AN: I apologize now for this as it's not a happy Harry/Ruth story. This picks up after chapter two of 'Bet You Wish You Had Me Back' where Ruth finds out about Harry and Victoria.

For NatesDate who requested this.

"Harry"

She's standing in the door to the en suite, her auburn hair tangled and cascading over her shoulders, the ends stopping just short of her dusky nipples. She's wearing nothing, her pale skin glowing from their afternoon and early evening spent in bed.

"Harry." Her voice is soft as she steps into the room, her feet soundless as she crosses the wooden floor to stand by him. Her hand is gentle as she lifts it to lie on his shoulder. A gentle squeeze of her hand, she settles next to him, her eyes drifting to the phone as she nods at it. "What's wrong."

"It's..." for a second, he wants to tell her that it's over. That his girlfriend has found out about them and he has to return to London post haste to grovel at her feet. Beg her forgiveness and swear on his soul that it will never happen again. But he knows from past experience that it won't be that simple. That days and weeks of arguing don't necessarily mean Ruth will forgive him. Jane never did. "It's my son. Graham. He was in an accident."

"Oh Harry." Hand sliding along the back of his bare shoulder, Victoria leans closer, her breasts pressing into his arm. "I'm sorry." Head falling against his shoulder, she holds him tight, her fingers slowly caressing his bicep. "We'll go back to London. I'll call the airport. Get us on the next flight."

He can feel the softness of her skin. The warmth of her body resting against him. And suddenly he has no desire to return to England. To fight a battle that won't get him anywhere. Hand lifting to brush hers, he grips her fingers and squeezes. "No." Voice breaking, he pauses a moment, clearing his throat before continuing. "No, we can stay. That was Catherine. My daughter." he clarifies at her look of confusion. "He's no longer in danger."

"It doesn't matter." Shifting, she moves until she's facing him, balancing precariously on the edge of the mattress. "You should be there. With him. France can wait."

"He won't see me. Hasn't for over ten years. My showing up will make things worse." His eyes drift to the phone once more before meeting hers. "I just...want to call Catherine back. Check in and let her know I'll call in the morning. Wait for me in the tub."

"Harry..."

"Please Vicki."

Hearing the stress in his voice, she nods, not wanting to push him. "I'll be waiting for you." she whispers, standing. As she crosses to the en suite, she stops to look at him, her heart breaking at the somber looking covering his features as he stares at the phone. "I love you."

She's curled on the sofa, legs tucked under her as the tears run down her cheeks. On the floor in front of her, the phone rests where she dropped it, her heart in pieces.

Harry.

In France.

With another woman.

God, how could she have been so stupid. How could she have trusted him.

It had been her biggest fear, all those months ago. Harry and his wandering eye, his need to find the next best thing. She isn't naive. She knew his history. Had read his personal file, listened to the rumours circling the services. But it hadn't mattered. He'd promised he was different. Had grown up. No longer was he the man who cheated on his partner.

And she had bought his bull shit. Lock, stock, and barrel.

Trusted him.

Only this time, she was the other woman. She was the woman helping him cheat on his partner.

She feels dirty.

Her eyes drift over the burgundy fluff that is her sofa. Remembers them stretched out on it only a few days before. Skin pressed together, his pelvis pressed into hers, his erection buried deep inside her inner warmth as they slowly rocked together. Her leg wrapped over his thigh as she squeezes around him, the fine hairs of his chest rubbing against her breasts, breath hitching as his thumb brushes against her clitoris. Her orgasm slowly overcoming her, pulling him into his. The warmth of his semen filling her.

Her breath catches as she starts crying again, her chest shaking as she pushes herself to her feet. She needs a shower. Needs to wash the memory of his skin from hers.

She's just stepping away from the couch when the phone rings again. For the slightest of seconds she considers ignoring it, but deep inside, she knows she can't. Bending down, she picks it up. Without looking at the caller idea, she presses talk.

"Hello." Her voice is thick with the tears she's cried and she hates Harry a little more, knowing she's going to get called into work.

