Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1)

by Nikki Sloane

  “Green?” His voice was like velvet.

  “Green.”

  He pressed back inside, filling me in one swift move, and I was right back in the big, fucking trouble from before. The connection with him was too great, too powerful to hold back much longer. Things began to blur as pleasure spilled over. Pleasure from listening to his groans of satisfaction and his quiet comment about how unbelievable it felt. Pleasure from the woman in front of me who I was giving this intimate kiss to, going where no other woman had. She’d chosen me for this.

  His hard dick hit exactly where I wanted it to each and every time, and my whole body trembled. It screamed for release.

  “God, Logan, please . . .” I said with every thrust he made. “Please . . . Please . . .”

  “I want us all to do it together.”

  I pulled my mouth away so I could look at her stunning eyes. Was that even possible? She nodded. “Put your fingers in me while you’re fucking me with that mouth.”

  I slipped my middle finger into her wet heat that was unbelievably soft, and my tongue wandered in the area above, coaxing the orgasm closer. It brought my orgasm closer, too. Every plunge of my finger into her was mirrored between my legs. Building, and building . . . threatening an avalanche of bliss.

  My index finger joined in so I filled her with two fingers now, shoving them deep inside and curled them back, searching for the spot guaranteed to send me into a frenzy, hoping it was the same for her.

  “I’m going to come,” she exclaimed, shocked. “I’m coming!”

  “Evie,” Logan cried. Before he’d finished my name, I reached the apex of my orgasm. The explosion inside me, as our mutual orgasm tore through my body, rocked my foundation. He clamped his hands down as he came, clenching my hips tight against him so my insides milked him dry. The orgasm was so intense it forced tears in my eyes, but I blinked them back.

  His sweat-coated arms were tight as a vise around me, holding me to him as his lips trailed a line across my back, up to the edge of my shoulder. Payton sat up, leaned forward, and cradled my face in her hands. Her kiss was gentle and tender, like the desire in her had finally been sated.

  I couldn’t stand any more and a half-second before my legs gave out, he released me and urged me forward to collapse on the bed. I shifted and rolled onto my back, my head landing on his pillow. Did we snuggle as a threesome afterward? He moved to curl up beside me, and we both looked at her, sitting on the edge of the bed, unsure.

  She flashed a sexy, half-smile. Oh, right. Payton didn’t snuggle. She’d kick guys out of her bed if they tried. She loved sex, but feared intimacy with men. She climbed to her feet and began snatching her clothes off the floor, dropping them in a clump at our feet on the bed while she pulled her panties on.

  “I hate to fuck and run,” she said, hooking the bra closed, “but that’s what I’m gonna do.”

  “Payton,” I started.

  “I hope you liked it as much as I did.” She stepped one foot and then the other into her jeans and shimmied them on.

  “I did.” My voice was quiet, but only from exhaustion and not embarrassment.

  Her top was put in place and she came to us, leaning over him to kiss me goodbye. It was quick, light, friendly and not sexual. She straightened and cast her gaze on Logan. “Happy birthday.”

  He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  When she was gone, he turned onto his side and kissed me, one that tasted like love and not sex. It was quiet for a moment, and I began to pull at the thread of worry about what kind of impact this was going to have on . . . well, everything.

  “I can’t wait to see what you get me next year.” He dragged me into his arms and squeezed me, and I put the worry away for later.

  We went to a movie with Logan’s friends on Sunday afternoon, and Payton tagged along. Because we were in a group, the initial awkwardness for me was easy to disguise. Logan, ever the actor, seemed unfazed. When the movie was over and the group migrated several blocks down to a restaurant, she pulled me aside.

  “Hey,” she said, “what we did was amazing. I don’t regret it. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Don’t read anything into it, but that was a one-time thing for me. What you and Logan have . . .” Her eyes glanced at him and then returned to me. “It’s great.”

  “It is great.”

