Their Virgin Secretary

Chapter Fifteen

Belle sighed deeply as she dried the last dish and put it away. Dinner had been another awkward affair, full of stilted conversation where everyone avoided talking about the future. Instead, they’d discussed the tile she’d chosen for the downstairs bathroom and the removal of the hideous vomit yellow floral wallpaper in the master bath, but she knew they’d been half listening, more frustrated that she wasn’t budging about returning to Chicago.

How long could they remain in this limbo? They no longer mentioned their work to her, even though she’d told them she was interested. In fact, Belle was beginning to think they weren’t talking much at all. They definitely weren’t communicating.

The sound of her grandmother’s old television filtered in from the living room. Ah, the news. At this time of the evening, the broadcast was local, the usual fare that attempted to be hard-hitting while forcing in odd banter now and then.

After she’d painted the living room, the men had moved their office there. The space was far larger and contained more work surfaces, so they could spread out. Unfortunately, it also meant she couldn’t walk in and see them five times a day. She didn’t have a logical excuse, as she had in the kitchen. None of them were gullible enough to believe that she’d come into the living room for a drink of water or a nibble to tide her over until dinner. The formal space was in a corner of the house, so she couldn’t just happen by. When Belle did gather up the courage to enter their new “office,” she didn’t know what to say. So she’d stopped going. Other than meals, she barely saw them during the day. But she missed those men so much.

It had been over a week since she’d discovered them on her doorstep. She’d grown accustomed to finding them all over the house—maybe talking on the phone in front of the refrigerator or huddled in her favorite chair in the parlor with a laptop and coffee. But since she told them she didn’t see the relationship lasting, something had shifted. They’d relegated themselves to a room far out of her way and rarely left there unless they retreated to their own bedrooms. If she worked up the courage to ask for their help with a task, they graciously agreed to do it, but they no longer sought her out for a morning flirtation or an afternoon chat. They didn’t try to make her laugh or steal an afternoon kiss. They didn’t crowd her or watch her with hungry stares. Some days she wondered if they really even looked at her anymore.

After the work day, the men had fallen into patterns. They all had their assigned chores and performed them with the politeness of good roommates. They gave her every distant courtesy. She couldn’t fault them in any way—except the emotional chasm they seemed to be digging between her and them.

From the moment she woke until the time she went to bed, Belle’s frustration made her want to scream. And her heart felt so close to breaking.

At least until deep in the night. Then they ceased being distant roommates and came to her as lovers. Every night, they seduced her, touched her, groaned about how good she felt until she couldn’t think straight. They took her with their fingers, mouths, and cocks repeatedly. They impaled her ass with progressively larger plugs and they spanked her. They tied her up and forced her to take them in any and every way they wanted her. They consumed her completely as they made love to her.

Had sex, she corrected herself mentally. They had sex with her. They never mentioned love anymore. They cuffed her and teased her until they made her shout out their names. They grew their collection of toys a little each day and used them on her relentlessly. They taught her the intricacies of a D/s relationship, playing the role of her Masters every single night. And though Eric and Tate still slept in her room, they no longer cuddled her the way they used to. They merely stayed close so she would feel safe. Tate had even dragged an overstuffed chair into the room and began sleeping there.

Kellan always left the moment the orgasms ended. He would make her cry out until her throat felt scratchy and raw. Then he would depart for his own room, and she wouldn’t see him again until he nodded her way as they passed in the hall the next morning like relative strangers.

When they shared their bodies and such pleasure, Belle thought only of how they made her feel. When they were in bed together, she didn’t think about the future. She lived in the moment. But the moment was starting to confine her. Oppress her. Depress her.

