by Nikki Sloane
“Yeah. He’s working in his studio.” Andre gestured to the hallway. “You should head back there.”
“I don’t want to disturb him. I can wait.”
He gave me a plain look. “Yeah, maybe you can wait, but I can’t. He’s been a mopey asshole. Go straighten him out, please.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling unexpectedly nervous. “I’ll try.”
The music flooding the studio was classic rock. Silas sat at the computer, peering intently at the screen, unaware of me. It gave me a moment to admire. His left hand rested on his thigh, and I traced each section of his patterned tattoo as it disappeared beneath his t-shirt sleeve.
I’d made it halfway to the desk before he noticed me. He didn’t look terribly surprised as he leaned over and shut off the music.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you left me no choice when you wouldn’t return my calls.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m so sorry. But when I told you I needed you, I was serious.” I leaned my weight on one foot and put a hand on my waist. “I’m fucking stupid. I keep thinking I can handle whatever fucked up thing life throws my direction, all by myself, but I can’t. Maybe sometimes I need you to tell me what to do.”
Well, that piqued his interest. His mouth dropped open with surprise.
“And if you want to stay mad at me a little longer, that’s fine. But I’m going to need you to put another tattoo on me right now.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s an excuse to get you to touch me. I’d sit for tattoos until there was no more space left on my body if that’s the only way to get to be with you.”
His eyes narrowed with distrust. “Would you? If I said ‘let’s go’ right now, you’d do it?”
“Yes.” My voice was solid. This wasn’t a bluff.
He stood up so fast, it sent his chair rolling backward. I expected him to go for his bike helmet but he didn’t. His expression was intense. “Get upstairs.”
Chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
It was a command, but I followed it without hesitation or complaint. I hurried up the steps into his tiny apartment, and stood in the center of his living room, waiting. He came up the stairs, his phone in his hand, scrolling. He selected a playlist and set it on the speaker system, but didn’t hit play.
He leaned his hands on the counter, his head down. “You remember what Caroline said to me right as she left?”
“How I hadn’t stolen any of your shit?”
“That she likes you. She doesn’t like anyone, much less a Fed. She’s been beating herself up about what happened, and giving me grief about forgiving you.”
In another life, Caroline and I could be friends. Maybe even in this one.
He pushed off the counter and his gaze worked up my body. “The way I see it, there are two things standing in our way. So I’ve got conditions if this is going to work.”
“Name them.”
“I want to know everything about the part of your life you haven’t told me, including what really happened with the scar.”
It’d be scary, but I could do it for him. “Okay. And the second condition?”
“We’ll get to it. Start talking, Andrea.” He sat on his couch and tipped his head to the spot beside him.
I shook my head. “It’s Regan.”
Confusion splashed on his face. “You said—”
“I know, but . . .” God, it was going to sound so stupid, but I’d been playing this role for fourteen months. “Regan is who I’ve become. I like this version of myself better.” I sat down beside him and my voice softened. “Regan’s still my name, and I love the way you say it.”
His expression was cryptic. “All right. Talk, Regan.”
I told him about applying to the FBI and how excited I’d been when I’d gotten accepted into the Academy. Quantico had been grueling, but I’d survived, and then selected to go to their undercover school.
Like when he’d tattooed me, Silas listened without interrupting. He was engaged, though. When I told him about my assignment in Reno, he’d put his hand on top of mine to calm me. Or perhaps it was to cease my movements. I’d been unaware how badly I’d been fidgeting while talking.
There wasn’t much left to say about the morning in the garage, as I’d told him most of it already, but this time I added the details of how Paul had been crying, and how I’d felt like a failure for not finding the gun he’d hidden. And I admitted how I should have listened to my handler when she told me not to try to take Paul down by myself. I’d repeated the same mistake here in Chicago. I should have listened to Shane.
When I finally finished talking, I rubbed my hands on my thighs and glanced around his apartment. “So, that’s me. Special Agent Adams.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
I gave a tight laugh. It was so weird to have everything out in the open. Weird, but wonderful, too. “Did I pass? Will you tell me the second condition?”
He stood and held out one of his artistic hands. I let him pull me to my feet and lead me toward his bed.
“We both like to be in charge,” he said. “Sometimes it’s really fucking hot, and other times the bed turns into a battlefield. I don’t want to go to war with you.”
I stared at the mattress. “I don’t understand. You want me to submit?”
“No. I . . .” His forehead creased. “I don’t want it to be about control for either of us. The night you got your migraine, when we were in your bed? I want that. You know what I mean?”
My pulse quickened. “Yes.”
His fingertips glided over my cheekbone, sweeping down to capture my chin and tilt it into his sweet, short kiss. He whispered against my mouth. “I need to know we both can do this.”
He didn’t want me to surrender to him, he wanted us to surrender to each other.
“I can do that,” I said. I’d do anything for him.
Silas went to the speaker and hit play. Solo piano music moved through the space, and my breathing went shallow as he stepped up to me. His hand smoothed my hair back and cupped my head into his kiss.
