I stir the pot, putting the lid back on the sauce, check the oven one more time. Kieran is grabbing plates and silverware, dusting some of it off — no one’s lived here in a little while — and I think dinner’s ready.

It’s nothing fancy, just defrosted frozen steaks and boiled veggies, but at least it’s food, and I’m starving.

“I’m gonna go let Bianca know dinner is in a few,” I tell Kieran.

He just nods, gathering forks. Kieran can be a man of few words, sometimes, but there’s no one I’d rather have by my side in a pinch.

I head down the hallway, turn the corner, and then I’m in front of the door ringed with light.

Just as I’m about to knock, I hear slight splashing.

A sigh. A hitch in Bianca’s breath, and I pause.

That sounds like...

No.

I stop, though. I stand outside the bathroom door and listen to the sounds she’s making, even though they’re echoing and vague, and I hold my breath.

Softly, she gasps. She’s breathing hard, almost like she’s fighting back moans. I’m getting hard just listening, because if anyone knows what a woman on the brink of orgasm sounds like, it’s me.

I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but I can’t help myself. The thought of Bianca in the bath, pleasuring herself, is overpowering. I wonder if she’s using her fingers, or maybe a vibrator. Maybe she’s using the showerhead, though it doesn’t sound like it.

Is she fucking herself, or just rubbing her clit?

What’s she thinking about?

Despite myself, I touch my cock through my pants. The past few days have been jam-packed with planning and travel that I haven’t had a single chance to even jerk off, let alone find a girl.

Not that I’ve done very much of that since meeting Bianca. Somehow, it’s just... less appealing now.

There’s another splash, another gasped moan.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice echoing off the tiles.

God, I’d give anything to know what she’s saying yes to. I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking about, whether she’s thinking about me the way I think about her.

I rest my head gently against the door, listening despite myself to the sounds of Bianca getting herself off. I can tell she’s trying not to make any noise, gasping and moaning. I wonder if she’s biting her lip the way she does sometimes, her perfect red pucker marred by that dot of white.

Then there’s a tiny gasp. A moan cut short, a splash, her breathing ragged and harsh, and I know she’s coming. The thought makes my cock jerk in my pants, and I slide the flat of my hand along myself, one hand on the door, desperately trying to think about anything else but the girl on the other side.

It doesn’t work. I can’t. I can’t have Bianca — at least not here, not now — but I can’t get her out of my mind, either.

I take a deep breath and knock on the door.

There’s a surprised splash on the other side, then a long pause.

“Yes?” her muffled voice says.

I open the door just a crack so she can hear me, and as I do there’s a yelp even though all I can see are her toes, peeping out of the water.

“Don’t panic, I’m not a robot squirrel,” I say. “It’s nearly dinner time.”

“I didn’t think you were a squirrel, I thought you were going to open the door all the way,” she says, her voice languorous and teasing.

“I would never, Princess,” I tease right back. “Unless you asked, obviously.”

Silence. Shit.

“Dinner’s nearly ready,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Dry off and get dressed fast, we’re starving.”

“I’ll be right there,” Bianca says, and I close the door again.

You can’t have her, I tell myself over and over again.

Not here, at least. Not now.

You’ll protect her and that’s all.

* * *

Of all the modern conveniences Kieran’s family’s hunting cabin-slash-mansion has, a dishwasher isn’t one of them. After we eat, we tell Bianca to go to bed — the poor girl isn’t used to anything like this, and I was afraid she’d fall asleep on her plate — and clean up ourselves.

For the first couple minutes, neither of us says anything. It’s not exactly unusual — Kieran’s not a big talker — but this silence feels heavy, almost stifling.

Plus, I know exactly what’s causing it. The beautiful, delicate, virgin princess who’s asleep in her bed right now. The girl that both of us want, but who we can’t possibly share.

“I think we should make a deal,” I finally say, scrubbing off the pan we used in the oven.

Kieran moves the faucet to his side of the sink rinsing off a handful of soaped-up silverware.

“A deal about what?” he asks, his low voice soft.

As if he doesn’t know.

“What do you think, asshole?” I mutter. He may be my best friend, but right now I’m exhausted, frustrated, and trying to get gunk off a baking pan.

Kieran jams the silverware into the holder on the drying rack with a long, loud sigh.

“What’s the deal?” he finally asks.

I rinse the baking pan, glancing quickly toward the hallway where all three bedrooms are. It’s quiet and dark.

“Neither of us gets her,” I say.

Kieran doesn’t answer. Instead he slowly grabs the towel, wiping his hands. A muscle in his jaw twitches slightly, and I ignore it, carefully balancing the baking pan on top of everything else in the dish drying rack.

“You’re just saying that because I saw her first,” he tells me.

I glance at him. Even though he sounds deadly serious, there’s a smile just barely making itself known around his mouth.

“You did not,” I say.

“Sure I did,” he says, tilting his head slightly, still teasing me. “And you only want to make this deal because you’re so afraid I’m going to charm her right off her feet.”

That’s how I know he’s kidding. Kieran gets plenty of women, but it’s not because he’s got charm. He’s the dark and mysterious type, attracts the kind of girl who think she can unravel him.

Also the kind of girl that likes having her hair pulled while he fucks her. The kind of girl that doesn’t mind having her ass smacked, who likes getting a little rough.

“So it’s a deal, then?” I ask, keeping my voice low as I dry my own hands off, pruny from washing dishes. “While we’re here, no one makes a move on the princess.”

I don’t even need to say because she’d never let us both fuck her. That part goes without saying.

Kieran holds out one hand.

“Deal,” he says. “As much as I don’t want it to be.”

“Same,” I say, taking his hand and shaking it.