With a weary sigh, she stepped away from the kitchen sink and sat at the eat-in table. Restlessness settled over her. She couldn’t seem to quiet the voices in her head. It had been days since she’d told Tate, Eric, and Kellan that she couldn’t return to Chicago with them. Belle still knew she couldn’t resume her old life, but she now dreaded the moment they would walk away. Because they would. Soon they’d realize she wasn’t the woman for them. Despite Tate’s idiosyncrasies and Kellan’s reluctance to get involved, they were a packaged deal. They would never be happy any other way. When they realized she couldn’t fulfill them, they would leave her for good.

Life wasn’t fair. She’d learned that at a young age. She’d watched fate snatch away her mother’s happy ending. After her father’s death, Mom hadn’t believed she had anything to live for. When her men had packed up and gone home, Belle feared she’d feel the same.

Sir scratched at the back door and she got up to let him out, closing the door quickly to keep out the humidity of the night.

At least the air conditioner seemed to be working now. It was a small miracle. Sir barked, and Belle saw the outline of that damn cat prowling around in the dark. The thing seemed to delight in making her dog insane.

The kitchen door swung open, and Eric strode through. He grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Thanks for doing the dishes.”

His tone was so polite, it hurt. “Thank you for cooking dinner. Are you still working?”

He nodded. “Yeah, my hearing got postponed until Monday, but I’ve got to be there. I bought my plane tickets this morning. I’ll only be gone for two days. Will you be okay here?”

She nodded, but the thought of not seeing him even for a few days made her anxious and achy. “Sure. Things should settle down now that the A/C is fixed and the wiring finally seems to be up to code.”

“I won’t be sad to see that pervert go.” Eric had never warmed to Mike. “What’s your next project?”

She hated the distance between them. He didn’t move closer to her, didn’t reach out to take her in his arms. The abyss seemed to widen every day. “The parlor. I’m going to sand the wainscoting and strip the paint from the crown molding so I can stain them and restore both to a more period-appropriate color.”

He nodded again, but it was a negligent gesture. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

And then he was gone once more, heading back to the living room and leaving a terrible void in his wake.

Something had to give. Right now, she just hoped Eric actually came back from Chicago. What if he got there and remembered how much he loved it, how much less complicated everything was in his office? How much he enjoyed the comforts of his home? What if he called in a few days and told her to have a good life? Kell and Tate would leave shortly thereafter.

At the terrible thought, a sob rose up inside her.

Once, she’d thought they’d all be better off if the guys left. Now, Belle wasn’t entirely sure she’d live through their parting. She’d gotten so used to being with them, to having them in her everyday life. She couldn’t imagine how quiet the house would be without them. But her feelings stemmed from more than a worry about being lonely. Belle would miss them like she’d miss the beating heart they’d tear from her chest when they left.

She took a deep breath and picked up her tea mug. Weariness threatened to invade her bones. Despite the fact that she wasn’t alone at night, what little sleep she got wasn’t restful. Her dreams were still haunted by swinging ropes and screaming women as they were dragged to their deaths. She still heard those whispers in the night that warned her to leave. Often, she’d sit straight up in bed. Then the voices would stop, only to start again when she settled back against her pillow.

The sound from the television drifted from the living room.

Police are still investigating the murder of local madam, Karen Ehlers, age fifty-nine. Ehlers allegedly ran the most upscale brothel in New Orleans. She was found strangled in her home just over a week ago amid rumors that she was preparing to write a tell-all autobiography that would have outed several of New Orleans’s most powerful men as her clients. The police haven’t made any arrests. In a press conference earlier today, they requested that anyone with information about Elhers’s infamous client list or the murder contact them.

Belle shuddered as she walked into the parlor and saw another dead woman center screen. The last thing she needed before bed was to listen to tales of death and mayhem. She already had them running through her head every night.

Belle stretched as she walked into the parlor and turned on the overhead lights. They illuminated the room with warm, golden light as she headed for her favorite chair in the house. It was a big comfortable wingback in the corner. The fabric was an eye-assaulting brocade, but she couldn’t bring herself to change it. Big bookshelves full of eclectic tomes flanked the chair, and the prettiest Tiffany lamp decorated the adjoining side table.

