The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3)

by Nikki Sloane

  My phone vibrated with a text message. It was from Travis, sent to our group chat with Clay, and was a photo he must have snapped moments ago of the empty mechanical bull.

  Travis: Do you want to see Lilith ride this?

  “Don’t include him on your peer pressure,” I teased.

  Clay: I’d rather watch her riding something else. Like your dick.

  I lifted my gaze from the screen, pretending to be shocked and scandalized.

  “That’s naughty,” I whispered.

  Travis grinned as he thumbed out his reply.

  Travis: I can make that happen.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Our group chat was active. The week after my date with Travis, private DMs from a married, conservative politician leaked online, and his atrocious and graphic texts to his mistress gave us a lot to talk about. I’d started it off by jokingly asking why I didn’t get horny texts riddled with typos from either of my men.

  Me: It’s like you don’t even care about me.

  That set off a slew of filthy texts, and I wondered if each man were trying to outdo the other. The conversation was scorching, and it was a miracle it didn’t melt my phone.

  As the weeks ticked by, we settled into a comfortable pattern.

  Weeknight sessions were carried out by Travis and usually planned by Clay, but not always. The scenes were more of a partnership than they’d been before, and I suspected the same was true of the planning sessions the men had privately. The weekends when Clay was home, things were flip-flopped. Sometimes Travis watched Clay and me on his phone and other times he’d sit over by the workbench, quietly observing.

  The summer ended and Cassidy returned to school. A junior now in college, she was so busy, we mostly talked through series of sporadic texts. It gave me less opportunity to tell my friend how I was feeling or about the worry that was growing in my stomach.

  Every night I spent with Clay, or Travis, or both of them, felt one step closer to the cliff I knew was coming. It was twice as risky as anything I’d had before. What if one of them fell in love with me? Would they have to exit the relationship, or would the whole thing be over? It was the last thing I wanted.

  Rather than be an adult and talk about my feelings like I’d promised Clay I would, I avoided it. Everything was going so great now. I rationalized my worry away, forcing it to a back corner of my mind by telling myself I’d figure out how to cross that bridge whenever I came to it.

  The three of us talked every day through the group chat.

  It wasn’t always a recap of our scenes. It was filled with all sorts of topics, like Travis’s story about the crazy lady who kept bringing live lobsters to the zoo. She’d bought them from a tank at the market to ‘rescue them’ and said the zoo needed to find a way to care for them.

  There was also Clay’s never-ending quest to find the best pizza in Jacksonville, and my marathon photo viewing session with my folks when they returned from Machu Pichu.

  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. I snuggled under a blanket with Noir on my lap, Travis at my side, and Clay on the screen of my phone.

  It was wonderful. The men seemed just as satisfied hanging out and spending time together with me as they were when we went down into the basement.

  How had this happened?

  I didn’t break under the impact of a crop or paddle when either of my partners wielded one. But this caring, attentive gesture? It threatened to break me completely. I refused to acknowledge how they made me feel. I had no choice but to stave off my emotions. The longer I held them off, the more time I could have with these men who seemed perfectly attuned to what I desired.

  To what I needed.

  The next weekend Clay was home, he sent me a text Saturday morning.

  Clay: I have dinner reservations for us tonight. 6pm, meet at my place.

  I paused. He hadn’t sent the message to the group text—it was just to me. Was this a date? And if so . . . what about Travis? Didn’t we need to tell him?

  It took me forever to pick out what to wear. In the end, I went with a black crossover blouse, a pair of super skinny jeans, and nude pumps. At a quarter to six, I couldn’t wait any longer to see him. I scurried down the stone path to the gate, and then strolled across my driveway, heading for Clay’s front door.

  I rang the doorbell, which was kind of funny since I’d been letting myself into his house for months, but it seemed weird to barge in without warning.

  “Hi,” he said after he pulled the door open and gestured for me to come in.

  He took me in from head to toe and clearly liked what he saw, and it was the same for me. He was dressed nicer than normal, wearing a lightweight sweater and slacks, rather than jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Hi.” I surprised him by dropping a kiss on his cheek, fast enough I could pretend this was merely friendly and not because I was desperate to kiss him. “Am I underdressed?”

  “No, you’re good.” He shut the door behind me, but kept his hand on the doorknob, suddenly distracted with a thought. “I have something for you though.”

  “Yeah?” I followed him deeper into the house.

  “Hold on, let me get it.” He disappeared into his bedroom while I remained in the living room. The television was on, and a bright orange octopus swam across the screen, followed by a woman telling the camera how smart the species was.

  When he reemerged, I gave him a dubious smile. “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.

