Three Guilty Pleasures

by Nikki Sloane

  She had put on a simple baby blue robe, and when she zeroed in on the vibrator in my hand, her expression heated. “They didn’t say anything about it being against the rules.”

  “Good.” My chest expanded on my deep breath. “Then take off that robe and get on the bed.”

  -19-

  Tara

  It was overcast and windy, and I pulled my leather jacket closed as I made my way across the grassy field. I’d meant to get here before the match started, but time had gotten away from me. I climbed up on the metal bleachers, which were half full of spectators, sat down, and peered out onto the field.

  To my untrained eye, the rugby match looked like chaos. It was a pile of brawny men in mud and grass stained uniforms piling on each other. A weird, oblong football was chucked between them, but unlike American football, it was never passed forward.

  Ten minutes in, I thought I had part of the game figured out. Fifteen minutes in, I was hopelessly lost. Sports were weird.

  What I did understand was the effect Grant had on me. He wore the Lions uniform—all black, with shorts and a fitted athletic shirt stretched across his broad chest. It was like he was composed entirely of thick, powerful muscles.

  My body clenched as I thought about the last time I’d seen him. He’d put my vibrator between my thighs and sucked on my tits until I’d come so hard, it’d taken me more than a minute to catch my breath.

  He was . . . surprising.

  And fucking exciting.

  I’d expected him to be bolt when I’d laid out Silas and Regan’s rules. Instead, he’d taken it in stride. Better, really. The day after he’d come by my place for pizza, he’d sent a text message asking if he’d left a mark on the inside of my thigh.

  I sent him a picture of the hickey.

  His response was I should send it to Silas and Regan. God, how this guy turned me on.

  “Hey, new girl. You want a macaron?” a female voice asked.

  I turned over my shoulder to look at her. She was a cute brunette, maybe a few years older than me. She had on thick, dark-rimmed glasses and held out a Tupperware box. Inside, colorful cookies were stacked in rows.

  They looked great, but I wasn’t in the habit of taking food from strangers. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”

  She didn’t seem offended as she closed the lid and set the box beside her. “The same people come to these matches every week, so we all know each other. But I haven’t met you before. I’m Ruby.” She thrust her hand out for a handshake, which I accepted. “I’m with that one,” she said, gesturing to the field. I followed her long, manicured finger toward the player, and my heart dropped to my toes.

  She was pointing at Grant. He was standing on his own from the pack of his teammates, his hands on his hips, while the officials nearby discussed something. There was no mistaking who she’d singled out.

  I wasn’t exclusive to him, so I had no right to judge. And I’d never asked if he was seeing other people, but now I really wished I had. Because this hurt much more than I expected.

  I hadn’t told him I was coming to his match today, wanting to surprise him. He hadn’t seen me yet. Was there a chance I could slink out of here without him seeing?

  Ruby didn’t notice, or I did a good job of hiding my sinking feeling from my expression, because she kept talking. “Which guy are you here for?”

  How was I supposed to answer? I stared at him as he awaited the call, his face flushed and chest moving rapidly with his hurried breathing. “Uh . . .”

  Then he spotted me, doing a double-take. His expression warmed with pleasant surprise, and he lifted a hand in a wave. I had no choice but to wave back.

  “Oh.” A wicked smile twisted on Ruby’s lips. “Of course. You’re Tara, right? I should have recognized you. Grant definitely has a type.”

  “What?” There was a lot to unpack in her statement, and I wasn’t sure where to focus first. He’d talked about me? And he had a type?

  “Blonde and beautiful? We’ve been friends since college, so I’ve seen all the girls through the years.”

  It came from me without thought. “Friends?”

  Her mouth dropped open as she realized the meaning behind my question. “Yes, just friends. He dated my sister a long time ago, so he’s like my brother.”

  “Oh.” Relief washed through me, loosening the tension in my shoulders.

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” I said.