We’d never really undressed each other. Taking our own clothes off had been a way to stay in control, to ensure things moved at the pace we’d individually desired. It was a new experience to lift his shirt up over his head and pull it slowly down his arms, then explore his warm skin.
Our kiss was slow and seductive. His hands roved over my clothes, then leisurely worked their way beneath my shirt. We stopped kissing as he gently tugged my top off, and he gazed at my bra-clad breasts, his eyes lidded with desire. I ached for his hands, but rather than demand, I asked.
“Please,” I said softly.
I didn’t have to elaborate. He leaned down, trapping my mouth with his, and his palm slid down my chest until it was right where I wanted it. My nipples hardened from his touch, straining against the fabric of my bra.
His tongue filled my mouth, making me moan. There wasn’t a thought of domination or commands. Only the way he made me feel and how badly I wanted to be his.
Nimble fingers undid my bra clasp, and it released my heavy breasts into his palms. The sensation of his tough skin had my nerves sizzling. He bent me back over his arm and his hot mouth trailed kisses down my throat. He took his time, and I had no complaints. We’d been together so many times, and yet this felt new. Like a first.
It was true in a sense. We’d never made love before.
When his lips closed on my nipple, I put my hand on his belt. I worked it free, trying to keep myself focused. His mouth felt so good, I worried I might never get his pants off at the slow rate I was moving.
But he finally relented and his mouth came back to mine. I kissed him deeply. It got him to sigh, and I loved the sound. The weight of his undone belt brought his pants crashing to his ankles, revealing no patterned boxers beneath them.
“I really need to do laundry,” he admitted.
As I lowe
red to sit on the edge of the bed, I kissed a line down the center of his body. The piano was hauntingly beautiful, and the perfect choice for what he wanted us to try. He stepped out of his pants so he stood naked before me, and his fingers tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. I stared up at his gorgeous face while his thumb traced over my lips.
We’d always rushed before, each of us escalating off the other’s action, a constant one-upmanship. This was so much more intense. More dangerous, more exciting, more everything.
He groaned with anguished relief as I took him in my mouth. His hand held back my hair, but he didn’t guide or force. Silas let me enjoy the quivers I caused in him with every swirl of my tongue. Soft moans rained down from above as I picked up my cadence.
He seemed as eager as I was, though, to connect completely, and he withdrew, silently asking me to move backward on the bed. His hands worked my belt loose, undid the snap and zipper of my jeans, and he began to tug them down. I lifted my hips to help him.
His grin was enormous when he saw the socks with the snow cones. “You want me to leave them on?”
I shook my head, smiling shyly. Good God, I felt oddly bashful, but he didn’t seem to mind. He peeled the socks off, kissed the inside arch of my foot, and his mouth traveled up. It moved along the length of my calf, while his hand mirrored the path on my other leg. His kisses progressively moved across the inside of my thigh, until his mouth and hand met right at my center.
I whimpered as he eased my panties down. I worried I’d come apart if he didn’t touch me soon. The throb between us stole my breath.
“Oh!” The cry fell from my lips as his mouth was on my clit, fluttering his tongue. I tunneled my hands through my hair and closed my eyes. There wasn’t anything else in the world like him.
“I’ve missed the taste of you,” he whispered.
My deep moan brimmed with need. I writhed and gasped for breath beneath his slow licks and quick flurries of his tongue. Everything was buzzing and spinning when he shifted on the bed, rising from between my thighs and moving to settle over me.
I threw my arms around his broad shoulders, holding on tightly, and buried my face in his neck. I breathed in the smell of him. The earthy smell of the woods and Silas. It was a heady mixture.
“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice concerned.
I couldn’t communicate what I was feeling, only what I desperately needed. “Please.”
He pushed inside, inch by slow inch, claiming me. I cinched my arms tighter behind his back, arching up into him. I wanted every inch of my skin against his.
When he began to move, it tumbled from my lips. “You feel so good inside me.”
He made a satisfied noise of agreement, then smothered me with a kiss. It dripped with passion, more intense than what we’d had the night of our disastrously wonderful first date. What we were doing now showed me we’d barely scratched the surface of what we were capable of.
I didn’t mind being beneath him. In fact, I loved it. When his hips swiveled, electricity flashed along my nerves, giving me shudders. His hand was on my breast, and I stared into his eyes as I covered his hand with mine. My heart was speeding in my body, humming along. It didn’t feel cold. It was on fire.
Silas’s thrusts increased in urgency, and I reached my other hand behind me, gripping the edge of the mattress. Pleasure brewed deep in my center. His hard chest rubbed over my nipples with each thrust, teasing sensations that added to my enjoyment. His breath was ragged in my ear, occasionally littered with a moan.
The rising pleasure was like a tsunami I could see coming, and I stood watching, ready to be swept away. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God . . .”
