The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

And then it burst into unfocused stars as pleasure erupted.

The orgasm wasn’t like yesterday’s. It went on, and on, and on. So long, I wondered if the sensation was ever going to end. As satisfaction gripped my body and mind, it caused me to contract and shudder. I thrashed against my restraints and the hands around my thighs.

I was still recovering when Travis gave a soft laugh of disbelief, but it was the sweetest sound. He loved witnessing how powerful the pleasure was as it washed through my limbs, and then he turned to glance at the other man, as if wanting to confirm what he was seeing was real.

Or perhaps he’d glanced at Clay to acknowledge his part in the scene. They’d worked as a team to bring me to this point, so he wanted to share the credit. The thought only sent me soaring higher. How the hell did I get so lucky to find—and have—both of these men?

Travis straightened to stand upright, wiped a hand over his mouth, and gazed at me with longing in his eyes. It wasn’t sexual desire—it was a different kind of ache, and it made me jittery. I liked the way he looked at me now, but what if it didn’t last?

What if I came to dread it like I always had before?

I pushed the thought away as he walked to the other end of the table and undid the knots at the handle, allowing me to lower my arms. He helped me sit up, intent on untying the ropes around my wrists, but when his hands landed on mine, he paused. He saw the opportunity and wasn’t going to waste it.

He stepped to the edge of the table, cradled my face in his hands, and lowered in. His lips pressed to mine in a kiss that rivaled the one he’d given me last night. He hadn’t asked anyone’s permission, but Clay’s silence allowed it.

If I weren’t already weak, the long, lingering kiss would have made me so. It tasted like gratitude, like he was thanking me for the scene. My brain was foggy and floaty, and enjoyed the simplicity of it. When it ended, I sat dutifully still and let him undo the ropes my other partner had put on me.

Travis hadn’t come. The only time he’d been touched was the hand Clay had set on his chest. Yet he seemed satisfied, and without acknowledging it with words, we all sensed it was late and the evening was coming to an end.

Clay picked up his jeans and shoved a leg into them, surveying us as if he felt like an outsider in his own home. As he dressed, Travis fetched my clothes, and while I put them on, he coiled the rope into a neat figure 8 and set it on the workbench.

It was Clay who helped me down off the table, but once I was on my feet, he didn’t want to let go of me. Seeing him uncertain was strangely reassuring. He was human, capable of making mistakes, and didn’t have every moment of his life figured out.

I didn’t want to add to his confusion but couldn’t help myself. I rose onto my toes and pressed my mouth to his. The kiss wasn’t about possession or ownership. It was meant to show how happy he’d made me, and I was thrilled when he responded in kind. It wasn’t in his design, but his embrace strengthened around me and I sank into our connection.

It was over sooner than I wanted, but Clay broke the kiss as if he just thought of something and it needed to be said right that very moment.

“It’s important we all understand that while this arrangement works for us now,” his voice was serious, “it can change at any time.” He searched for the exact words and weighted them. “It’s temporary.”

I exhaled slowly. Maybe he’d said it to be helpful, to protect Travis from falling for me when I wasn’t built for the long term. But it also felt like he’d reiterated it was temporary as a reminder to himself, and to me to not become too attached.

It served as a warning to us all.

Dr. Lowe’s house was larger than Clay’s and had an inground pool in the backyard. It was the spot we’d chosen to kick off the celebration for Cassidy’s twenty-first birthday, and I sat on the lounger by the deep end, watching the people playing in the pool with mild interest.

The original plan had been a small get-together. Just Cassidy, her boyfriend, and a few of her friends from high school. But there was serious overlap in friends between Cassidy and Dr. Lowe’s son Preston, and since it was his house too, the laid-back barbeque had grown into an all-out pool party.

Preston was an ass, and I wasn’t the least bit surprised he’d decided to co-opt Cassidy’s birthday celebration. When they’d been together, he alway had to be the center of attention, and that hadn’t changed when they’d broken up. She claimed he’d done a lot of growing up over the last year and was getting better about her dating his dad.

But I wasn’t convinced.

I surveyed the people, trying to remember names and who was dating who. I was older than everyone else—except for Greg—but he was smart enough to pretend he was too busy manning the grill to hang out with the folks in his pool who were considerably younger.

Preston, I knew, because I’d met him before. It was also easy to remember his friend Troy’s name. He sat at the edge of the shallow end, his feet dangling in the water, staying right on the cusp of joining in with everyone else.

Two weeks ago, he’d just been a guy trying to make it in the Music City, but last week he’d won an online competition, and now the whole town was buzzing about the pool boy who could