The Space Between Us

The Space Between Us
Megan Hart

Everyone has a story… Tesla Martin is drifting pleasantly through life, slinging lattes at Morningstar Mocha, enjoying the ebb and flow of caffeine-starved customers, devoted to her cadre of regulars. But none of the bottomless-cup crowd compares with Meredith, a charismatic force of nature who can coax intimate tales from even the shyest of Morningstar’s clientele.Caught in Meredith’s sensual, irresistible orbit, inexpressibly flattered by the siren’s intoxicating attention, Tesla shares long-buried chapters of her life, holding nothing back. Nothing Meredith proposes seems impossible—not even sleeping with her husband, Charlie, while she looks on. After all, it’s all in fun, isn't it?In a heartbeat, vulnerable Tesla is swept into a willing and spectacular love triangle. Together, gentle, grounded Charlie and sparkling, maddening Meredith are everything Tesla has ever needed, wanted, or even dreamed of, even if no one else on earth understands.They’re three against the world…. But soon one of the vertices begins pulling away until only two points remain—and the space between them gapes with confusion, with grief, and with possibility…."Megan Hart is easily one of the most talented voices I've encountered…"–The Romance Reader

Also by Megan Hart

ALL FALL DOWN

PRECIOUS AND FRAGILE THINGS

COLLIDE

NAKED

SWITCH

DEEPER

STRANGER

TEMPTED

BROKEN

DIRTY

The Space Between us

Megan Hart

www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)

This book is dedicated first to Superman, who can’t dance worth a damn but who’s always willing to give it a shot.

To my family and friends, of course and as always, because without you I would never have any stories to tell.

To the BootSquad, for reading this and helping me make it better.

To my bestie, Lauren Dane, who sometimes sends me links to horrific porn.

Acknowledgments

Special acknowledgment to Vicki Vantoch, author of The Threesome Handbook: A Practical Guide to SLEEPING WITH THREE, which I found as an invaluable resource while writing The Space Between Us.

As always, I could write without listening to music, but I’m so glad I don’t have to. Below is a partial playlist of what I listened to while writing this book. Please support the artists through legal means.

Can’t Get it Right Today—Joe Purdy

Closer—Joshua Radin

Come Here Boy—Imogene Heap

Early Winter—Gwen Stefani

Ghosts—Christopher Dallman

Glory Box—Portishead

I Think She Knows—Kaki King

Is Your Love Strong Enough—Bryan Ferry

Journey—Jason Manns

Look After You—The Fray

Nicest Thing—Kate Nash

No Ordinary Love—Sade

Reach You—Justin King

She’s Got A Way—Billy Joel

Stiff Kittens—Blaqk Audio

Use Somebody—Kings of Leon

Your Song—Jason Manns

Everyone has a story. Here’s how this one ends.

Charlie’s mouth.

That’s what I want on my body now. His hands and mouth. Tongue, teeth, fingers. I want the crush of him on top of me, the silken brush of his hair against my flesh, the whisper of his lashes as he closes his eyes when he kisses me.

I want Charlie’s mouth, and yet something makes me turn my face when he moves in close. Charlie sighs and presses his forehead to mine. His eyes shut, but I can’t seem to close mine. I have to see him, even this close. Every hair and pore, every scar. Every blemish and flaw that make Charlie so perfect.

“If I’d known,” Charlie says. His hands are heavy, one on my shoulder, the other on my hip. His breath smells of whiskey and smoke. He looks like Charlie, but he doesn’t smell like him.

I don’t want Charlie to wish he’d made a different choice.

Please, Charlie, I think. Please don’t tell me you wish you’d missed all of this.

Charlie sighs. “It’s just … there’s this space between us. This big wide space. And I don’t know what to do with it.”

We fill it, I want to tell him, but say nothing. The words won’t come. If I can’t kiss him, how on earth could I possibly tell him that I love him? That it doesn’t matter where Meredith’s gone or if she’s coming back. All we need is right here. The two of us will find a way to make things work. That it will all be okay.

I could tell him that, I think, as Charlie pulls away. His back is toward me. His shoulders slump. The jutting lines of his shoulder blades urge me to reach and touch, but my fingers curl in on themselves instead. I touch myself because I won’t touch him. I could tell Charlie it will all be okay. It will all work out. But though I can’t say I’ve never told a lie in my life, none of them have been to Charlie. I’m not about to start now.