He was mostly right, except the public venue didn’t matter; it was convenient. She sought one man’s approval and was ready to submit. But more than anything, she wanted to be chosen.
Her chest tightened with jealousy and longing, and the stubborn refusal to admit what she still wanted. What she’d probably always want.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered.
“You’re right,” Dev agreed, surprising her. “Not until you can admit why you’re here. To me. But more importantly, to yourself.”
Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she forced them down. “I’m going home.”
“I’ll have someone walk you to your car.”
“I’m fine on my own.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said evenly. “But you’re still my responsibility.”
She hesitated then nodded once. “I need to go inside and get my keys.”
He gestured toward a side door she’d never noticed. It led into the lounge. She peered through the glass. Fortunately, Rhys wasn’t in sight.
Inside, she kept her eyes front, avoiding the wall of windows looking out on the backyard. The waterfall, the swing, the whole moonlit world he’d opened for her, belonged to a memory.
The thought of him sharing that space with someone else made it hard to breathe and was entirely her fault. But she’d do it again for Natalie.
***
The current slapped lazily against the pilings, making the dock sway beneath his feet. Ribbons of light from the club behind him danced across the ink-black water. Cicadas buzzed loudly enough to drown out the murmur of conversation from the patio. Other sounds carried on the night air—muted music, the steady cadence of scenes unfolding, the unmistakable rhythm of need being met.
All of it was familiar. None of it called to him.
More than one sub had approached him tonight, tentative but hopeful for the chance to play. He’d disappointed each one, politely declining.
He didn’t want a rotation of willing bodies. He wanted one submissive with brown eyes he couldn’t forget and a smile that disarmed him. Who unsettled him, challenged his control, and made the past loosen its hold long enough to imagine a future.
But she hadn’t been real. None of it had.
Rhys braced his forearms on the railing, exhaustion pulling at him like an undertow. Once, this place had offered escape, control, and enough noise to drown out the ghost in his memory. Lately, it only brought her into focus.
He’d meant to join Leland for that drink. But when he reached the patio and saw Dev and Cari curled together on the deep rattan couch, a week out from their wedding, wrapped in certainty and inextinguishable joy, he changed his mind.
Across from them, Alec and Emily snuggled close despite the heat and humidity. The new ring on her left hand caught the torchlight each time she moved. Lips brushing, they whispered, lost to everything but each other.
He’d had that once. Or thought he did. Now, he felt hollow.
A soft splash nearby pulled him back to moonlight, cool mist, the swing over the waterfall, and the breathless sounds Gaby made when she opened for him. He couldn’t forget the look in her eyes—yearning, unguarded, genuine.
Or so he’d thought.
Footsteps on the wooden planks thudded softly behind him.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Emily said, her tone gentle. “You always retreat to the dock when things get too loud.”
He didn’t turn. “You’re stalking me now, love?”
“Someone has to make sure the broody Englishman doesn’t toss himself into the river.”
People often forgot he was American-born. He didn’t correct her.
She moved into his peripheral vision, mirroring his position at the rail.
