by Sara Brookes
Christ, they’re gorgeous.
The stress and tension that held Boyce’s muscles strained for most of the day had melted away, giving way to an open honesty that had become rarer and rarer these days. Every time Boyce seemed to make progress, something happened, and he stumbled. Saint was always there to catch him. Without fail. Just like he always would be. While he didn’t mind, he wanted Boyce whole again.
Or at least less like the shadow he’d been since returning from the war.
“She’s deep.”
“So are you,” Saint responded quietly, noting the husky tone of Boyce’s voice.
“She’d be a joy to take down fully. Properly.” Boyce glanced up. “You’re wearing that stupid grin you get. The shit-eatin’ one when you know something nobody else does.”
Saint’s grin widened. “Been a while since you’ve talked about taking a sub into subspace. You’ve been leaving it up to me. Not that I’m complaining. I quite enjoy it. But I enjoy watching you putting a sub under more.”
Saint knew he would love watching Boyce purposefully work to put Grae under. If she even agreed to such a thing. If he’d been better educated during college, he may have been able to tell. Looking back now with his experience level what it was, she’d always exhibited shades of submission during daily activities.
During the one night they’d all shared?
Yeah, even then.
But that didn’t mean it had carried on into adulthood.
Though he’d caught the telling downcast of her eyes when he’d beckoned her into the apartment. He’d even observed the way she’d immediately sat down when Boyce had firmly ordered her to. There were still threads of subservience in her. The question was whether or not she celebrated them.
If Grae was the glue that brought Boyce back together fully, made him himself again, Saint was willing to take a back seat. Anything for Boyce. Anything at all.
Saint carefully lifted Grae’s legs, sliding closer to the pair and fitting against them like a puzzle piece. As he settled into place next to Boyce, Grae groaned quietly. Saint set a gentle hand on her stomach, waiting until her breathing had settled into a pattern again. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah. It is. I want her, but she’s not ours. Probably doesn’t even realize she’s under.”
“Probably not. Nothing wrong with enjoying the moment.” Saint slipped his hand behind Boyce’s neck. Boyce didn’t resist when Saint pulled closer and tucked Boyce’s head against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Boyce said, carefully and quietly. “For losing my shit at the club. For pulling away when you were just trying to help. I know not to, but sometimes...”
“I know, babe. I know.” Saint touched his lips to Boyce’s, tasting the tang of the tequila as he slowly swept his tongue into Boyce’s mouth. As superficial as it sounded, Saint wanted a piece of their high. With a rush, he realized he wanted to put them in those places as well. Drop into Domspace himself while they basked in their own moments.
He wanted to watch them together. Join. Dance. Mate. He wanted to connect with them. Complete them. No. That had to be the tequila talking. Still...as random as those thoughts sounded, they sounded really good as well.
Damn good.
It was a pipe dream. Grae wasn’t theirs. Undoubtedly she didn’t realize how easily she’d slipped into subspace. Or even knew what subspace was. They’d had their one-night fling in college. And there hadn’t been a lick of power exchange involved.
What it had been was a crazy, stumbling and bumbling dance that made them all seem like virgins. But then when the energy flowing between them had clicked...oh, the magic they had made. It was a perfection he and Boyce hadn’t repeated since. Even with all the partners they’d shared, there had only been the one time with Grae.
And now they had a chance to find it again.
If they could just convince her that what they’d shared years ago was far from over.
Chapter Four
The throbbing resonance of a drum-laden song was the first thing Grae heard when she stepped out of her car. She checked her watch. Late. Nothing new, really. Most of the people she dealt with on a daily basis ran on their own schedules. As though they were convinced the world revolved around them.
Her video meeting had run late because the director of the film believed he owned Hollywood. Given how much his last release had pulled in, everyone let him do as he pleased. Money really did rule the world. And since she was going to get a good chunk of it because of the contract she’d negotiated a few years back, she was willing to compromise.
The morning after her visit with the guys had resulted in her waking up on their couch, curled in a ball under a warm, fuzzy chenille blanket. Her head remained cradled in Boyce’s lap, her legs draped across Saint’s thighs. Boyce’s head had been resting against Saint’s shoulder.
They’d made a nice, neat package.
For a few seconds, drifting along in a dreamy state, she’d been convinced she was home. Safe and cosseted. Secure. But startling clarity had come the second she’d realized she was far, far away from her house and the city she’d fallen in love with.
Yes, her career choice meant she could work virtually anywhere in the world. But their lives were here and hers...was not. She’d shelved the sobering fact those miles existed for a reason.
When they’d all been more alert, they’d shared coffee, scones, and more talk about what they’d all been up to. Lively conversation had flowed easily, eroding Grae’s concerns about shoving her way back into their lives.
At least some of them.
If she had any sense about her, she wouldn’t let the door hit her on the ass as she left.
Even though she kept insisting that she needed to get back home, they’d kept insisting she needed to stick around. They’d been so damn charming. Which was how she’d ended up accepting their invitation to join them at a local club to hear a band they’d raved about. Though she was determined tonight would be the last time she’d see them.