  He tried to shift my focus away and held out the box he’d retrieved. It was medium-sized, square, and wrapped in silver paper, complete with a matching silver satin bow.

  I mentally noted it was October, and my birthday wasn’t for several more months. “Did you get me a present?”

  He shrugged. “They offered to gift wrap it.”

  I took the box, utterly confused. “What’s this for?”

  “Because you do nice things for me. I wanted to return the favor.”

  Did he mean how I helped out with his house while he was away? “Bringing in your mail is no big deal. I’m happy to do it.”

  He was obviously waiting on me to open it, and I was more than a little curious about what was inside, so I sat on the couch and got to work. The wrapping paper was thick, which should have been my first hint this was more than a polite ‘thank you’ gift.

  I peeled back the paper and my hands stilled when the recognizable logo branded across the top of the box came into view. I said it the same way I’d say, you didn’t. “Clay.”

  He waited like he was on pins and needles. “Open it.”

  I almost didn’t want to. Like our relationship, I feared I’d fall in love with something I wouldn’t be able to keep, but my hands had a mind of their own. I lifted the lid and gasped. The pair of red leopard print heels were gorgeou
s and sexy, complete with black soles and the designer name printed in gold.

  “Do you like them?”

  Of course I liked them. They retailed in the high three figures. “They’re beautiful.” I looked at the printing inside the heel. “And they’re my size.”

  “I’ve taken your shoes off a few times.” His smile was devious. “I guess you were too distracted to notice I looked at the size. Try them on.”

  Was he crazy? “I can’t.”

  His confident look hung awkwardly. “Why not?”

  “Because if I put them on, they might not ever come off and I can’t accept these.”

  He made a noise like I was talking nonsense and sat beside me, plucking one of the shoes out of the box in my lap.

  “Yes, you can, Lilith. I like making you happy, and seeing you wear these will make me happy.” He pulled the stuffing out of the toe of the shoe and unfastened the tiny buckle at the ankle strap. “If it helps, I got a nice bonus from my firm for all the travel I’ve had to do on this project.”

  “Clay,” I repeated in the same tone from before.

  His voice deepened and filled with sex. “Think about how good you’ll look in these and nothing else.”

  Damn him. I didn’t put up a fight as he moved off the couch and down on a knee to take off the pumps I was wearing. I sat as Cinderella while he slipped on the shoe and evaluated how it looked. “Does it fit?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Good.”

  He looked so pleased, and I knew I was doomed. The shoes were too much. Way, way too much and yet I knew I wasn’t going to refuse them. When he had the other one on and fastened around my ankle, he stood and pulled me up with him.

  The sexy heels fit perfectly, and as I looked down at them, I went dizzy with emotions, so I was grateful when his hands closed on my waist to steady me.

  “Will you wear them tonight to dinner?”

  “For our date?”

  He hadn’t expected that response, and his tone was cautious. “Do you want it to be a date?”

  My heart rose in my chest, making it difficult to breathe, but I was tired of pretending my feelings didn’t exist. “Yes,” I admitted. “I know you said you don’t date, but . . . Is that okay? This feels like a date and I’m excited about that.”

  His mouth fell open and he looked like he had no idea what to say.

  In his silence, I shifted my weight on my feet. “We need to tell Travis though. Just so he’s aware.”

  I didn’t understand the mix of emotions that played out on his face. Was he happy about what I’d said? Or terrified? His hands abandoned my waist as he stepped back and adjusted his glasses. “There’s no need to tell him. Travis is meeting us at the restaurant.”

  “Oh.” All the air went out of my lungs. If we were having dinner together, why hadn’t we discussed it in the group chat? My gaze left him and floated over to the lid of the shoebox.

  Okay, well, that made sense. He hadn’t included Travis because Clay wanted to give me this gift in private. It probably would have made the other man uncomfortable, or worse. It might make Travis feel like he needed to make a similar gesture, and I hoped to avoid that. I didn’t want expensive gifts like I was some kind of kept woman.

  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.

  He stared at me, wordlessly saying he wanted what I wanted, and my knees softened when he surged forward. His mouth was on me the same instant his hands were on my body, and it happened so quickly, I gasped.

  His kiss. Oh, my God, his fucking kiss.

  It was the kind they wrote love songs about. The one at the end of a movie when the lovers finally got together. His lips pressed to mine like he would have died if we’d been separated a moment longer, and I sank into him. His kiss was hungry and consuming and powerful.

  I was sure he’d planned to kiss me after giving his gift. It’d probably been designed to happen after I’d thanked him, which I’d gotten sidetracked from and hadn’t actually done yet. But this kiss? No way he’d planned it.

