily, looking hotter than sin in tailored dress pants, a white button-down, and a charcoal vest that goes with the pants. Who knew the rough-around-the-edges bad boy owned a three-piece?

  "We're not complete heathens." He tugs me close and cups my neck, letting our foreheads touch. "It's good to see you, pet."

  "You too, Sir," I manage.

  A neatly trimmed beard completes his look and turns my sadistic bartender into a dapper rogue with a devilish smile.

  With an affectionate squeeze to my neck, he lets me go, and we take our seats around the round table.

  Angel comments on my tan, and I have just enough time to explain I took my family on vacation before our drinks arrive. Then we order our food, and I admit I fret a little when Angel goes with a linguini sans the seafood. I doubt the pasta with only the sauce will taste good, even though she orders a couple side dishes.

  "Do you not like seafood?" I do my best to keep my worry to myself. I could've sworn I've heard her mentioning that she loves shrimp.

  The Quinns share a smile, and Ryan lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles.

  "Not much seafood for me for a while." Angel's eyes dance with joy. "I'm pregnant."

  "Oh—" My own eyes smart, but I blink past it quickly and grin, happy for them. "That was—damn, that was fast." I squeeze Ryan's hand on the table and lean over to Angel, kissing her cheek. "Congratulations."

  "Thank you." Angel blushes, a rare sight. But oh, so lovely.

  "We can go someplace else," I offer.

  "Hell, no. I'm starving," she says. "I ordered plenty."

  All right. I eye her untouched wine. "So much for me impressing you by knowing what drink you like."

  She laughs then winks. "It's the thought that counts."

  "Luckily for me, I like wine, too." Ryan steals Angel's wine, setting the glass next to his beer. After taking a sip of both, he leans back casually and steeples his fingers across his stomach. Under the table, he stretches out his legs and locks my left foot between them. "How was your vacation?"

  "Much needed," I answer. "I opened up to my wife about everything, and…" I clear my throat and shift in my seat. "I have to open up to you, too. About my marriage, I mean. It's not…conventional, in that sense."

  At Ryan's patient expression and "Go on," I follow Tess's advice and start at the beginning. With her permission, I tell Ryan and Angel about my wife's background with abuse and what she looked for in a place to call home. Safety, comfort, platonic love to keep her warm. And how it fit me too, since I was so adamant about normalcy and how hard I strived to adopt traditional values.

  "Wait, so you're saying you weren't unfaithful?" Angel wonders.

  "I'm saying we don't have those boundaries," I murmur. "We're married—she's my best friend—but we're not together." I pause. "I did betray her. We vowed to be open and honest with one another, and I've failed since the day I met you two. But, no, being intimate with you didn’t cross any lines."

  "Then why didn’t you say so?" Her face falls. "I called you a cheater."

  "I've been called worse." I lift a shoulder in a shrug. "When you let people assume, it leads to fewer follow-up questions, and it's a pretty fair assumption."

  Ryan observes me but doesn’t have any questions. It hits me that he rarely does in the beginning. He's much more content to sit back and gather information until the image is clearer. In the meantime, he'll merely listen and be patient.

  "The thing is," I continue nervously, "I've made the decision to stay married to her—for the time being. What she and I share has nothing to do with everything I want with you. She's been my biggest supporter and companion for almost twenty years, and together we've created a good home for our daughter."

  Ryan's calculating gaze is becoming unnerving, and Angel is suddenly unreadable, as well.

  "I would like to keep a sliver of that with her," I admit. "That said…I—" Good fucking hell, this is harder to divulge than I thought. Never have I felt so damn vulnerable. "I want to belong to you." I avert my gaze, finding it to be too much. "I want to share my primary home with you. I want Abby to know you." At last, Ryan thaws a bit. "I won't hide anything. Given my daughter's age, I do want to keep her from unnecessary instability, and if a child can have two homes, so can an adult. Tess and I both feel it would be an easier transition for Abby if I, say, can come and go as I wish—come over for dinner a couple times a week and maybe even spend the night every now and then. But my real home would be with you." As soon as those words leave me, I feel the need to backtrack. "If this dating thing goes well, I mean. I have no clue about your thoughts or expectations."

  Ryan's mouth twitches. "You're adorable when you ramble, subbie."

  I gather enough guts to send the bastard a quick glare.

  What if they saw me in court? They wouldn’t know it's me. There's certainly no indecisiveness or fumbling there.

  He grins and leans forward. "As long as we're honest with each other and no one is kept a secret, we're flexible. Angel and I are married, so it'd be unfair of us to ask that you let everything go before we've even established a relationship." He finds my hand on the table and weaves our fingers together. "Make no fucking mistake, though. We're not open."

  "Not even a little," Angel supplies with a quirk of her lips. "It'll be you, Ryan, and me. No one else."

  "That’s a nonissue," I promise, wondering if I can relax now. It's bizarre how much I want this—and that I'm positive I'm more than halfway in love with both of them, yet I haven't kissed Ryan. Nor have I fucked Angel or ever been their equal.

  "Furthermore," Angel goes on, "D/s is a natural component in our everyday life. You and I submit to Ryan, you submit to me, but love comes first. We will have clear boundaries for playtime, and no more denying aftercare or running away. You'll come to me or Ryan with your problems, like any partner. He and I will do the same."

  She's in her Domme mode, which is as arousing as it's cute and scary.

  "Understood, Ma'am." I halt the conversation there as our food arrives.

  Ryan takes the reins once the waitress has left and our table is full of food.

  "How is your wife dealing with this?" He breaks off a piece of bread and drags it through his lobster sauce. "Would it be possible to meet her some day?"

  "She's probably handling it better than I am." Because isn't that how it alwa
ys is for us? "She's mentioned having you over for dinner, so I don't think that’s a problem."

  "That would be nice." Angel smiles. "What about this are you struggling with now?"

  "The fact that she'd like my younger brother to come to the same dinner," I say wryly. "She likes it when everyone gets along."

  "Good woman," Ryan murmurs. "Nothin' bad about reconciling."

  I furrow my brow, side-eyeing him as I cut into my salmon. "I'd dread it if you two got along."

  He chuckles. "He a part of a community?"

  I incline my head. "A close friend of his runs a fetish club called Switch. Mark works the bar there."

  "Well, hey. We've been there a couple times." Ryan winks at Angel, who flushes at some decadent memory, no doubt. "We'll have to go again."

  "It would have to be without me." For which I'm goddamn grateful. Coming clean to Mark and perhaps opening a dialogue that’s less venomous is one thing. Going to the same BDSM venue is another ball game entirely. "I'm sure I've been banned for life." At Angel's confused expression, I explain that’s where I fought with Mark. And hurt people in my intoxicated path.

  Good grief, those were some dark days.

  Ryan hums around a mouthful of food. "As your Owner, I reckon it's my job to see if that can be fixed."

  Owner.

  The restaurant suddenly feels a lot warmer.

  *

  "Can I break in our new pet when we get upstairs?" Angel asks from the back seat. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

  I'm the new pet. What breaking in entails, I'm not sure my balls want to know.

  "Nope. Daddy comes first, princess." Ryan smirks at his pun and gives my thigh a squeeze. He's testing my self-control. Or my driving skills, perhaps. "I have plans for you."

  I'm unsure of whether that "you" was plural. I can only hope, though I'm counting my blessings here. Our first date went well, and Ryan didn’t put up much of a fight when I insisted on paying for dinner. That bodes well for the future, I think.

  Hitting the corner by their building, I wait for the lights to turn green before taking a left.