At some point, her grandmother had begun using this space less as a room to greet guests and more as a cozy place to relax. She could envision her grandmother sitting in the comfy chair while reading. Belle had taken to curling up there in the evenings and reading her grandmother’s journal before she retired.

The woman she’d met only at her father’s funeral fascinated her. The diary hinted at some big and slightly scandalous parties back in her day. Belle had wondered more than once what her grandmother would say about her unusual relationship with Kell, Eric, and Tate. Oddly enough, she had the sense that Grandma would have understood.

The overhead lights flickered, blinked twice, and died, sending the room into gloom again. Belle sighed. Maybe they weren’t done with Mike after all. She reached over and pulled the chain on the Tiffany lamp. Luckily, it came on, giving her a small circle of light. Belle settled against the back of the cozy chair, deciding the little pool of illumination was actually quite nice.

She opened the journal, flipping to the place where she’d left off last night, and settled in eagerly.

My darling boy, I hear you had a baby girl. Annabelle. Oh, my son. I’m so proud you named her after my dearest Belle. She loved you so. I sent a gift, but I don’t expect you to receive it well. If you send it back to me, I’ll give it to the orphanage. They can always use the money. I wish I could see her, see the smallest piece of myself in her beautiful, tiny face. You won’t allow it, but know that I love that child like I love you, son. Tell her to have the best life she can. Tell her to find love and when she does, you tell her to never let it go. You tell her to fight in a way I didn’t. I let your father go too easily. You tell her she’ll never regret that she fought. She will only mourn if she doesn’t.

Would it please you to know I sold the business? Likely not. I’m too old to control those girls anymore. I’m far past my prime. I’ll just read my cards in the Square from now on. I’ll tell tourists the futures they want to hear, then maybe—just maybe—they’ll create their own self-fulfilling prophecies and make their dreams come true. Sometimes all a person needs is a little faith. I have the greatest faith that someday you will forgive me. Someday I will prove myself and my adoration to you. I love you, my boy. Take care of your baby girl.

Tears sprang to Belle’s eyes. She sniffled, the words in front of her watery but seared into her heart. She flipped the page to read on, to find out why her father had never forgiven his own mother. But that was the last page of the entry. The rest of the pages remained void—like their mother-son rapport.

Why had her father been so angry with Grandma? Belle couldn’t understand why he’d kept her from a loving grandmother. It was so obvious the woman had adored her only son. In earlier entries, she’d written tearfully about sending him away for boarding school. She’d missed her son desperately, but wanted what was best for him. How had her father not seen or believed in that love?

Belle read the entry again, looking for clues. The words seemed to swell off the page and into her consciousness. Fight. Fight for the love she wanted and deserved. Risk her heart. Take a chance.

It scared her. She’d already seen what life looked like when one didn’t. Her grandmother had ended up alone. Her mother, too. Her father…she recalled his occasionally withdrawn moods. Had her family all walked away from love and lived to regret it? Could she break the cycle?

On the other hand, she’d tried so hard as a child to make her mom love her again following her father’s passing and she’d failed. After that, she’d stopped trying at all, refusing to let herself be hurt again.

Was she playing out the same patterns as her ancestors? Sure, she’d listened to Kellan’s terrible past, even empathized with him, but had she fought for him? Really? For all of them to stay and love her?

No. She’d pushed them away to protect her heart, but it was already breaking. And if she didn’t change something now, she feared she’d soon mourn the fact that she had not done absolutely everything she could to keep them.

The light in the room flickered on again. Belle glanced up at the big fixture dangling from the ceiling. It flared and died, a popping sound splitting the air.

She stood. Damn it. Mike had sworn everything was up to current code. He’d smiled and taken her check, and now Belle kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Guess she’d be calling him again in the morning.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the chair, wishing her other problems would be half so easy to fix.

Suddenly, every hair on her body stood up. The air seemed to turn electric. Goose bumps covered her body.