  She crawled over the bleacher seat and plopped down right beside me without an invitation, and I stifled a laugh. She couldn’t have been more obvious. Ruby was the nosy friend who wanted all the details about the new woman in Grant’s life.

  Whatever the penalty was, it had been sorted out, and the players moved back into their huddle.

  I couldn’t hold the question back. “He mentioned me, huh?”

  She flashed a knowing smile. “Oh, yeah. You’re the first one he’s talked about since Morgan.” My blank expression must have forced her to explain. “His last girlfriend? They lived together for a while, until he kicked her ass to the—”

  Her voice lost its power at the end, as if she realized at the last second she probably shouldn’t have said anything.

  “He kicked her out?”

  She looked embarrassed. “I should probably let him tell the story.”

  We watched the men, their feet churning up the grass as they tried to drive toward the end. Awkwardness hung in the silence between Ruby and me, and it must have been too much for her.

  “It’s not bad,” she said. “Well, I mean, it was bad.” She sighed and pressed her fingertips to the center of her forehead, rubbing the crease there. “She sent a bunch of nudes to their coworkers. I didn’t tell you that.”

  “Wait, their coworkers?”

  “Yeah, Morgan’s the on-air weather person.”

  Nudes. To his coworkers. I couldn’t wrap my head around Morgan’s motivation. “Why?”

  Ruby shrugged. “Because she’s not too smart, or has self-esteem issues, or who the hell knows? That girl was the worst. So high maintenance.”

  She wasn’t subtle as she scanned my clothes, taking in the ripped jeans and combat boots, and she seemed pleased. I looked edgy and comfortable, and anything but high maintenance.

  We spent the first half of the game chatting in between the plays. It was helpful having her there to explain what was going on, and I made sure to keep the conversation focused on her, so she wouldn’t ask what I did for a living.

  She was an attorney, as was her boyfriend. In fact, she’d been the one to help Grant with his US citizenship a few years ago. Ruby had a foul mouth, a direct personality, and rage-baked fabulous macarons. I’d eaten two of them before the break at the half, and it took even less time for me to decide I liked her.

  Throughout the game, Grant would sneak peeks my direction, and each time he did, my pulse skipped. Oh, I was in trouble. I liked him way too much, and it meant several things had to happen.

  I’d have to take him to meet Silas and Regan. And I’d have to tell him about the blindfold club, which was a huge risk. Not just for my audition, or our relationship, but for my friends and coworkers. Unease swelled, and I calmed it by reminding myself there wasn’t a rush. Grant was playing by the rules right now, and maybe even enjoying them.

  It was better if I waited until the audition was done. Then, if he chose to walk away, I’d at least have that.

  Two more weeks of lying to him.

  I scowled and forced myself to not think about it. Hopefully, he’d forgive me.

  When the game ended, he grabbed his gear bag off the bench and bounded straight for Ruby and me. His team had won, but I got the feeling his glowing smile was more about me than anything else.

  “You came,” he said. “That’s awesome.”

  “You’re the first girl who’s done that,” Ruby added. “Besides me.”

  The spectators around us
stood and gathered their things, leaving the stands. I stood as well, leaning close to him. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, patches of mud with bits of grass, and athletic tape around his knees.

  “Hey.” My voice wavered because I had thoughts about ducking under the bleachers and fucking him right then and there, the rules be damned. “I wanted to see you play.”

  His eyes lit up. He liked hearing that. “What did you think?”

  “It’s a lot like dancing, except for the part where it’s completely different.” I smiled. “It was . . . interesting.” Late in the game, he’d ended up at the bottom of a pile and came up with a bloodied lip. “You okay?”

  “This?” He pointed to the scrape on his lip. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He grinned widely, like he enjoyed the pain. Was he a masochist? I could understand. I wasn’t a huge pain slut, but in the right setting and with the right Dominant? I was into that.

  He glanced at Ruby, and his expression turned to concern when he saw the enormous box of macarons. “What’s happened?”

