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She cried out, arching beneath me, her nails digging into my back, and there was nothing but this. I braced myself over her, watching her expression as her hips rose to meet mine. It was like it was meant to be. We were in sync from the very beginning, fucking each other with frantic desperation. It was fast. Too fast.

We were so fucking horny for each other it was over too quickly. I felt her come, relished the tight squeeze around my dick as she cried out my name and shuddered and shivered around me. That’s all it took to send me over the edge. I released into the condom in hard, tugging jerks, the pleasure wiping my mind blank.

But that euphoric state lasted only so long before reality crashed over me.

Now that the haze of fucking lust had been satisfied, its curtain lifted.

Leaving room for shame and self-flagellation to enter the room.

When I pulled out of her and saw the hint of blood on the condom, I reached new depths of utter self-loathing. “Cameron,” I whispered hoarsely. “We shouldn’t have … what did we do …”

It was just like Cameron to push up onto her elbows and scoff, “Oh, get over yourself, Forde. I wanted to have sex, and I wanted it to be with someone I was safe with. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” She shoved me off her and stood, pushing her hemline down and pulling up the straps of the dress to cover herself.

And I went along with her casual dismissal because it was easier.

It was easier than dealing with the world of hurt I saw flash in her eyes before she was so quick to hide it.

1. Cameron

Present day

Tierney Silver McRae owned Leth Sholas Guest House, an old Victorian building perched on a hill behind Main Street, overlooking the Sound of Glenvulin. The old lady had been in a state of disrepair for years, and I’d dreamed of being part of the renovation. So, when Tierney, New York hotel heiress, showed up on our small island to buy the place, I introduced myself to her and asked her to consider me when it came to choosing an interior designer.

I’d honestly thought it was a long shot. Even though I had a solid portfolio and had worked all over the west coast of Scotland, mostly on commercial projects such as hotel and restaurant redesigns, I’d thought someone like Tierney would have a world-class interior designer in her back pocket. To my shock and gratitude, she gave me a shot, and she was a dream client who had easily become one of my closest friends.

The bed-and-breakfast was like an amped-up version of my terraced home, a wonderful mix of modern and coastal Victoriana. I was incredibly proud of the design and the building and popped in to see Tierney any chance I got.

Today she was at the guest house with her husband Ramsay, an ex-soldier who’d bought the tiny neighboring island Stòr that was only accessible by road when the tide was out. Ramsay moved here years ago, but it was only now common knowledge among our close circle of friends that he was more than an ex-soldier. He’d never confirmed it, but we were pretty sure he’d worked in British intelligence.

Back then, however, I hadn’t known that. All I’d known was that he’d gone into business with Quinn because he was a talented carpenter, and they were in the pipe band together. I noticed sparks between him and Tierney as soon as they met. It hadn’t been an easy road for them, I think mostly because he was concerned about their age gap. The very tall, very intimidating carpenter had pissed me off a few times at the beginning of their relationship with his mixed signals toward Tierney, but now they were happily married and new parents.

While I’d been home for the birth of baby Maura, I’d missed everything since, including the court case against Halston Cole, the CEO who had taken over the Silver Group, the hotel empire her parents had started. Halston was behind Tierney’s parents’ murder as well as the murder of the journalist they were working with to uncover corporate manslaughter. He’d then attempted to murder Tierney to keep her quiet.

It was a complicated, high-profile case based in New York, and she and Ramsay had to fly there with their newborn child. The trial had lasted just over six weeks, and even London had flown out to testify since her ex had confessed to her he’d tipped off Halston that Tierney was investigating him and suggested Halston was behind her attempted murder. He’d paid a criminal to stab Tierney in broad daylight on Main Street. Thankfully, she survived. But her parents hadn’t survived the sabotaging of their helicopter nor the investigative reporter his attack.

Poor Tierney had to endure that trial during what should have been the happiest time of her life. I’d kept in contact as much as possible and watched the news for updates. To everyone’s relief, Halston Cole was found guilty on multiple counts, including Tierney’s attempted murder. His most severe sentence was for hiring several individuals to kill Gordon and Maura Silver and investigative reporter Ben Rierson. Cole was to serve three life sentences and would not be eligible for parole for forty years.

As soon as I walked into the kitchen, I stopped to study my friend. We’d spoken on video call after the sentencing, and Tierney promised me she finally felt like she could move on with her life. At last, I got to see it for myself. Tierney’s light shone brighter than I’d ever seen it as she baby-talked happily to Maura who sat in her high chair, while her husband, all six four of him, leaned against the kitchen worktop, watching his wife and child with the softest expression I’d ever seen on his handsome but grumpy-arse face.

The sight filled me with longing for something I’d always wanted.

To distract me from that pain, I zoomed right past my best friend and straight to baby Maura.

“Oh my goodness, you’re so beautiful.” I popped my face above Maura’s, and she gave me a bright, gummy smile, her blue eyes dancing as she reached out a chubby hand to grab at my hair. I wasn’t fast enough to stop her, and I winced. “Oof, you’ve got a tight grip. Wonder who she gets that from.” I shot Ramsay a teasing smile as I gently extricated myself from Maura’s grasp.

“You haven’t dyed your hair,” Tierney observed as she pulled me into a tight hug.

She referred to the two strands that framed my face. For a few years now, I’d dyed those strands a bright color that popped against the rest of my honey-blond hair. But trying to keep up with that while traveling from place to place was a pain in the arse, so I’d stopped and let the color wash out entirely. The last shade had been lavender and there was still a hint of it, even after all these months, so I was planning to hit the salon soon to get my hairdresser to give me some lighter highlights and even out the color. I said as much to my friend and then laughed at Ramsay’s expression because he’d completely zoned out at the hair talk.

“Enough about nonsense that doesn’t matter. How are you both?” I stroked Maura’s baby soft cheek, and she blew a raspberry and giggled. “She’s such a happy baby.”

“Aye.” Ramsay caressed his daughter’s head, his hand the entire size of it. “She gets that from her mum, thank fuck.”

Tierney snorted. “And her dad won’t stop cursing around her.”

“I’ll stop cursing around her when she can form a word.”

Chuckling at his hilarious grumpiness even as he stared down at his daughter with utter adoration, that tugging sensation of longing nagged at my breastbone again. “You guys look like you’re doing okay.” Though I noted dark circles under Tierney’s eyes.