A shadow snagged her attention, and Belle zipped her gaze to the far wall in time to watch a dark mass move across the area. She gulped in a silent breath, her eyes widening as the figure moved toward the window. The whole room seemed to turn cold.

There was no way to deny what her eyes were seeing. That shadow moving across her wall didn’t move like a person. It seemed to float off the ground. It didn’t have defined legs.

It wasn’t of this world.

A cold menace snaked across her skin. All the air in the room was suddenly sucked away. Her lungs ached. Time slowed to a stop as she watched the black mass pause, turn. Was it coming her way?

She felt a cold touch on her shoulder, almost like an icy finger passing through her flesh. She heard a scream. Then the whole world went black.

* * * *

Kellan’s heart threatened to stop when he heard the blood-curdling scream fill the whole space as though the house itself was screaming.

He dropped the file he’d been studying and ran because Belle was in trouble.

“Belle!” Tate yelled for her as he jumped to his feet.

“The parlor.” Eric picked up his cell phone as they all sprinted toward that section of the house. “She always reads in there at this time of night.”

Kellan got to her first. She looked so frail and delicate, her body slumped over in the big chair. He got to his knees, feeling for a pulse. Praying for a pulse. God, what had happened?

“Kellan?” Her lashes fluttered, her eyes opening slowly.

“I’m here, love.”

With a cry, she threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his body as if he was a life preserver in the middle of a raging sea.

“I’m calling 911,” Eric barked.

“Do you see something? Someone? I’ll do a search.” Tate stood tense as he stared down at her.

“Don’t,” she said quickly, sniffling slightly as she shook her head. “Don’t call anyone. They’ll just think I’m crazy.”

“Love, we need to get this on record. Who was in here?” It had been so quiet the last few days, Kell had almost believed that whoever had tried to scare her previously had moved on. He’d hoped that whoever wanted her out had realized that scare tactics wouldn’t work. No. They’d just been waiting, plotting, and escalating. He was going to kill whoever had rattled her with his bare hands.

Belle pulled back, trying to stand on shaky feet. “No one. I mean no one alive.”

Had she been drinking? “What?”

She scanned the room fearfully, as though trying to find something no longer there. “It was here. A big shadow… I-it was shaped like a man mostly, but I felt its evil. God, Kellan. The room got so cold. I felt him touch me and it nearly made me sick.”

His heart was still thundering in his chest, but he frowned. Was she implying that she’d seen a ghost? He wondered what exactly her grandmother had been writing about in that journal of hers because it was making Belle’s imagination run wild.

“I’m sure you just fell asleep and had another bad dream.”

Her eyes narrowed into a stubborn glare. “I did not fall asleep.” She frowned, swallowing. “I didn’t want to believe it myself, but I think this house is haunted and by more than one entity.”

Yeah, what the hell did he do with that? “Okay, maybe we should have you talk to someone. You’re under a lot of stress.”

Tate cleared his throat and suddenly looked sheepish. “I might need to talk to someone, too.”

Belle turned, gasping as she reached for Tate’s hand. “You’ve seen something?”

Kellan frowned at Tate. What the hell was he up to? “Are you serious?”

Tate flushed slightly, his big shoulders shrugging in a self-conscious gesture. “Maybe. Look, there are some weird things going on in this place.”

Eric pocketed his cell again. “It’s a historic house, man. You’ve never lived in a really old place like this. There’s always settling, and the electricity is obviously still faulty. There’s a logical explanation.”

“Okay, explain why the dog barks at shit that’s not there,” Tate shot back.

It took everything Kellan had not to roll his eyes. “Uhm, because he’s a dog and not a very smart one.”

Seemingly of its own accord, Kell’s head jerked slightly to the right. Damn it. He was going to have to get that checked out. He seemed to have developed a tic in his neck that caused him to jerk occasionally.

Belle stood by Tate, obviously picking her side of the fence. “Sir is not stupid.”