They were fine. Their relationship was fine.
And from the sound of things, their sex life was fine as well.
Silly of her to rush halfway across the state. The men had enough problems to face without her butting her way in.
As she crossed the parking lot, she checked her cell phone. Three emails from the director she’d just left, a solicitation from a local computer shop she dealt with, and an ad from Noble House for a special deal on membership prices. No response to the message she sent telling Saint and Boyce she was running late. She hadn’t expected them to be at her beck and call.
The bouncer gave her the once-over before he jerked his chin toward the door. Nice to know she passed the nonthreatening check.
As she stepped inside and her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she noticed an arrangement typical for a bar. Exposed brick and paneled walls added a touch of warmth while overhead pendant lighting illuminated a wide swath of scarred wood. Not a dive, but not the typical swanky bar dotting the city she’d left behind. Everything seemed clean enough. And every bar seat was filled with patrons wearing outfits that ranged from bad boy biker to tedious executive who just walked out of the boardroom.
Most of the tables and booths lining the wall were filled as well, with everyone attentively watching the band on the raised stage in the corner. A clever and skilled lighting technician had used a rigging package that bridged the gap between the performers and the audience so the entire space felt intimate. A spotlight gleamed on the polished cymbal that glinted every time the man behind the drum kit hit his stick against it. As she looked closer, she realized she knew that drummer.
Kochran Duke.
Well now, that was quite the surprise. And explained why Saint and Boyce were here tonight. A sudden thought occurred to her, one that sent a slice of pan
ic racing through her. Did the guys know she was a member of Noble House? No way was she going to offer that information up on a silver platter.
But they hadn’t said anything. So maybe she was in the clear.
The statuesque woman on the center of the stage waved to the crowd. “We want to thank you all for coming out tonight. To show our appreciation, we want to play a little something for you that we just finished polishing.”
A loud cheer erupted as the band broke into song. A slow, haunting ballad about a life that ended too soon.
Grae heard her name shouted from the corner and kept her gaze on the band as she made her way over to the booth. Saint and Boyce waited for her at a table with a scattering of empty beer bottles. They’d been here for a bit, reminding her how she’d gotten tied up and kept them waiting.
Grae winced. “Sorry I’m late. Meeting ran over.” Most of what she said was lost, drowned out by the lead singer. Grae sat back, listening as the singer smoothly transitioned from the slow strains of the memorial song to a fast-paced, animalistic melody about sex between friends. Regardless of the song, it was clear the chick could wail.
Since there was no point in trying to keep up a conversation, she decided to enjoy the show. The band moved from hard grinding beats that could blow eardrums to a slow melodic love song that spoke about pain and heartbreak. Though Grae wasn’t any sort of music aficionado, she had heard plenty of music in her day thanks to the millions of movie scores.
Duality was good.
Really good.
Worldwide good.
Grae was curious as to why they’d chosen to play in some hole-in-the-wall bar no one had ever heard of. Maybe they were just getting started? Though the way they all flowed together spoke of a group who’d been together a long time.
When her gaze finally landed on Kochran, she watched him with keen interest. His focus was deadly. He hit every note, never showboating despite his obvious talent. An hour into the set, sweat sheened his well-muscled arms and dripped from his brown hair. His biceps flexed and bunched as he banged on the drums with unrestrained enthusiasm.
Who needed a gym when you could bang a workout on the drum set?
She joined patrons in a well-deserved round of applause when the band finished their set and announced they’d return in twenty minutes with more tunes. As she turned her focus away from the stage and to the two men sitting with her, she realized both were dressed in jeans tonight. Though Saint’s were the faded, well-lived-in kind, and Boyce’s were such a dark, deep blue they were nearly black. Saint’s typical clothing choices leaned toward the dark while Boyce was usually the one wearing bright and colorful shades. It amazed her how such a subtle change could effortlessly alter their dynamic.
Boyce greeted her with a smile as she faced him. “Did you have trouble finding the place?”
“Meeting ran over.”
Saint shrugged. “As long as you’re here now.”
“I didn’t realize—” She broke off when she recognized what she’d been about to say would incriminate her. Couldn’t very well say she hadn’t known the owner of Noble House played percussion in a band. If she didn’t watch her tongue, she wouldn’t have to worry about Kochran outing her. “That the bar would be this small. Or this packed.”
“Duality always draws a crowd.”
“They are really good.”
Boyce and Saint exchanged a glance. There was a story there with Kochran and the band. At this point, she wasn’t sure what she’d uncover if she prodded them. Probably better to let it go. She’d already learned the value in that. Too many skeletons in that kind of closet. Luckily, the man in question stepped over to their booth.
“Grae Burrows, this is Kochran Duke,” Saint offered as the man approached their table.
If Kochran recognized her name from the membership list at Noble House, it didn’t show in his expression. Instead, he flashed a killer smile and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Grae. Did you enjoy the set?”
