There With You by Samantha Young
Regan
The next morning I woke up and Thane was gone, like always.
And like always, I hated it.
Ignoring the now-constant ache in my heart that was only ever lightened when we were together-together, I got ready for the day as usual. Despite news that Sean McClintock had voluntarily checked himself into rehab, Lachlan had two of his security guys shadowing me and the kids wherever we went. Any gossip that might have arisen from Sean yelling about Eilidh being his daughter was cut off when word got out he was an old acquaintance and a grieving father who’d focused on Eilidh because she was close to his daughter’s age.
As for the thirsty moms (who I now felt guilty about calling thirsty moms), we’d come to an understanding. I think I’d gone up in their estimations, and they’d certainly gone up in mine when they’d rushed to my defense. They were now just Michelle, Ava, Laura, and Heather. We’d never be close, but we exchanged hellos and friendly smiles at the gates now. Will joked it was a Christmas miracle.
Robyn’s twenty-ninth birthday on the upcoming eighth gave us another excuse to have everyone over for dinner without alerting the children to the fact that we were still closing ranks. But I knew Arro and Mac were as worried as we all were and wanted to stay close. Much like Lachlan and Thane, Robyn wasn’t really the birthday-celebration type, so we planned to have the family (plus Eredine, who counted as family) over at ours a week from Wednesday.
That night we’d put the kids to bed, and I was snuggled on the couch, pen and notebook in hand, figuring out what of Robyn’s favorite dishes I wanted to cook next week and thus what ingredients I’d need. Thane was a little farther away on the couch than I’d like, but we’d come to a silent agreement not to get too cozy, even when Eilidh and Lewis were abed, in case one of them woke up and came downstairs.
Tapping my pen in thought, I looked up to find him watching me instead of the TV. I couldn’t quite read his expression, but I liked his eyes on me. “Hey,” I said softly with a smile.
His countenance turned from thoughtful to tender. “Hi.”
I wanted to crawl across the couch into his lap, and Thane must’ve been able to read the desire because he murmured a regretful, “I know.”
Then tell everyone, I wanted to say. Screw them. We’re not doing anything wrong. We’regrown adults. Shit happens. Feelings happen.
It seemed so obvious.
That it wasn’t obvious to Thane was a reminder that whatever I was to him, I wasn’t forever. I knew I was more than just sex to him. There was no doubt in my mind, especially after the past week. But it wasn’t love. Clearly.
Which was devastating, considering I knew with certainty that I would never love anyone the way I loved Thane Adair.
“What is it?” Thane asked, frowning.
Realizing my expression might give me away, I shrugged and smiled breezily. “Nothing. I was just wondering if you have a middle name. I noticed on Lewis’s report card that his is Stuart. After your dad, right?”
“Aye. All the living Adair men have Stuart as a middle name.” He gestured to himself. “Thane Tavin Stuart Adair.”
I smiled genuinely this time because it suited him to a tee to have two middle names. “Very distinguished.”
He gave me a mock reproving look. “Lachlan is Lachlan Lennox Stuart Adair. Brodan Bryce Stuart Adair. Arran Alexander Stuart Adair. And Arrochar is Arrochar Vivien Adair after our mother. She was the only one to escape the dreaded double name.”
“So that’s why Lewis and Eilidh only have one middle name?” I had noted that Eilidh’s middle name was Francine, after her mother.
He nodded. “Do you have a middle name?”
I grinned. “I do. And it’s not an easy one to guess.”
“What is it?”
“I’m named after my great-grandmother. As you know, we Penhaligons are of Cornish stock, and I have a very Cornish middle name.” I actually liked it. “It’s Demelza. Regan Demelza Penhaligon.”
Thane considered me for a moment. “It’s beautiful. And it suits you well.”
It seemed like such a random, silly conversation about middle names, but on the back of the feelings I’d been having before it, I was suddenly claustrophobic. Trapped by a future Thane had already determined we would not have together.
I would never stand at an altar and say, “I, Regan Demelza Penhaligon, take thee, Thane Tavin Stuart Adair, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”
And it hurt like a motherfucker.
Like the angel I was beginning to think she was, Arrochar again demonstrated her perfect timing. Her ring tone on Thane’s phone cut through the air. I’d been seconds away from letting my feelings burst forth before she saved me.
Thane frowned at whatever Arro said down the line. “I don’t think that’s a good idea …” he sighed. “I know they do it every year, but I don’t want them out of my sight.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Arro, wait a second.” Thane heaved another sigh as he muted his cell. “Help me find a diplomatic way to tell my sister no.”
I frowned. “To what?”
“Every year, Eilidh and Lewis spend the first weekend in December at Arro’s. They help her put up the Christmas decorations and watch Christmas movies. They love it because she decorates early. Not as early as Robyn, mind you.” He gently judged.
“Hey, we’re sacrificing Thanksgiving by living here, buddy, and that’s when we traditionally put up the tree. It’s just weird to you strange Highlanders. To Americans, it’s perfectly reasonable.”