Oh, she was going to change that dog’s name if it was the last thing he did. “Love, he’s out chasing a cat across the courtyard. He’s not exactly a Rhodes Scholar.”

Eric crossed his arms over his chest. “It is a little creepy how he acts sometimes. I caught him growling at a closet the other day. Like really growling. He was ready to attack.”

“A lot of people believe animals see things we can’t,” Belle argued. “That animals have extra or heightened senses.”

“And some people think Santa Claus is real. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s not.” His head jerked again. Damn it. Maybe there was something neurologically wrong with him.

“Are you okay?” Belle’s eyes softened with concern.

“It’s a just a tic, love. Sometimes I get them when I’m stressed.” Though usually it was in his left eyelid. He’d never had his neck jerk like someone had slapped him upside the head.

Tate held up a hand. “Look, all I know is there are creepy parts of this house.”

Kell glared. Tate was supposed to be the logical one. “What does science tell you, man? I really thought you would be on my side. You were raised by scientists.”

“Yeah, uhm, what science tells us above all else is that we don’t know everything. The Greeks explained thunderstorms as Zeus getting pissed off and throwing lightning bolts around. How do we know that the ghost thing isn’t a way of explaining something we don’t understand yet? A truly good scientist leaves room for possibilities.”

“Do you really think that Belle saw a ghost?” Eric asked, shaking his head. “Because that seems farfetched.”

“To you, sure. But an iPod would look like magic to someone who lived a hundred years ago. I’m just saying there are more things in heaven and earth than are obviously a part of the grand philosophy of Kellan. Forty-eight percent of all Americans believe in ghosts. And this particular one seems to like to pat my ass,” Tate said with a sigh. “It’s happened more than once.”

“What?” Belle’s eyes widened.

“Dude, come on.” Kell frowned. Was Tate trying to get in good with Belle or had he just lost his mind?

Even in the dim light of the room, he could see Tate’s face flush a bright shade of red. “I started feeling it a couple of days ago. A cold spot drifts around me. I don’t feel…alone anymore. Then something pats me on the butt. I don’t know how else to say it. I also think I saw the shower curtain moving on its own today. Baby, did you sneak in and write nice ass on the bathroom mirror this morning?”

“No,” Belle assured. But she looked alarmed.

Eric held up his hands. “Dude, I try to not look at your ass even though you walk around with it hanging free most of the time.”

They all turned to stare at Kell, and he rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly believe I would come up with a practical joke like that? I have no sense of humor.”

It was a sad fact of life. He’d lost his sense of humor when he’d lost everything else. Though the idea of some perverted ghost having a fixation on Tate’s butt was kind of funny.

Eric mumbled something completely incoherent.

“What did you say?” Belle asked.

Eric seemed to find his feet very interesting. “I’m saying something keeps patting my butt, too. It’s weird. And sometimes I think I hear a voice saying I’m a good one. I don’t know what that means.”

Belle’s eyes lit up and she raced across the room to pick up her grandmother’s journal. “That’s what my grandma used to say about the men she liked.” She flipped through the pages. “Look here. She says her friend, Harrison, was a good one. One of the good ones. My grandma is here.”

“And she wants to pat their butts?” he asked incredulously. “Belle, really?” Maybe he should call in a shrink.

“I know it sounds crazy, but there is something happening in this house and I’m going to figure it out. I need a computer.” She looked up at Tate. “Would you help me do a little research?”

The faintest hint of a smile lit his lips, the first bit of happiness he’d seen out of Tate for days. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

They walked out, hand in hand. Belle might have scared the shit out of him, but at least she and Tate seemed to have put aside their problems. That alone might make the whole near heart attack worthwhile. Although if she got truly close to Tate and Eric again, where would that leave him?

“You okay?” Eric asked.

“I’m fine. I’m a little worried about her. I think the pressure must be getting to her. It’s the only way to explain this sudden belief in ghosts.”

