The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) Nikki Sloane (sight word books TXT) 📖

Don’t let him in.

I worried it was already too late.

FOURTEEN

Two days after Clay returned to his jobsite, E met me at the house, followed me down the basement stairs, and proceeded to carry out the detailed plan Clay had crafted for him. I wore nothing but a pair of open-toed polka dot heels that had an ankle strap, and while E couldn’t say anything, I was fairly certain he liked them.

Once I started wearing my shoes during our sessions, I began to think of them in a new way. My green crocodile pumps had been the riding crop. I’d worn my gray and red plaid heels the first time I’d felt the sweet agony of a cane. Each design became paired with a scene.

I wanted to wear a new set each time, but at this rate, I’d have to go shoe shopping by the end of the month.

What a terrible burden.

I smirked.

Clay noticed my shoes too because he loved details and didn’t miss much.

Clay: Wear your red stilettos with the metal heel tonight.

He meant my ruby suede shoes with a rose gold heel. Last time I’d worn them, E had placed a line of clothes pins on the insides of my thighs. Would I be seeing more of those this evening?

The answer was yes.

And my pattern continued that whenever my pain or my pleasure reached its highest point, the two men would blur and become one. It was my favorite part of the session, the moment where I felt . . .

Complete.

It was two more weeks and six pairs of shoes later when we hit our first snafu. Up until that point, everything had run smoothly—just as Clay had scripted—until the night I’d spent twenty minutes petting Noir while waiting for his phone call.

Had something happened? He was never late. If we said eight o’clock, my phone always buzzed a few minutes before. I could tell he liked to talk to me prior to Mr. E’s arrival.

Worry grew much larger when E didn’t show up. The doorbell never rang, and his hulking figure didn’t appear at the front door.

Was it possible I’d gotten my days mixed up? I began to thumb out a text when finally a FaceTime call popped up on my screen.

“Hey.” I did my best to sound light and casual. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Hi. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.” Gone was Clay’s normal confidence. He looked flustered. “There’s been a change in plans.”

He’d told me, more than once, how much he disliked that, and my stomach flipped over. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. E had a work emergency.”

“Oh. I hope everything’s okay.” It was a force of habit. “What does he do?”

His expression locked down. “I’d prefer not to say.”

I pushed out a breath that may have sounded frustrated, and when Clay’s expression filled with disappointment, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “You can’t expect me not to be curious about him.”

I mean, I’d been fucking him for weeks, although Clay would have probably argued I’d been fucking him for weeks.

His shoulders sagged as he rubbed the crease developing in the center of his forehead. “I know, Lilith, but this is new territory for me, too. He’s with you all the time, and while this arrangement works for now, it’s temporary.” His eyes sharpened, etching over my face. “I just want . . . some distance between you two. In case I haven’t been clear, I’d rather be the one with you.” His voice fell to a hush, as if hesitant to reveal it. “Sometimes I wish I could have you all to myself.”

There was a pang of longing in my heart. It was nice to hear, but was he worried about losing me? I got that he figured the less I knew about E, the better, which would decrease the risk—however unlikely—that I’d fall for the other man. Clay wasn’t just protecting himself, either. He was trying to protect me from being hurt when the time came for E to exit the relationship.

Except . . .

That tiny voice whispered again it was already too late.

I loved what we had—and I didn’t want it to be over.

Clay and I had made a deal. No feelings, no attachments. Was I supposed to tell him that was happening now, when my feelings weren’t only for him?

For the last week, I’d tried to convince myself I wasn’t interested in E beyond sexual attraction. The pull toward this mystery man was just my insatiable desire to know more about him, but I was kidding myself.

When I thought about my future with Clay, I couldn’t picture us without E there too.

Oh, I was in trouble.

In my fear, I stayed silent, and I fought to rationalize it away. Clay shared me physically with E, but not emotionally. So, I spitefully kept my emotions from him.

I slathered on a brave face and a sexy smile. “Well, you’ve got me all to yourself tonight, don’t you?”

His mood lifted. “Yes.”

As usual, he was sprawled out on his hotel bed, and when he drew in a heavy breath, the shift visibly went through him. There was the confident dominant I was familiar with.

“That’s why I was late calling,” he continued. “I had to revise my plan for the evening.”

“Yeah?” I perked up. While I was disappointed E wouldn’t be joining us, I wasn’t unhappy to have some one-on-one time with my partner.

And it was a wildly different experience than anything we’d done before.

While I wasn’t physically tied up during the session, there was still plenty of restraint placed on me. There were the rules Clay doled out in his exacting voice, plus the way I had to control myself. It was so much easier when there was rope or cuffs. Making myself stay still was hard. But making myself stop when I was close to orgasming?

That was a real challenge.

He decreed tonight I was to vocalize everything. He wanted me to be loud and communicative. Clay demanded I show him all my visual cues when I was right on the cusp