The Dare Collection August 2019. Christy McKellen

The woman he cheated on you with?’ Sadie, as far as I know, didn’t cheat. But there are other ways to betray. Other ways to hurt and emasculate. Attacking the very heart of who I am—my family, my business, the father I hero-worship—is a well-aimed weapon.

      Blair’s eyes widen as she slowly shakes her head on the pillow. I press my forehead to hers so her face blurs out of focus and whisper over her lips, ‘It’s okay—you don’t have to tell me. But if you ever want to talk—’

      I hear her deep inhale and then the rush of words. ‘It was a man—his best friend.’

      I freeze, shock pinning me to the mattress, and then feel a stronger compulsion to drag her into my arms and hold her.

      A sheen covers her eyes, holding me in place and locking the air in my lungs—I couldn’t move if the roof started to crumble.

      ‘I came home from work one day and found them on my expensive sofa sucking the face off each other. It wasn’t a first kiss, if you know what I mean, and I’m guessing they’d have gone all the way right there on the Italian leather if I hadn’t come home early. Needless to say, my local charity shop was delighted to receive such a stylish and generous donation the next day.’ Her brave attempt at levity can’t conceal her anguish, which beats at me like physical shock waves spreading out from the centre of an explosion and fuels my own anger until it’s a hot ball in my stomach.

      I cup her face, my thumbs brushing the hair back from her flushed cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Betrayal hurts like fuck, especially from those who are supposed to love us.’ No wonder she’s so determined to make her business—a business she once shared with a man who let her down in the worst way—a success alone. No wonder she hasn’t dated for a year and wants no-strings sex.

      ‘It’s okay.’ She swallows and I want to drag her closer, but I keep still, listening, if that’s what she needs. ‘I should have known. All the signs were there.’

      I stiffen. ‘Your fiancé’s confused sexuality was in no way your fault, you know that, right?’ We’re steering away from casual here, but I can’t seem to stop myself, despite how her confession reminds me of my own misplaced trust years ago. I respect this woman. I like her—she’s funny and independent, an unstoppable force. One who could seriously bulldoze through my life if I were in the market for a relationship and she could take someone older than her seriously for more than just sex.

      My hands flex on her waist, impatient for more contact to dampen the swirl of mixed emotions turning my stomach.

      ‘I know that, but we’d grown more like friends by the end. I told myself it was nice, comfortable, a sign of maturity, given we were only months away from our wedding. I even reasoned the sex would return when we weren’t so swamped with work, not that he ever did what you did to me in the back of the car.’

      She looks away, as if she’s somehow embarrassed by her ex’s shortcomings. I want to break something.

      ‘We spent all day together, so when he wanted to socialise without me I thought nothing of it. But he was obviously struggling with how to tell me while looking for something else. I should have seen that him preferring to spend time with Mark meant they were more than just friends. But most of all I should have expected more than mediocre, demanded more. I’m ashamed that I settled for less.’

      My jaw aches where I’m grinding my teeth. I unclamp it and breathe through the red haze of my anger. Of course, he couldn’t help his feelings, but he should have come clean sooner. ‘How long had it gone on before you caught him?’

      ‘Initially he said a few weeks. But then he broke down and admitted it had been closer to months. He said part of him had always been attracted to men, but he thought he was bisexual and that he loved me. I tried to be mature about it, to support him—I could see it wasn’t an easy thing for him to admit, least of all to me.’

      I swallow hard, more questions springing to mind, but I don’t want to make her relive painful memories, and the roll of my stomach, the way my own demons are clawing to be freed, tells me I’m skating too close to the boundary of casual sex. Even though this conversation borders on too personal for people sharing amazing sex but nothing more, I just can’t seem to help myself from wanting to see inside her to figure out how she works.

      I stare into her eyes, seeing more than a beautiful, smart, driven woman, a woman I’ve never truly looked at closely, and I have the uncharacteristic need to keep digging, keep learning all I can about Blair Cameron until I’ve discovered every fascinating facet of her personality. This realisation raises the hairs on my arms in warning, making me steer things back to safer ground.

      ‘He didn’t deserve you.’ A simple but true statement. Any man who couldn’t appreciate her amazing qualities, qualities glaringly obvious to me, despite the short time I’ve spent with her so far, was not worthy.

      She laughs and my heart lurches into my throat because I’ve put that astounding smile back on her face.

      ‘Well, that’s true. So, what happened to you and Sadie?’ Curiosity and caution war in her eyes. I consider dismissing her question. After all, I wasn’t just betrayed on a personal level. Sadie went after my business, my family business, and almost succeeded—far more humiliating to admit.

      ‘Just the usual,’ I pacify, hypocrisy crawling over my skin like ants. I’ve been inside her, done intimate, personal things with her, and she’s shared her darkest pain. Why is it harder to admit I was taken for a ride by a woman I thought I loved and trusted?

      ‘Okay—you don’t want to talk about it. I understand.’ She withdraws slightly, and I tug her body back to mine. She’s right. Of course she understands on one level, and I’m being a coward where she’s fearless. Fuck, I’m too set in my ways, but if anyone could challenge me it’s Blair, from the glimpses I’ve seen of her determination to date.

      ‘No, I don’t. But only because it’s not very interesting,’ I concede with a sigh. ‘We split three years ago after a short and rocky marriage. She accused me of being a workaholic and putting the business before her, before everything.’ My account is clipped, as devoid of emotion as I can make it, but I can see in her eyes she wants more.

      ‘Did you?’ She seems to hold her breath.

      ‘Yes. Fuck, that sounds bad.’ I rub at my eyebrow. ‘You understand—running your own business isn’t like other jobs. We have responsibilities, salaries to pay, people dependent on us. And the family business—it’s who I am. Who I’ve been raised to be. Who I was when she met me.’

      She nods, her intelligent eyes perceptive and blessedly free of judgement.

      ‘Sadie liked the perks, but wasn’t interested in the business.’ Perhaps that was why she went after everything she could get—bitterness, a sense she’d been short-changed throughout our short marriage. Or perhaps she simply never loved me, only our lifestyle.

      I’m dragged from my unpleasant reverie by the hushed voice of the woman in my arms. ‘It must have been hard for you, the other day, hearing Graham mistake me for her. He was remembering a time when you two were happy together, wasn’t he?’

      ‘Perhaps.’ The reminder of my father, of how his mind is stuck in the past and seems to have no recollection of the way Sadie behaved at the end of our relationship, snaps the door open on everything I want to forget but can’t. I want to enjoy this moment—the aftermath of great sex, the pleasure of taking the time to hold Blair, to string tonight out as long as possible, to get to know her better—but instead I’m dragged back to the wide, gaping chasm of uncertainty in my life.

      She runs her hand through my hair as if she’s drawn to touch me, almost as if comforting me, but we don’t know each other well enough for that. I stare deeper into her eyes, seeking the blissful escape of the pleasure we found in each other, and my cock stirs as if it’s nineteen again. But I’m thirty-five. I have responsibilities. There’s no margin for anything else.

      I press a final kiss to her mouth, rolling