Eric’s brows rose. “I don’t think it’s sudden. Have you ever seen all the shows she tapes? Mostly it’s shows where people buy houses and then like wreck them and shit, but she also likes shows where people hunt for ghosts. But that’s not what I’m talking about. What are you doing, man?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to help Belle.” What was Eric’s problem?

“Belle’s fine. You’re the one with the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Belle’s surrender is inevitable. She won’t hold out on us forever.”

He hadn’t really thought about it. The truth was he’d been happy the last couple of days. Well, he’d been happy at night when they took her and he could be close to her. There had been a deep sense of loss every time the sex ended and he left her bedroom, but he couldn’t do much about that. Sleeping next to her seemed even more intimate than fucking her, so staying the night cuddled up beside her would be implying a promise he couldn’t make.

And now he realized just how little time he had left with her…maybe with all of them. “Do you think her belief that the house is haunted will send her back to Chicago with us?”

If she came back, Kellan had no doubt she would move right into Eric and Tate’s house. What would he do then? Show up for sex? He couldn’t see that working for long. And the night she finally shut the door in his face would fucking hurt.

“Hell, no. I don’t think anything will induce Belle to leave this house. I’ve been thinking… Next week, I’ll be applying for my license to practice law in Louisiana. I’ll take the state bar exam as soon as possible.”

Kellan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Are you serious? What about Tate? Have you told him?”

“No. I just decided today.”

“Tate won’t leave Chicago,” Kell pointed out.

“He fears change and always has. Do you know the anxiety he went through when I bought a different brand of toilet paper? But there’s only one thing he fears more and that’s losing Belle. She’s going to soften and let us into her lives. Once she does, he’s going to give in. It’s inevitable. She’s the one. At least, she’s the one for us.”

“Oh my god,” Belle stuck her head back through the door looking more animated than she had in days. There was an excited light to her eyes. “I saw a shadow person tonight. Tate just found all this information. It’s so cool. Apparently when really bad things happen in a space, sometimes energy lingers and forms this creepy paranormal entity that appears as a black mass. It can sometimes feed off of negative energy in the house or the bad moods of people in it. Isn’t that amazing? I also ordered a ghost hunting kit off the Internet. It gets here tomorrow. In the meantime, I have a dictation tape recorder. I’m going to see if I can capture some EVPs.”

“What?” Kell wondered if she’d suddenly decided to speak a foreign language.

“Electronic voice phenomenon. Even if the human ear can’t detect them, recorders have been capturing compelling sounds and voices for decades.” Tate poked his head in, looking just as excited as Belle.

“Ghost voices?”

“Yeah.” Belle nodded. “It would explain so much around here. I mean, when Gates first brought up the idea that the house might be haunted, I didn’t want to believe it, but…it really makes sense.”

Eric laughed indulgently. “Then I guess we’re going into the ghost hunting business, baby.”

She bit her bottom lip, looking almost apologetic. “Is it wrong that I’m a little excited?”

Eric shrugged. “I’m getting used to having my ass patted.” His face went blank. “Yeah, there it went again.”

“I think that particular ghost is harmless, babe. Come on. You have to see what we found out.” She gave them a brilliant smile and ran back toward the living room.

No doubt about it. She was the one. He just wasn’t good enough for her.

When should he pack up and leave? Tonight? Tomorrow? Maybe she’d grant him one last night.

Eric put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go and try to figure this out. Ghost or no ghost, I think an actual person left the message on Belle’s bedroom wall right after we arrived. I would feel better if we found out who wants her gone from here. Maybe we should research the house and see if we can find out if any of our suspects have hidden attachments to the place.”

“Eric, there’s an app!” Belle yelled.

Kell stared, astounded. Eric’s smile could only be described as joyful. “Man, ghost or not, I’m just happy to see her smile.”

He walked away, joining Tate and Belle.

For a deathly quiet moment, Kellan stared at the place where his friends and his love had been before they’d left him behind.

His time was running out.