  We’d had a long talk and reached that same conclusion. We’d done it once— an experience we shared together, but I didn’t want to share him again. And Logan had admitted he’d felt pressure to perform, and constant fear I would change my mind and he’d hurt me.

  I’d been right. Nothing could come between Logan and me in the bedroom. There, we were rock solid. I didn’t consider another aspect of our relationship could be a problem, but I was naïve.

  In the Monday afternoon critique, I ended up in the front row, far from Logan. We’d fallen perfectly into the rhythm of compartmentalizing the office from personal. Here, I was Evelyn, a designer on his team in the running to be named the design department branch manager. At his place, I was Evie, his naughty girl who occasionally left her dirty dishes in the sink.

  One more day. Jon would be in the office tomorrow, and it would be announced I had landed the position I desperately wanted. Then I’d be the one leading these meetings. He’d come a long way with his criticisms, but Logan asked my advice the night before. He was grateful to be passing the torch.

  “There’s one more thing,” Logan said, when the final critique was over. “Hess Sports is planning another direct mail campaign. Who wants the project?”

  I think if we could have put our fingers on our noses to signal “Not It,” we would have, to determine the poor soul who was saddled with this client. Hess was picky, ignored deadlines, and had no concept of how design worked. Earlier this year one of the designers had spent weeks on a tri-fold brochure, proof after endless proof, only to have Hess tell us they wanted to change to a postcard, and all of the text on the double-sided brochure needed to fit on a tiny, one-sided card. Oh, and not look like garbage.

  “Someone needs to jump on this grenade,” Logan said.

  People were suddenly fascinated with the tabletop in front of them. I chewed back a groan and swiveled in my seat. “I’ll take it.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Evie.”

  For a moment, no one moved. Then the collective mouth of the design team fell open upon hearing my nickname, the one none of them had heard before, come out of Logan’s mouth.

  “Evelyn,” he corrected, but it was far too late.

  My face heated red despite my every effort to stop it, and each pair of eyes in the room turned to me. I turned as well, facing front and swallowing hard, feeling their gazes boring into my back. I took a deep breath and prayed it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

  “All right, thanks everyone,” he mumbled, snapping shut his MacBook, and fled from the room.

  It took Jamie two seconds to make it over to me. “What was that about?”

  “Hmm?” I pretended to be clueless. Debbie lingered nearby.

  “Logan just called you Evie. Like you two are friends or something.”

  I shrugged and pulled myself to my feet, but Jamie stood in my way. The expression on her face widened with surprise when my denial wasn’t immediate.

  “Oh my god, are you two—?”

  “No,” I said. It came out too quickly. “I heard he has a girlfriend.” Not a lie, since I was so terrible at telling them.

  “Yeah? I hadn’t heard that. What department does she work in?” Jamie asked and Debbie slid closer, giggling.

  I blinked. “What’s that mean?”

  “You know, how he gets around.” The confused expression on my face prompted Jamie to clarify. “He’s slept with half the accounting department, Chloe in PR . . . I think someone else too—”

  “That administrative assistant who was here last year,” Debbie chimed in. “She had that southern name?”

  “Oh!” It w
as like a light bulb went off in Jamie. “Scarlet.”

  My stomach churned. I didn’t want to hear any of this. “No, I hadn’t heard.” Definitely not a lie. I did my best not to look upset when I pushed past them and went to my desk.

  That’s what the text message he sent me said. I responded instantly:

  At four, Logan dropped the project folder for Hess Sports on my desk, hardly uttering a word, and I didn’t acknowledge his presence, but it didn’t matter. The rumor mill was in full force.

  Jamie flitted over to my desk. “There is so something going on with you two,” she said, smug. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

  I wouldn’t have believed her no matter what, but watching her head straight for Debbie’s desk? That girl had no shame.

  chapter

  TWENTY-FOUR

  He’d beaten me to his place, and when I came in, he rose up from the couch. He hadn’t changed out of his suit. It looked like he’d gone straight to the fridge, grabbed a beer and waited for me.

