The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood, #3)

by Nikki Sloane

I’d probably wasted time looking since the cabinet was really low to the ground, but cats were also liquid and could fit into tight spaces.

My quiet, studious looking neighbor built custom, high-end BDSM furniture.

“And I had plans for you. This,” his gaze swept over my nude form, “is way ahead of my schedule.”

“It’s not art.” “Why not? Because it serves a function?” I smiled wickedly. “Okay. Let’s go downstairs and you can show me.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, mostly to muffle the “fuck” he muttered under his breath, but the action gave him back some of the control he’d lost.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “Being with you wasn’t a mistake. I still feel your kiss, and it’s burning me up inside.”

“Maybe,” he teased, “you’d like me to fuck you with my dick instead of this ice?” I hesitated. Was this a trick question? He gave himself a pump with his fist, then leaned over and spread my pussy open with his thumb and forefinger. It was so he could hold the ice just above my clit and let the water drip onto it. The impact of each freezing drop made me flinch. His tone was dark and victorious. “I’ll do it if you beg me.” Holy fuck.

“I want to watch him fuck you.” There was one final teasing lick and then a half of a chuckle. “Nice try, but she knows what she has to do.” I was sure there wasn’t a more persuasive, seductive taunt in the world when he whispered it to me. “Beg.”

Travis crossed his thick arms over his chest and tilted his head. “What if I did it for her?” His question charged the room with chaotic energy, and I could practically hear Clay’s mind stumble. He’d planned the scene, and this wasn’t part of it, but . . . hearing a dominant beg rather than a submissive? That would be quite the power trip, and he considered it carefully. Would he ever get another opportunity like this? He straightened, sitting back on his heels, and turned his intense stare toward the other man. “Go on, then.”

I’d hung so long right on the precipice I couldn’t take any more. “Please,” I whispered on a broken breath. “Please make me come.” He lifted his mouth and grinned up at me from between my thighs, his lips wet. “So, she does beg.”

Travis’s tone was wicked as he spoke to the other man. “What do you think?” I could hear his corrupt smile. “She asked so nicely.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I have a boyfriend.” He put his hand over his heart, acting like I’d mortally wounded him, and his tone was teasing. “Do you need another?” It just came out of my mouth without thought. “No, I already have two. Three is a bit much, even for me.” He blinked and evaluated if I was joking, and must have decided I was, because he laughed and shrugged.

Rather than be an adult and talk about my feelings like I’d promised Clay I would, I avoided it.

During the last week of September, I came down with a cold, so I had to take a raincheck on my session with the men that evening. Except when I went over to do my nightly check on Noir, Travis showed up with takeout and a movie—under the direction of Clay, he’d said. Our partner in Florida streamed the same movie to his computer as we FaceTimed with him so we could watch it together.

“You’re watching Animal Planet?” His gaze flew to the television where the docuseries about the Georgia Aquarium was currently playing, and . . . was he embarrassed? His tone verged on defensive. “I turned it on for Noir.” If that were true, it was super cute, but Clay was flustered. It told me something else was going on. “Is she interested in it?” I looked around for our black and white cat but didn’t find her. “Where is she?” He stood frozen for a single breath, and then gave up. “Okay, I turned it on for me.” He rolled his shoulders back and met my gaze head-on. “You and Travis have a lot in common. It’s kind of dumb, but I thought maybe I could keep up.” Oh, wow. There were those butterflies again, fluttering in my stomach and making me weak with desire. “It’s not dumb.” No, it was romantic. He wanted to be into what we were into.

Clay put his hands in his pockets, trying to act casual, but then took them out. He looked nervous, and his voice was uneven. “Do you want me to cancel with him? Because I can, it’s just⁠—” “No, it’s fine.” I pressed out a smile that was probably too bright to cover my awkwardness. Plus, it was fine. Better than fine—it was great. It’d be the first time the three of us would go out, and I could pretend it was a date for all of us. “Maybe some other time, you and I could⁠—” “Yes.” My heart skipped at his sure, confident word.

His kiss. Oh, my God, his fucking kiss. It was the kind they wrote love songs about.

“No, I asked you because I wanted us to talk. You’re . . .” He sighed. “Before Lilith, you were my best friend, Travis. And now—after Lilith—you’ve become something more.” His expression was so stunningly beautiful, it was heartbreaking, and Travis froze in place. It was a statement that hadn’t been said out loud before, and its power wasn’t lost on Travis.

Travis eyed the remaining wine glasses. “Which one is yours?” My voice was urgent as I blindly grabbed a glass and took off toward Clay. “Who the hell cares? Let’s go.” Travis’s laugh was deep and warm.

“Mentoring you was a mistake. I wish I’d never done it.” The air in the room went horribly thin. He’d essentially said he wished they’d never become friends, and it was so hurtful, I felt it deep inside. It was worse than any strike of a paddle and more damaging than the tail of a whip. But the hurt and the destruction didn’t show on Travis’s face. It was only his tight shoulders and flexed muscle along his jaw that gave away how he was feeling. “Okay, then.” His voice was bitter like he couldn’t stand the taste of his words. “Let’s correct that.” He got out of his seat and pushed the chair in with a loud thump. “See you around.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go like that. That’s not how I planned it.” He cared more about his design than anything else, and right now I couldn’t care less.

How can I not like a guy who cares so much about the same person I care about?”

Eventually we were going to have to talk though, even if it was a post-divorce custody discussion.

“I’m going to do better,” he said as soon as the kiss ended, “and I have a plan. If you don’t like it, I’ll throw it out, and we can draft a different one.”