His neck jerked again, this time stronger than the last. It felt like someone had just roughly smacked him upside the head. “Goddamn it.”

He really needed to get that looked at.

* * * *

Tate stretched as he closed the laptop and glanced at the clock. It was after two in the morning, but he’d found an enormous amount of information on the house he now lived in—and possibly shared with a bunch of creepy shit and one slightly sexually forward ghost grandma. Was he really thinking about ghosts? And was he really thinking about bringing some psychic in to do a house cleansing? All the sites he’d read had suggested he should, though some of the same sites also told him what to do in case of a Bigfoot attack.

Where was he going to find the psychic equivalent of a Swiffer?

“Hey, why don’t you come to bed?” Belle stood in the doorway. She and Eric and Kellan had gone upstairs an hour before, but he’d stayed behind, his brain running too fast to sleep.

She looked gorgeous standing there with her hair mussed and a sleepy expression on her face. Clearly, she’d been tossed a time or two, and his dick got hard, despite his weariness. It was never tired around Belle.

“I’ll be up in a minute. I just want to make some notes for when I head over to the city records building tomorrow.” He’d discovered some very interesting facts about the house, including several rumors that the girls who committed suicide had actually been killed by their father. The incident had happened back in the fifties, before Belle’s grandmother had bought the place. In fact, after the father of the dead young women had passed on himself, two other people had bought the house. Both had sold it again within a year. Belle’s grandmother had paid far below market value for the house. That explained how she’d managed to afford it. But Tate felt sure he was missing more, something that explained who wanted Belle gone from here now. He needed to delve into city records to see if he could find any clues.

He also needed a little space. He’d gotten close to her again tonight and not in a physical way. Over the last several days, he’d managed to put distance between them. She wanted him in bed. He wanted her, too. He could handle that. He could fuck her every night and do his job in the morning, putting her out of his head until it was time to fuck her again.

When she was safe, he would walk away and sink himself into building the firm. He would keep all of his relationships purely physical. Eric could date, and if the lady felt adventurous, Tate could join them for sex. At least that had been the plan he’d been brewing for days. Hearing her scream tonight, holding her and researching crazy shit with her—yeah, that had screwed with his perfectly good strategy.

She moved in behind him, cupping his shoulders in her gentle hands. “I’m having a hard time sleeping without you. I’ve gotten used to having someone on both sides of me.”

“Well, maybe you can get a body pillow.” He hated the fact that he sounded like a sulking kid, but he hurt inside in a way he hadn’t for a very long time. Maybe when she saw how childish he could be she would kick him to the curb and put him out of his misery. Staying here with her was like living in purgatory.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, laying a kiss on his cheek. “A body pillow wouldn’t be as warm as you. Nor would it be as sweet or funny or perfect. Come upstairs with me. I hate the thought of you down here alone.”

He sighed, unable to stop himself from letting his head roll back until their cheeks brushed. He closed his eyes, damning himself. He was addicted to her. He could keep telling himself he’d walk away, but every time she offered him even the smallest taste of her, he took it greedily with both hands.

“I’m not alone,” he said. “I have Sir. He sleep barks by the way. And I think he’s sleep running. His paws keep twitching.”

Belle laughed and let him go, moving around the desk to see Sir asleep on the couch. “Thanks for letting him stay in here.”

He’d gotten used to the mutt. Another thing he would miss when he was back in Chicago. He was getting used to New Orleans, used to living with her…used to having this little slice of heaven. “No problem.”

Belle scooped up her puppy, who looked at her with sleepy eyes before giving her a lick. “Did I ever tell you about what happened the day my dad died?”

He sat up straight, his whole being focused on her. She so rarely talked about her past that he knew she was about to tell him something important. “No. I know there was a car accident.”

She nodded, stroking Sir as though finding comfort in the action. “Yes. I was just a kid. It was raining that night, but I wanted to go to my friend’s slumber party. I didn’t usually get invited to stuff like that. Kinley did, and she talked this girl into asking me, too. I think her name was Brianna, but I can’t remember. How sad is that? I can’t remember her name. I should remember everything about the night my dad died.”