  I gave him a plain look. “Smooth.”

  “Yeah, it sure was,” he responded. “Did anyone say anything about it to you?”

  “Jamie’s convinced there’s something going on between us. Anyone say anything to you?”

  He put the bottle down and trapped my waist in his hands, tipping his head down so he could set his forehead against mine. “No, but I don’t think anyone would. Is it going to be a problem?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t know what we can do about it.”

  “I can’t believe I did that.”

  “It was a simple mistake.”

  He probably expected me to slide my arms across his shoulders and press into him, but instead I remained, neither softening into him nor pushing him away.

  “What’s going on?” His voice was concerned. “Have I done something else?”

  “I don’t know.” No, wait, I did know what he’d done. “Chloe. Scarlet. Half of the accounting department.”

  “What?”

  “Is it true? That that’s the list of women you’ve slept with at the office?”

  He tore his gaze away, guilty. The tension in his hands faded and released me. He slammed a huge sip of his beer. “I’d say that list is inaccurate.”

  All of the breath left my lungs. “Inaccurate how?” Oh, god. “There are more?”

  “No. I haven’t slept with half of the accounting department. Only Rachel.”

  “But Scarlet and Chloe?”

  He sighed. “Yes. Rachel was right after April, during my post-breakup phase.”

  “Phase?”

  “I lost my virginity to April, and I didn’t cheat on her. So, after we broke up . . .”

  He went and fucked a lot of other women, making up for lost time. I followed him into the bedroom and his fingers worked to unbutton his dress shirt.

  “Scarlet asked me out,” he continued, “the day after she gave her two weeks’ notice, and I hooked up with Chloe at Jemma’s New Year’s Eve party.”

  Jemma, the accounts manager, was Jon’s second-in-command and the most outgoing person on the face of the earth. Sweet as could be, that girl could do anything, including inviting the entire office to her NYE bash. I’d already made plans with Blake, otherwise I would have gone too. Maybe I would have ended up kissing Logan that night instead of Blake.

  “Are you upset I slept with a few women you happen to know, long before we got together?”

  “No,” I said. “But you should’ve told me.”

  He hung up his shirt, giving me a view of his hard abs and muscular arms, and it was so unfair that I was annoyed and yet turned on at the sight of him.

  “You’re right. Okay, then, full disclosure. There’s one more person at the office I’ve slept with.”

  My annoyance grew ten-fold. “Who?”

  “You, naughty girl.” He undid his pants and stepped out, his eyes on me. “You forgive me, or do you want to stay like that and have angry sex?”

  Had he actually said he was sorry? “I’m not angry, Logan.” Because, as usual, he was right. It seemed stupid to be mad at him for what he’d done before.

  “Is that a no to the sex?”

  I took my shirt off and made a production of dropping it on the floor. I saw the fire begin in his eyes and the excitement when he understood the game I wanted to play.

  “Hang it up.”

  His commanding tone sent a delicious shiver through me. I yanked my black dress slacks off and held them in outstretched arms. Then I dropped them right on top of my shirt, my lips pulling back in an evil smile.

  “As a rule, I don’t like clothes on the floor.”

  “Too bad,” I said. “Besides, I thought you liked it when I broke your rules.”

  He whirled me into his arms, rough and then tender. “Not as much as you like breaking them.”

  The next morning I had a perma-smile on my face. Logan had a lunch appointment, but after that he’d make the announcement. I’d dressed in the most professional outfit I had – a black tailored business suit that might have been too wintery, but I didn’t care. I’d pulled my hair back to make myself look older, although it was probably a lost cause. Kathleen was going to be upset. She might even make a comment about my age, and even with my hair up, I still looked impossibly young.

  I was at my desk and on my second can of Diet Coke when Jamie made her gossip rounds and hovered.

  “Why are you all dressed up?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, I felt like it.”