Thane’s lips twitched with amusement at my defense of my sister, who had decorated their house last weekend. “Fine. But I still don’t want the kids spending a night away from me.”
Honestly, I didn’t either. “Just tell her no.”
“I’m not being unreasonable?”
“Maybe. But you’re their dad. You’re allowed to be.”
He gave me his “I want to kiss you” look, and I had to bite my lip against a pleased smile. Unmuting the phone, he put it to his ear. “I’m sorry, Arro. I’m just not comfortable with it this year … Uh-uh … Mac? … Well, would he be there all night?” He muted the phone again. “She said she can convince Mac to sleep on the couch.”
I nodded, remembering what I thought I might have witnessed the birthday weekend at her house a few weeks ago, wondering if he’d really be sleeping on the couch. Either way, he’d be there, and the rest was none of my business. But it would be really naughty of the Adair siblings if they were simultaneously screwing around with someone complicated and out of their age bracket. Come to think of it, there was the same number of years between Arro and Mac as between me and Thane. Huh. Okay.
Jesus, Mac had Robyn so young.
“Regan?”
“Hmm?” I blinked out of my wayward thoughts.
“What do you think? About Mac?”
“Uh. Yeah, I think that works.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Thane considered it a moment and then put the phone back to his ear. “All right, then.” He scowled, and I heard her voice rise a little on the other end of the line. “I’m not being sexist … no, it’s not that … If you’d said Robyn was staying with you, I would have agreed to it then too. It’s not about being a man, Arro.”
“It’s about being a badass,” I murmured. Because let’s face it, my sister was a badass.
“Exactly,” Thane agreed with me. “No, I was talking to Regan … Yes, she agrees … Arro, I love you, but I’m tired and I don’t want to argue over semantics. Eilidh and Lewis can stay with you if Mac is there, and I don’t care if that makes me an arsehole. All I care about is feeling comfortable with the idea of my children staying somewhere not under my roof. Mac’s presence makes me comfortable.” His expression softened. “Thank you … yeah … I’ll drop them off … or you can pick them up … Yeah, that’s fine … Good … okay … yeah… love you too.” He hung up and gave me a look. “Sisters.”
I grinned. “You wouldn’t change her for the world.”
Thane grunted, but I knew I was right.
* * *
THANE
Lowering down to his haunches, Thane pulled Eilidh into his arms and brushed wisps of hair back from her face. “You excited to stay with Aunt Arrochar?”
He just wanted to be certain, now that it was happening, that his children really were fine with being out from under his roof for the first time since McClintock’s attack.
Resilient as ever, Eilidh beamed. “We’re going to put the tree up and bake cookies and watch Santy Claus movies andandand and Aunt Arro says we might watch Nightmare of Christmas this year!”
Understanding she meant The Nightmare Before Christmas, Thane looked up at his sister who was joking around with Lewis. He glanced at Mac who watched him in his usual intense way. Mac Galbraith saw everything. Mac shook his head as if to say, “I won’t let them watch it,” but Thane wanted it clear to Arro.
“Arro,” he said, drawing her attention, “they’re not watching that movie.”
His sister practically pouted. “But it’s my favorite, and surely they’re old enough now. Lachlan let me watch it when I was Eilidh’s age.”
“And then had to let you sleep in his bed that night because you had nightmares.”
She frowned. “I don’t remember that.”
“Well, I do. Another five years.”
“Five years.” She shot Mac a look and whatever she saw in his face, she sighed and turned to Thane. “Five years,” she promised in disappointment.
“But I want to watch it, Daddy.” Eilidh frowned and then gave him the monster voice. “Now.”
“No,” he growled back and then pretended to bite her face and neck and tickled her with his beard and kisses until her peals of giggles rang through the house. Best sound in the goddamn world.
Movie forgotten, Thane hugged Lewis and kissed him on the head. “Be good.” Not that his son was anything but. Lew was his wee serious angel and Eilidh his charming wee devil.
“They’ll be fine,” Arro assured him as Mac took the kids into the kitchen to get started on the baking.
“It’s good of Mac to do this. I’ll thank him later.”
“It’s not a hardship for him,” Arro said defensively.
Thane nodded. “I know. He loves the kids.”
She smirked. “Right.”
“Eh?”
“Nothing.” She pulled him into her arms and gave him a squeeze. “Go. Enjoy your free night. Have a whisky with Lachlan or something.”
As Thane got into his car a few seconds later and drove back toward Caelmore, he was agitated but knew leaving the children with Arro was the right thing for them. They had to keep acting normal, or they would think there was still something to be worried about.
A distraction, he mused. He needed a distraction.
And he knew exactly what kind of distraction that was.
For the first time since their affair started, Thane and Regan had the house to themselves. They could be loud. And he planned on giving Regan many, many reasons to be very loud indeed.
Letting his mind wander to the woman in his life, to the frustrations of having to curb his instinct to reach for her throughout the day, to the worries that they had less than two months left before her visa was up, Thane became focused on one thing: making tonight a night she’d never forget.