“You don’t have to, baby. All you have to do is remember he loved you. What happened?” He had an inkling, but she needed to say it.

Her eyes took on a far-off look as though she wasn’t really there with him, but lost in the past. “My mom thought the storm was too bad to drive in. She told me I couldn’t go. She wouldn’t drive me. My dad came home from work early and I cried and threw a temper tantrum and I got my way.”

“Baby, it was not your fault. You were a child.”

She sniffled a little. “He lost control on his way home. He died at roughly eight pm according to the police reports. I was playing with lip gloss and listening to music when he died and do you know how I found out? She came and got me the next morning. She didn’t even tell me that night.”

His heart ached for her. “Maybe she was trying to give you one last night.”

“I wish. She claims she had a lot of things to do concerning the accident and dad’s body. She said she thought it would be best to tell me after I got a good night’s sleep.” Belle shook her head. “That wasn’t it. She shut me out, Tate. She pulled her grief around her and she wouldn’t let me in. She blamed me.”

He couldn’t keep his distance when she looked so miserable. He stood and crossed the empty space between them. “Baby, it wasn’t your fault.”

She sniffled, tears welling in her eyes. “One day I was a kid with two parents who loved me. The next day my mother resented me, and I was alone.” Her voice shook. “Tate, I’m so scared it could happen again.”

He hugged her and sighed, an odd relief filling him. They were finally at the heart of the matter. “You think if Kellan leaves, we’ll resent you.”

She closed her eyes, letting her forehead rest against his. “You guys are so close. You all need one another.”

Belle was also afraid she would lose the little family they’d formed. She was afraid she would be all alone again with no one to blame but herself. Tate wanted to rail at his own idiocy. He’d been so hurt by her rejection—seemingly like every other one he’d been dealt—that he hadn’t thought to look for the real reasons behind Belle’s refusal to let them close.

“Do you know what I’m going to feel if Kellan leaves us? I’m going to feel sorry for him, Belle. I’m going to pity him because here’s the truth: we could have an amazing family and a beautiful life.”

“But—”

“No, let me say this. Eric and I have been talking. If you’d let us, we would be together for as long fate allows. If anything happened to one of us, we’d cling to whoever is left because that’s what family is supposed to do. Mine didn’t. My parents’ version of love and support was to punish me when I didn’t perform perfectly. Eric was only valued athletically. We could be different. We wouldn’t have to do anything the way they did. In fact, we wouldn’t. If you agree, we’ll figure this out. The one thing I do know is that I won’t hate you if Kellan leaves. You didn’t push him out the door. He’s a grown man choosing to let his past hurt him. That’s not your fault.”

Tears splashed on her cheeks, and Tate knew he was making the right decision. Now he just needed to make Belle understand that he wasn’t walking away. Too many people had disappeared from her life. He refused to be another.

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look in his eyes. “If you let me into your life, Annabelle, I will never leave you. I love you. I won’t regret anything except losing you.”

Her eyes closed briefly. “I hope you mean that.”

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear. She hadn’t told him she loved him back. She hadn’t agreed to marry him, but she also hadn’t run away. She stood here with him. As long as she was in his arms, he had a shot and he intended to take it.

Sir lay between them, but he didn’t seem to mind being squished. The puppy simply chose the most important moment of his life to start licking his ankles. “Belle, look at me.”

Her eyes opened and widened before she laughed. “Sir, stop.”

Instead, Sir pranced with a happy bark, then tried to mount his leg. Tate sighed. “I’m pretty sure he licks his own butt, and I may die of some horrible puppy venereal disease. Would any man who didn’t love you to the core of his being allow himself to be molested like this?”

“Definitely not. Will you come to bed with me?”

He would go anywhere to be with her. He would even study for another damn bar exam. “Yes.”

He took her hand and led her up the stairs.