  “I hear Logan’s dressed up today too.” She gave me a suspicious look.

  “He’s not dressed up today any more than he usually is.”

  Her eyes lit up with a ‘gotcha.’ “When did you see him? Debbie said he’s been in the conference room with Jon and Will all morning.”

  My mind scrambled for an excuse, but it was too slow. She leaned in. “Did he stay at your place last night, or did you stay at his? I always make Steve stay at mine. His place is gross and I’m not lugging my stuff over there, you know?”

  I had to keep my stupid mouth shut to prevent things from getting any worse. Thankfully, my desk phone rang and it forced Jamie on her way.

  “Hey, Evelyn, this is Rachel from Accounting.” My breath caught. “Were you the one handling Player’s account? There’s a billing issue, and I can’t reach Logan.”

  Now my breathing stopped all together. “What kind of billing issue?”

  “Well, did they order an extra run or something, and pay through us? I’ve got a line item from the printer that’s been paid, but I don’t have a PO for it.”

  My hands were so sweaty I almost dropped the phone. “Uh . . . I know a second run was ordered. I think they paid for it, I know it wasn’t us.” Thank god she couldn’t see my terrible liar face.

  “Oh, okay. It’s been paid, so it’s not really an issue, but it was strange to see a charge for four thousand dollars and not have any paperwork, so I thought I’d check.”

  “Did you say four thousand?”

  “Yeah, I know, weird. You want me to email you a copy so you can take a look?”

  It came through into my inbox, and I stared at it in disbelief. Ninety-six hundred was what he’d told me. So why the fuck did the printer show the second run only cost $3,975? It became difficult to focus on anything other than his closed office door.

  The clock was a goddamn liar. It said only twenty minutes had passed since the email appeared in my inbox, but it was a freaking lifetime before Logan finally pushed open his door and flipped the light on. I snatched up the print copy I’d made and marched to his office. We were already under the microscope, but I couldn’t help it.

  When I shut the door, he scowled and moved to re-open it, probably thinking that this was a bad idea. “Whatever it is, it has to wait until later.”

  “No, it really can’t.” I thrust the paper in his face.

  He scanned it and looked angry. “I don’t know how many times I told th
at billing department not to put it on the summary. How’d you get this?”

  “Rachel called, wanting to know if Player’s had ordered an additional run because she didn’t have a PO.”

  “Is that what you told her?”

  “Basically.”

  Relief washed over his face. “Okay, then, we’re fine. I’ll call her and confirm that’s what happened.” When I continued to stare at him, he looked confused. How could he be so clueless?

  “The amount, Logan.”

  The relief vanished in a heartbeat. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” I repeated. “Can you please explain?”

  He wadded up the printout and tossed it in the trash. But he couldn’t stall forever. “I was able to get the printer to do the job at-cost.”

  “But you—” Rising anger closed my throat.

  “I lied to you. I thought when you heard how much money you were going to have to come up with, you’d back down. But you didn’t. So I was going to let you sweat it for a couple days and then tell you the truth.” The color faded from him like a gradient washing from pale to completely white. “But when I learned how you were planning to get the money . . . then I couldn’t tell you the truth. I didn’t want you to back down.”

  He didn’t want me to have any other option. He’d forced me into that club and onto that table. If I had known it was less than four thousand, I probably could have scraped that money up in between my parents and Payton. I couldn’t look at his lying face another second.

  “Evie, stop,” he said, hushed. “Please. I should have told you, and I tried, but I was so worried I was going to lose you, and then too much time went by . . .”

  Surely he was trying to get me to look at him, but I refused. It wasn’t so much the initial lie that hurt, but the time he continued to let it exist that had me so upset.

  “People in love don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you—”

  “Bullshit. You weren’t protecting me, you were protecting yourself.” I set my gaze on him, finally meeting his eyes. He stood a few feet from me with his hands on his hips, like he wasn’t sure where else to put them, worry streaking his face.