An almost savage possessiveness gripped him.
“Hey.” Regan turned to him from the dining table when he strode into the house. “I’m just setting the table—” Her next words were swallowed in his kiss.
She tasted of chocolate. Sometimes he saw her sneak a piece before dinner but never in front of Eilidh and Lewis. She wanted to be a good example. Always thinking about them, loving them, protecting them. Him too. And in less than eight weeks, she’d be gone. And he would feel her loss more deeply than he could admit to himself most days.
Throwing the painful inevitability of the future out of his mind, Thane kissed her harder and Regan whimpered, her tongue stroking his in return.
And Thane was lost.
His kiss turned hungry as desperation came over him, and he pressed his body down the length of hers. He gripped her ass, urging her closer, his arousal straining against her belly. His hand slid down the back of her thigh, and he hiked up one leg against his hip so he could be where he needed to be, snugly between her legs.
Fuck, he loved her little dresses, but he hated the goddamn tights she wore with them.
“Thane,” she panted, breaking the kiss. Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered with the sensation of him thrusting against her. Her cheeks were flushed as she moaned and dug her hands into his shoulders. She flexed her hips against his, and his nerve endings caught fire.
He needed inside her. Now.
Knowing how wildly she responded to him when he was rough, Thane stepped back but only to spin her around and bend her over his kitchen table. Lust was a haze across his mind as she cried out. He gripped her nape and pressed her down into the table while his other hand pushed up her dress and ripped at her tights.
She pushed against him as if to get up.
“Stay down,” he panted as he unzipped himself.
Regan trembled beneath him, whimpering. She pushed up again, and he assumed she was arching into him, ready to take him.
Remembering how hotly she reacted to him holding her wrists down in bed, he pressed her back down and shoved his way between her legs.
“No!” she suddenly cried out, pushing forcefully against him. “No!” This time the word broke on a sob.
Her panic was the equivalent of ten buckets of ice over his head and body. Thane released but gently reached for her, her sobs scoring through him. He felt like he had razor blades in his throat as he choked out an anxious, “Mo leannan.”
But Regan shoved at his hands, crying, her face red and streaked with tears.
Thane retreated completely. Regan pushed off the table and ran past him upstairs.
Chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath, pulse racing, Thane tried to figure out what the hell had gone wrong so quickly. He’d been rough with her before—she’d told him she loved it when he lost control. He’d taken her on her hands and knees many times … he’d even held her down.
Thane looked at the table.
Always in bed.
They’d never had sex anywhere but in bed.
Fear churned in his gut.
He’d triggered her.
And someone was going to fucking die if it was for the reason he feared it might be.
* * *
REGAN
Panic clawed at my throat, and I couldn’t catch my breath. The memory had hit like a lightning bolt as soon as Thane pushed me onto the table and told me to stay down. Then the terror was all I felt. It didn’t matter that it was Thane and that I loved him and knew he’d never hurt me. All I could remember was that night in Ho Chi Minh City a year ago. A night I’d buried so deep inside, I’d forgotten about it.
Sobbing in the guest-room bathroom, I couldn’t get a handle on the violent heaving of my chest, and while no more tears fell, I couldn’t catch my breath. The more I panicked about it, the worse it got. Oh my God, I was going to die.
I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die. Tears blurred my vision.
“Regan, breathe.” Suddenly Thane was on his knees before me. “You’re hyperventilating, mo leannan. Cup your hands.”
I heaved for breath, staring at him, unfocused, confused.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Like this. Try to concentrate on breathing slowly into your hands. Look at me.”
Hands shaking, I watched him as he took slow breaths in and out. A calm filtered through the chaos in my head, and I mimicked him. Eventually my breathing calmed, and the terror dissipated.
But the reality remained.
All that I’d buried, deep, deep within … it wasn’t buried anymore. And there was no escaping it because I could tell looking into Thane’s sad, worried eyes that he knew. Exhausted, I crawled toward him and rested my head on his chest.
His arms came around me as he sighed with relief.
He then lifted me off the bathroom floor. Looping my arms around his neck, I let him carry me into the bedroom.
“Okay?” he asked before settling us on it.
Tormented that he felt he had to ask, I sucked back more tears and nodded.
He laid back against the pillows and pulled me into his arms, and I snuggled into his chest. “I’m sorry.” His words were rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I shook my head as I met his eyes. “Don’t. You did nothing differently from what we’ve done before.”
Thane’s eyes narrowed. “It was the table, wasn’t it?”
I flinched as an image hit, my face pressed to the sideboard in that hotel room in Vietnam. Focusing on Thane’s eyes, I admitted, “Yes.”
Distress ravaged his features and he choked out, “Did someone rape you, Regan?”
A tear slipped down my cheek as I curled a fist into his shirt. “Almost.”
Thane’s eyes brightened with sadness, but rage too. “Was it him?”
I nodded, and every time I blinked, another tear fell.