My legs clamped around his waist as the orgasm crashed into us both, carrying us into oblivion. His rhythmic pulses only added to the ecstasy, because I loved knowing he was right there with me. The pleasure burst and warmth flooded everywhere, forcing me to close my eyes, even when I wanted them open so I could keep looking at him.
The groans rolled through him, over and over as he came, his body shuddering on top of mine, and finally, he stilled. My eyes blinked open to find him staring at me. The silver eyes were full of an emotion I had a hard time putting a label on, which was silly. He’d already said once what it was.
“I’m going to tell you that secret again,” he said.
I laughed. “It’s not a secret anymore.”
“Yeah? I love you.”
I set my palm against his cheek. “I love you.”
“Just for tonight?” His expression was guarded hope.
“For tonight. And tomorrow night. For all the nights, Silas.”
He flashed his perfect smile before crushing his lips to mine.
This day was never going to end. All week long I’d been wading through credit card statements and phone records for a case, and my brain had mentally shut off about twenty minutes ago. My cell phone on my desk vibrated with an incoming text from Silas.
I’d sent him a pair of boxers, and typed ‘For laundry day’ in the comments.
Ten minutes later my phone chimed with a new message from him.
The boxers I’d ordered were covered in glow-in-the-dark lightbulbs.
My body flushed with heat. What creative way would he want me?
I snorted. Was the mouth raper comment coming next?
Since the night I’d come clean, our power struggles in the bedroom had changed into something we both enjoyed. Sometimes I’d let him take charge, other times he’d do the same, and there were some nights where neither of us were. The balance and compromise was so much hotter than I’d anticipated.
My ringing phone jarred me from my thoughts.
“Hey,” Silas said. “I felt weird doing it through a text.”
“Doing what?”
“Telling you that I love you.”
“Oh.” I took a breath. “You don’t want to leave a paper trail, I get it.”
“Regan.”
I shivered with enjoyment at the dirty, sexy way he growled my name.
“I love you,” I said. “For all the nights.” That wasn’t exactly true, so I amended. “All the nights, Silas, and every day, too.”
thank you
To my amazing husband. I know this book wasn’t easy on you, and there are no words for how great you are. You taking the kids and letting me disappear into the writing cave every weekend for a solid month was the only reason this book was possible. And thank you so much for your beautiful vision of Regan's tattoo which served as the time lapse graphic in the book. As John Legend sings, “All of me, loves all of you.”
To my fabulous editor, Lori Whitwam. I can’t believe you haven’t told me to take a hike yet after dropping two projects on you and pushing back the deadline on this one. I swear I’m not on a mission to destroy your schedule! Thank you so much for your work and encouragement.
To my gorgeous beta readers Robin Bateman, Joscelyn Freeman Fussell, Rebecca Nebel, Nikki Terrill, and my favorite BFB. Your notes are invaluable. Like, unbelievably invaluable and I feel so blessed to call you my friends. I also owe a big thank you to Natasha Tomic (and Stylo Fantome's terrific books) for bringing us 'Cock & Balls 4ever' girls together. ;-)
To my sexy publicist Heather. I love how our conversations can flow seemlessly from strategy to sex toys, and back again. Thank you for everything you do!
And most importantly, to my incredible readers. Thank you so much for your support! It means the world to me.
the blindfold club
THREE SIMPLE RULES (Book 1)
I would do anything for my dream job. Now I have to.
In order to save my skin at the office, I’m forced to sell it at an exclusive and illegal blindfold club. He paid thousands of dollars for one night to own me, but when my blindfold comes off, I want more. More nights, more rules, and more from this unavailable and uncompromising man.
Rule number one, no questions. Rule number two, no lies. But, rule number three? That’s the hardest one
to obey.
Available Now
THREE HARD LESSONS (Book 2)
I am the woman men pay thousands of dollars to sleep with. I do what I love and what I’m so very good at.
Then he walks in and drops $30,000. He wants to talk. And kiss. And take me home.
In a single night, this man turns everything upside-down and has me breaking every rule I’ve lived by to keep men at a distance. I’m about to learn some lessons the hard way.
Don’t tease him. Don’t give him boundaries. And don’t think you get a choice in who you love.
Available Now
ONE MORE RULE (Novella 2.5)
One week back in Chicago to witness our best friends get married. One hot night to help them celebrate. And one rule for the bride and groom to obey: no more sex until the wedding.
After the evening Dominic and I have planned, who will break first?
Available Now
THREE LITTLE MISTAKES (Book 3)
I sell sex, sin, and pleasure, but it isn’t just my business, it’s my entire life. I get off on the power of controlling it all.
She’s the one woman I can’t have.
She threatens everything, and yet I can’t stay away. There’s a beautiful, sexual creature inside this timid girl that’s desperate to claw its way out. I’m going to set it free, even if it brings my empire tumbling down.
I have to believe she’ll be worth all the little mistakes I’ve made.
Available Now
about nikki sloane
Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, is married with two sons, writes both romantic suspense (under the name Karyn Lawrence) and dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier.