  It felt unleashed. Wild. Passion poured from him like wine spilling from a bottle that’d been knocked over.

  He tilted his head, adjusting the angle to deepen the kiss, and his tongue swept in my mouth. I’d never moaned from a kiss before. It was usually just lips meeting lips, but this was distinctly different. It was a statement.

  A declaration.

  I pictured us in my mind. His arms were cased around my back, and I had fistfuls of his sweater in my hands during the onslaught of his fiery kiss. I was trembling and he was struggling to catch his breath, and if it didn’t end soon, I worried we might collapse under the gravity of it.

  But, thankfully, he slowed and ended the kiss.

  My voice was so hushed, it was barely audible. “What was that?”

  His eyes were hazy as he stared at my mouth. “That was . . . unexpected.” He blinked his fog away and his gaze sharpened. “It was something I’ve been wanting to do all week.”

  His expression shuttered like he’d said too much, and he searched wildly for something to deflect until his gaze landed on the pair of shoes I’d been wearing when I arrived. He scooped them up, put them in the box, and handed it to me.

  “We should get going,” he said. “I don’t want to be late and make Travis worry.”

  “Right.” I hugged the box to my chest, hoping it would cover my rapidly beating heart. I still hadn’t recovered from his kiss and wasn’t sure if I ever would. “Thank you for the shoes,” I said. “I love them.”

  His smile reached into his eyes, lighting up his face. “You’re welcome.”

  The restaurant had a trendy pub feel, full of distressed, warm wood and exposed brick. Travis had been early and was waiting by the host stand when we arrived, and the three of us were seated at a square table in the center of the dining room.

  It felt so fucking good to be here, right in the middle between the two men I cared about, and who demanded all my attention, even when they weren’t around. Was it the same for them as it was for me?

  Did they like this unusual ‘date’ as much as I did?

  I tried to tamp down my excitement. If this evening went well, perhaps I could convince them we should do it again.

  The waitress appeared, wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and a necktie that was tucked into her white waist apron. “Should I get your drink orders started?” She glanced at the place setting and empty chair across from me. “Or are we waiting for a fourth guest?”

  “It’s just the three of us,” Clay said.

  For a moment, I let my fantasies run away with me. Maybe this was how it could be.

  Just the three of us.

  After she’d taken our orders and menus, the waitress moved on, leaving us to stare at each other anxiously. No one was sure who should speak first, but Clay set his arms on the table, leaned forward, and took in a long, preparing breath.

  “My project’s moving into phase three at the end of next week.”

  I tensed, not understanding what that meant, but he’d delivered his statement with such seriousness, it felt like he’d dropped an anvil on us.

  Travis had my same confusion, but also suspicion, because his eyes narrowed. “Which means what?”

  “My part’s over. I’ll be back in Nashville for good next weekend.”

  My happiness at having Clay home full time was short-lived, and immediately trumped
by anxiety. With him home, there’d be no need for a stand-in after next week. Pieces began to fall into place, moving too fast for my heart to keep up.

  The clock hanging over us was suddenly out of time.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I’m not ready. That was the thought blaring through my mind as I sat at the table, stunned.

  “It’s why I wanted to get together tonight.” Clay’s tone was measured, but gentle. “We need to talk about our arrangement, and how it should end.”

  It cut through me as a knife that was so sharp, I couldn’t do anything but sit there and let it slice me in two.

  Travis, however, was still able to speak, and his tone was full of dread. “You want it to end?”

  His gaze slid over to me, needing to confirm if I felt the same, but I was just as stunned as he was by this. Hell, twenty seconds ago, I’d had a head full of what-ifs, dreaming about a future for the three of us.

  Now that I’d caught a glimpse, it was all I wanted. Fuck. How could I choose between these men when I needed them both?

  Clay’s expression was pained. “I was upfront with you about everything. When I asked you to step in, you knew it was temporary.”

  “Yeah, you made that clear,” Travis said, “but shit has changed since then.”

  “Yes, just like I warned you. I told you this could happen.”

  Oh, God. There was an invisible band around my chest, and every word was cinching it tighter. At that moment, the waitress reappeared with a tray of our drinks in hand. She picked up on the tension at the table and chose to silently dole out the cocktails while the two men stared intensely at each other.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she said.

  My voice was a ghost. “No, thank you.”

  She hurried away, which just ratcheted up my anxiety.

  “Did you ask me to come here,” Travis’s tone was equal parts hurt and disbelief, “because you thought it would keep me from making a scene?”

  I flashed back to his story about the night Clay had his partner removed from the club. It made sense he’d be gun shy, but I was also hurt on Travis’s behalf, and upset with how we’d been ambushed.