Her heart settled into a normal rhythm as her nervousness dissipated. Looked as though she was going to be the only one to out her to Saint and Boyce. If she ever did at all. Which she didn’t plan to do. She’d talked herself right out of that mistake last night.
She put on her best smile. “You guys are fabulous. Really top-notch stuff.”
“Eh, Paddy missed three different cues with her new guitar. Charlene’s vocals were wobbly. Don’t get me started with her fingers fumbling over her bass strings. Jolie decided to take liberties with some notes trying to be fancy with her keyboard. And I dropped an entire section on the back end of the new song.”
Wow. She knew Kochran was a control freak based on chatter on the Noble House message boards, but her compliment had been sincere. He hadn’t sounded mean-spirited. Just an artist unhappy with the bits someone not intimately familiar with the pieces wouldn’t know about. But again, he hadn’t mentioned the fact she was a member of the club, and she wasn’t ready to spill that information to Boyce and Saint just yet, so he won points there. She was familiar with the whole artist mentality because she suffered from it herself on occasion.
“Well, this untrained ear didn’t notice a thing.”
“Kochran is his own worst critic,” Boyce offered.
Kochran sipped from the water bottle he’d carried over. “Says the man who keeps changing out the artwork at my place because he’s not happy with it.”
Boyce muttered something before taking a long draw from his beer.
Something passed in the look between Saint and Kochran. Unspoken words. Questions. Maybe Kochran was wondering how Boyce was handling the breakdown at the club. Or wondering if they knew she was a member.
“Grae was brave enough to live with us in college.” Saint had finally broken the intense staring contest. “We lost touch after graduation, so we’re playing catch-up. We bored her the other night with a movie, so we thought we’d liven things up a bit by bringing her here.”
Kochran’s friendly gaze turned to her. “I hope you enjoy the second set as much, Grae. We should be a little more on point this time. I need to go talk to everyone before we fire up things for the next go. Boyce, you’re not going to skip out on our meeting tomorrow, are you? We have a few things to discuss.” He seemed satisfied with Boyce’s nod. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Kochran sauntered off, and began expertly fielding handshakes and accolades from the crowd. As Grae looked around, the lights brighter now without the band the focus, she recognized a lot of the people here. She’d only seen them on her computer screen, certainly, but many of the people gathered were the more experienced players at Noble House.
She didn’t know what impressed her more, the fact they had come out to support Kochran, or the fact they all seemed so...normal. While she wasn’t a stranger to BDSM, she’d only seen the people in the room in various stages of undress and engaging in power exchanges. Of course, they were normal people too, but the strange sense of surrealism washed through her.
“Grae?”
She jumped when Saint tapped the back of her hand. “Sorry. Long day.”
“Are you sure you want to stick around for the second set?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I don’t have any meetings tomorrow, so I can sleep in.”
Boyce tilted his head and smiled. “Great thing about being your own boss, huh?”
“It has its moments.” She decided not to mention a lot of those moments were filled by watching videos of the men. Way to sound like an addict. “What about you two?”
“Taking a well-deserved break,” Boyce said as he caught her in his extraordinary gaze.
A thread of fear spiked through her, stabbing deep. “Not because of me, I hope. I’m sorry if I disrupted your schedule. I know I should’ve called first before I just popped up on your doorstep. I just...”
/>
Saint grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s a much-needed break for both of us. Planned a month ago. We’re leaving right after Boyce’s meeting with Kochran tomorrow to spend some time at a vineyard Boyce has been wanting to visit.”
A shadow ghosted over Saint’s face. He was worried about Boyce. Not surprising, given the closeness the men shared. The relationship they were involved in. It made perfect sense for them to get away for a bit. She wondered if that meant the breakdown at the club wasn’t that far out of the norm for Boyce. And she had barged right back into their lives when they needed each other the most and didn’t need to worry about any outside influences or problems.
She had a job.
She had a life.
Sure, it wasn’t typical or even all that spectacular, but it was hers.
“Thinking of heading home tomorrow. For real this time.” Goodness knows she needed to put some distance between her and the men or something she would probably regret was going to happen.
Boyce set his bottle down with a loud bang. “We didn’t scare you off, did we?”
“Of course not. I left at a bad time.” Which wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. There was no great time for her to abandon her work, but she’d done it anyway. And felt guilty for every missed email and phone call. Added in with the guilt that made itself known whenever she daydreamed about the life she wanted—craved—and she was a piece of work.
“Grae.”
The commanding way Saint said her name immediately caused her to lower her gaze. So many doubts swirled through her mind. Especially the brash, sudden decision she made to follow her pussy and not her brain. Her sex drive had gotten the better of her, and she’d be thinking with strategic parts that were better off being put on ice. Saint needed to put his focus one hundred percent on Boyce, not deal with her reappearance.
Or her desires dealing with Noble House.
With them.
Together.
Gah.
“I don’t want to be in the way.”
Boyce and Saint both wrapped her hands, squeezing. Oh...so warm. Safe.