  “Relax,” she scoffed. “Nothing’s wrong. Kyle asked me to move in with him, and I’m testing out his oven. You and your guys get to be my guinea pigs.”

  Over his shoulder, several of his teammates milled about, stealing anxious glances at Ruby. Or more likely, the box of cookies in her hand.

  Grant straightened. “You’re moving in with McAsshole?”

  “Have I mentioned how much he loves that nickname?” she said, her voice flat. “And maybe I’ll move in with him. If his oven sucks, he’s moving in with me.”

  He shifted his bag from one hand to the other and tossed a look at the crowd of guys waiting. “Well, go on, then. Rogers is hoping you brought the lemonade ones again.”

  She did, and I agreed. The lemonade cookies were delicious. She nodded and left us, hurrying toward the players. As soon as she was out of earshot—

  “You don’t like her boyfriend?”

  Grant made a face. “I like him all right. They broke up once, and he was bloody awful to her, but that was a long time ago. He’s good to her now, but I like to give him shit so he knows I haven’t forgotten.”

  That had to be intimidating for her boyfriend. Grant wasn’t a small guy, and after watching his game, I knew firsthand he had no problem being aggressive.

  “What are you doing now?” he asked. “I’ve got to get cleaned up first, but you want to hang out?”

  The invitation was innocent, but his eyes were not, and the muscle in my center clenched. “Actually, I was hoping I could ask for a favor. My sister texted me this morning. She’s in town for a business thing and wants to grab dinner tonight. Wanna come?”

  Surprise filled his face. “You want me to meet your sister?”

  “What I really want is you to save me from my sister, but yeah.” I grasped the sides of my leather jacket I wore over my skimpy top and held them closed. The sun couldn’t be seen through the overcast clouds, but it was setting, and it was growing colder by the minute. “It’s going to be boring. I won’t blame you if you say no.”

  He peered down at me like I was being silly. “Of course I’ll go.”

  I stepped up to him and picked a few blades of grass off his shirt sleeve. It was mostly an excuse to touch him. I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, filling my voice with seduction. “I promise to make it worth it later.”

  He dropped his bag with a thud and slid his hands around my waist, pulling me tight against him. He lowered his mouth to mine, and his kiss was intense. If his lip was bothering him, he didn’t let on.

  Warmth spread from his kiss, lighting up my body and drawing a sigh.

  It was over too soon. As we parted, he whispered in my ear, “Worth it already.”

  -20-

  Grant

  I had four more stops on the El before I’d reach the restaurant when Tara texted me.

  Tara: I’m at the bar. I already need a drink and she’s not even here yet.

  Grant: On my way, be there in 10.

  I pocketed my phone and tightened my grip on the strap hanging from the ceiling as the train wound through a curve. I’d gotten several text messages from Ruby earlier telling me how much she liked Tara. I was still blown away she’d come to my match this afternoon.

  By herself.

  I’d never been able to convince Morgan to come. The closest I could get her to watching rugby was the film Invictus, and only because it had Matt Damon in it.

  Once again, I kicked myself for not seeing the warning signs earlier with her. Thinking with my cock instead of my brain was never a good idea. At least I didn’t have that issue with Tara.

  Well, not completely. We didn’t fuck in the traditional sense, yet there was a ton of heat and sex between us.

  But there was also the lie. I’d been told to stay away from the blindfold club. I couldn’t claim ignorance if I admitted I knew she worked there, and I didn’t know how she’d react when she found out I’d been her customer once. What had she thought about that night? Was I just a faceless john to her, or had there been a connection even then?

  There was a black ledger in a drawer in her apartment that could tell me.

  Curiosity killed the cat, remember?

  I wasn’t going to do that to Tara.

  If Morgan had wanted to post her nudes to Reddit or some porn website, I probably would have been fine with it. The worst of her betrayal was the invasion of our privacy. She hadn’t asked before inviting strangers into the intimate side of our lives. She’d taken that choice away from me, and I still struggled to move past it.

