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much that I want to know, need to know.
    The cold water is a shock. Gasping for air, I shiver violently even as it soothes my inflamed skin. I have no experience with a spanking like this—well, with any spankings, really—but I suspect I will feel this one every time I sit down for several days to come.
    Slowly my body acclimatizes to the temperature and I kneel—no way am I sitting—more comfortably. Ryan, arms crossed, leans against the vanity while Bradley kneels beside the bath and touches my face with his warm fingers.
    “We need to talk.”
    I want to say “no, shit,” but even though it would be my usual response it doesn’t feel appropriate to the circumstances. I nod instead.
    “I misread your need,” he says sadly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Can you ever forgive me?”
    “You want me to forgive you?” I ask in shock.
    “If I’d been a better Dom, I would have noticed and shown you this life a long time ago.”
    I shake my head, denying his assumptions. “I hid it”—I glance at Ryan, who seems to be grinding his teeth—“really well. I should have said something, but I was…well, I was too embarrassed.”
    “I’m so sorry that I made you feel that you had to hide it.”
    “What about you?” I ask, wanting to curl into his embrace but currently too wet, too cold, and, ironically, too comfortable to do it just yet. “You’ve been hiding your needs, too.” And then, because I’m no longer certain of anything anymore, I add, “Weren’t you?”
    “I was, and I’m sorry for that, too,” Bradley says, obviously willing to carry the weight of blame for every mistake we’ve both made.
    Ryan moves, and I glance over in time to see him roll his eyes.
    “Enough with the apologies,” he says impatiently. “You were both wrong. Build a bridge, get over it.”
    I smile at Ryan’s typical response to touchy-feely emotions. He’s never been comfortable expressing his feelings in a verbal way. Judging by the fact that he owns a BDSM club, I’m starting to realize he has another outlet for his emotions.
    Thankfully, Bradley doesn’t take offense at having our mutual apologizing session cut short.
    “Done,” Bradley says with a wink in my direction. “Now what?”
    “What do you mean?” Ryan asks, very clearly irritated. “The solution is simple. Train your sub, and then the two of you can live happily ever after.” He straightens up, moves away from the sink, and heads out the bathroom door. “See you at the wedding,” he says in a very clear indication that he considers that the end of his involvement.
    Bradley must see the worry in my eyes because he leans forward, presses a kiss to my lips, and whispers that he loves me a moment before getting to his feet and following his brother out the door.
    “Ry,” he calls from the doorway. Judging by the thump of the door closing it would seem that Ryan made it all the way to the outer door before Bradley called him back.
    “What?” I hear Ryan ask in that impatient tone he seems to have developed in the past five minutes.
    “I need your help. I’ve never trained a sub before.”
    My heart nearly stops beating as I wait for Ryan’s response. I’m not sure what Bradley’s plan is, but I’m really glad that he’s refusing to let his brother walk away. After the experiences the three of us have shared in the past hour or so, I’m seeing myself in a whole new light. They’ve been my best friends my entire life. I can’t let either of them walk away. I’m not sure where this is heading—and I can see disaster at the end if things don’t work out—but I think the three of us need to see it through. Something is happening that seems bigger than us all.
    And selfish, horrible woman that I am, I want a chance to keep them both.
     
    * * * *
     
    Ryan tried to deny the need that pounded through him. Melody belonged to his brother. He couldn’t help with her training and stay sane. It was hard enough to walk away right now