"Ruth, don't hang up. Please."

His fingers are gripping the phone as it rings. Pick up, he begs in his mind, though he's not sure what he'll say if she does.

Hello.

He can hear the break in her voice as it comes through the phone, his gut twisting as he knows he's done this to her. "Ruth, don't hang up. Please."

He waits for the telltale sign that she's ignored him, that she's turned the phone off, but it never comes. Releasing the breath he'd been holding, he closes his eyes and speaks. "I need to explain."

"No, you don't."

"Ruth, it's not what you think. I swear, it's not what you're thinking."

"What? You're not having a dirty weekend with your girlfriend? Or does it not classify as a dirty weekend because you're together? I'm not sure of the technicalities. I've never been the other woman."

"You're not the other woman..." he stops as he realises he's wrong. "I mean..." clearing his throat, he continues, "you..."

"Just stop Harry. I'm done." He can hear her voice break as she continues. "There's nothing you can say, nothing you can do, that will ever make this right. You've made me feel dirty, made me hate the person I am. I don't like myself very much right now and I hate you."

"Please Ruth, don't do this." His hand is gripping the phone as the tears silently start falling. "We can make us work."

"There is no us." He can hear her pause, hear her take a deep breath before she continues. "We work together. You're my boss, I'm your analyst. That's it." She stops and he knows she's thinking even as she snifs. "Unless you're going to transfer or fire me."

"What? No, never. I ne.."

"Fine. Don't call me again. Not unless it's work related."

He's left starring at the phone again as she hangs up, his heart sinking as he realises they're done.

She's lying in the tub, eyes closed, when she feels him enter the en suite. Lazily, she opens her eyes, watches as he steps to the edge of the tub and watches her. She can't tell what it is that is filling his eyes; the flashes of emotions changing before she can identify them.

"Harry, is everything alright?"

"Fine." He says nothing else as he steps further into the room, his fingers sliding into the waistband of his boxers as he pushes them down. She watches as the material gathers at his feet and he steps free. Her breath catches as his hand grips his flaccid penis, fingers wrapping around it as he starts stroking himself. She can see his breath catch as the skin of his penis brushes the valley of skin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes on hers as he continues stroking until he's hard

"Harry, what are you doing?" She's sat up, her full breasts resting above the water, the bubbling water wrapping around her tightening nipples.

"I want you." His answer is simple as he steps into the tub. "I need you." She watches as he slips to his knees, the coursing water surrounding his erection as he reaches out. She moans as his fingers grip her nipples, pinching them as he rolls them between his fingers. Slowly she reaches out, her hand wrapping around the base of his throbbing erection, their hands brushing as they both stroke him.

"Turn around."

"What?" Confusion fills her as she meets his eyes, seeing nothing but arousal.

"Trust me," he pauses, his hands sliding under her arms to pull her up. As she settles on her knees, he kisses her, his tongue sliding into her mouth to caress hers, slowly relaxing her. Feeling her press against him, he pulls back, his hand sliding along her face as he smiles. "I want to make this unbelievable for you. Turn around, lean over the slopped wall of the tub, and spread your legs slightly."

"But the jets..." she mutters, turning like he requested. As she leans forward, her elbows meet the cool porcelain, the water brushing over her folds in a pleasurable pulse. Before she has a chance to process it, he's between her legs, his pubic hair brushing the soft skin of her buttocks as he thrusts into her. She gasps, her body falling forward as he stretches her.

His hands slid around her, one resting against her flat stomach as the other strokes her clitoris. It's fast, him pounding into her from behind, as his lips suck on the skin of her neck and his thumb presses against her. She can feel his solid length sliding into her, his thighs pressing into hers as he presses into her. The combination of his stroking, his pounding, and the pressure of the jets on her clit has her crying out, her body shaking as her orgasm rocks her. He's not far behind, coming with a loud grunt as he falls into her, pushing her against slope of the tub.

As they lay there gasping, Victoria can feel him twitching inside her, his weight a solid comfort as he lies on her.