  The restaurant was only a few blocks over from the stop, and I found Tara at the bar like she’d said, a mostly empty drink in front of her. She looked so happy to see me, I couldn’t help but wonder if she thought I wasn’t going to show.

  “Big surprise, Erin’s running late,” she said. “We should get a table now. She promises to be here, like, eventually.”

  We didn’t have to wait long to be seated, and after I’d ordered a drink, Tara folded her arms and leaned on the table, crushing the menu beneath her elbows.

  “Did you get a copy of the piano recording? Francine sent one to me, but—”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  “It sounds great, right?” Her anxiety over her sister’s arrival seemed to be forgotten, because Tara was full of bubbly energy. “How’s your part going?”

  “Fine,” I said quickly.

  She bobbed her head. “Awesome. Elena can fit us in on Monday, the same time as before.”

  “This Monday?” Unease twisted my gut. I wasn’t ready to perform the piece for anyone, let alone her, but pride made it impossible to say that out loud. “With training and my match today, I haven’t had a lot of time to practice.”

  Her energy deflated somewhat. “Oh. Yeah, I know it’s not a lot of time, but the audition is in two weeks.” She forced a carefree smile. “If you don’t think you have time and it’s easier, let’s just do the Coldplay song. It’s not a big deal.”

  There was no way I was letting her down. “No, I’ve got it. I can’t do Monday, though, I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Fredrick.”

  “The repair guy? Is something wrong with your cello?”

  “No.” My voice was tight. “It’s nothing. I wanted some help with my technique.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You’re taking lessons?”

  “Like, one lesson,” I mumbled.

  She looked stunned, and for a moment, she was speechless. Was she even blinking? Her voice was just loud enough to hear over the din from the rest of the tables around us. “You’re taking lessons . . . for me? You didn’t have to do that.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “I want it to be perfect.”

  Her eyes went soft and warm. She was moved. But before she could say anything else, her expression shifted and her shields went up. A woman came to the table and hung her purse on the back of the empty chair beside me.

>   “No, don’t get up,” she said as Tara made a move to stand. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Tara’s older sister wasn’t a hugger, it seemed. The resemblance was clear, but Erin was a brunette, and it was like someone took all of Tara’s features and dialed them up to ‘severe.’ Her nose was sharper, her shoulders wider, her face gaunt. Her blue eyes were dull and shrewd.

  “Hi,” she said, glancing from Tara to me. “Who’s this?”

  “Grant Kruger,” I said, holding out my hand.

  “Erin Vannett.” Her attitude was all-business as she shook my hand aggressively then pulled out her chair and sat. “Did you wait to order?”

  “Yeah,” Tara said, studying her sister critically. “It’s good to see you.” Although her tone and expression said otherwise.

  “I’m glad this worked out.” Erin was barely paying any attention to her sister. Instead, she glanced around the room, looking for the server. “I’m starving. Did you order an appetizer?”

  Our server must have sensed her, because he came over immediately. Tara and I sat in silence as her sister ordered a salad and asked for half of the ingredients on the side and had detailed instructions about how she’d like it prepared.

  A salad.

  Maybe Tara was right, and her sister was a monster.

  When we’d ordered and she relieved the server, Erin focused on her sister, giving a smile so big it felt like a production. “How are you? What’s new? Dad said you’re still doing the sales thing.”

  “Yup.”

  Erin wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “How’s that going?”

  “Fine.” Tara’s gaze connected with mine for a split second, and it looked strangely like she was offering an apology. “How’s work for you?”

  It made sense soon after because Erin spent the next twenty minutes talking about herself. We listened dutifully as she told us all about her job as a project manager and how she was steadily climbing the ranks within the company. It wasn’t until after her salad arrived that she took a breath.

  “So,” she said, pushing her salad around with a fork to ensure it was correct, “Grant. What do you do?”