by Lisa Wells
Kinley took her glasses out of her purse and slid them on. “How does one become sex party hosts?”
“The journey is really quite simple. My grandparents owned the business. I inherited their Bash Homes, and thus the tradition, when they died.” Charlie handed Kinley a black mask with beautiful beading attached to the front and a different bracelet. “Put these on.”
Kinley removed hers and did as she was told. “Why have you been acting like we don’t know one another? And why do you want me to wear this mask? Are you the one who gave Ian the invitation?”
“Because this gives you the upper hand in what happens tonight. And yes, I may have interfered a tiny bit and made sure Ian found out about tonight’s event. And then placed the seed of the thought in your head by casually mentioning swinger parties in a comment.”
Charlie had masterfully manipulated them both. Wow, she was good. “Why do I need the upper hand?” She glanced at her bracelet, the three jingled from the gold band.
“You’re scheduled to go home tomorrow—correct?”
“So?” What was it the three represented?
“Honey, I’ve seen a lot of couples in my life. I have a sense when it comes to who will fall in love and who won’t. You and Ian are destined.”
Kinley dropped her arm to her side and made a noise that defied description other than a donkey’s laugh. “Not in this lifetime. I don’t trust him…he’s an ass.” Even to her own ears, she sounded like she was protesting too much.
Charlie raised Kinley’s chin with her finger, her bracelets clacking noisily in the room. Charlie had a gazillion trinkets on her bracelet. “He’s a keeper.”
Kinley stepped away from the touch. “And you know this how?” She didn’t disagree with Charlie. Especially now that she knew the truth about the Stacy incident. But falling in love with Ian was a wasted cause. He’d never feel that way about her in return.
“Like I said. I have a knack for reading people.”
“Whatever.”
“Tell me. Do you love him?”
“Of course not. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“But he’s your dom—right?”
Kinley flushed and tingled and wanted the floor to swallow her. “Well, yes. But only for the duration of the conference. And it’s all in the name of research…” She licked her lips. Was Charlie a freaking psychic?
“That may be true—but you’re not the type to let a man be in charge of you if you don’t trust him. And, you have a personality that finds it very hard to trust. In fact, the only men you are ever going to trust are those you love.”
“You’re talking in circles,” she argued.
“Do you want to know how to find out if he loves you?”
“Of course…not…maybe.” That was her new favorite response. There was so much conviction in it. She was a woman who knew her mind.
“There’s a couple at the party. Do you remember the sale’s lady from the boutique?”
“Sure.”
“She’s the female. The male is her current lover. They’ll know you by your mask. They are going to approach you. Her lover is going to whisk you away. You’re going to go willingly.”
Kinley placed her hand over her chest. “I don’t want to have sex with her lover! I just told Ian I did so he’ll stop saying I don’t have what it takes to write sexy fiction.” Could a woman have a heart attack from sexual shock?
Charlie’s smile faded, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you want to have sex with another man? He’s quite delicious to gaze upon.”
Kinley walked across the room to glance at a picture of a threesome in progress. “Because… Just because.”
Charlie walked up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Because you’re in love with Ian. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Absolutely not,” Kinley said, stepping away from the touch.
Charlie laughed. “You protest too loudly. If Ian allows you to go, that means he hasn’t realized his own love for you. Your act of leaving will push him to realize how deep his emotions go for you. Don’t stop leaving until he declares his love.”
“That’s a ridiculous plan.” Was she protesting too much?
“When you left him in the bar, he chased after you, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“That’s because by leaving, he realized he wanted you more than he wanted his pride to win.”
“What?” Kinley asked, intrigued.
“Men don’t know what they want until what they want leaves, and they have to chase to get what they want back.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Of course. And once a woman realizes this, they have the upper hand. You just keep leaving until your man stops letting you leave. Then you let him catch you.”
Kinley went to the couch and sat down. She forced herself to think logically. “Your theory is all fine and dandy if this week had been spent with us falling in love with one another.”
“And isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” Charlie came and sat down beside her.
“The sex is spectacular. But part of the reason it’s so great is because at the stroke of midnight, I leave for the airport and we go back to being childhood acquaintances. We promised each other a nostrings-attached week in which I get to learn about kink.”
Charlie took Kinley’s hands in her own large ones and squeezed. “Do you think you are the only couple faced with complications to falling in love? History is full of fabulous couples like you. The best love stories are complicated. You should know that as a writer.”
“Of course they can be complicated. But we’re not a love story.”
“Trust me—you are. And the universe has placed me in the middle of your business to help you remove the complications to your happily ever after.”
“How do you know that’s what the universe wants you to do?”
“I saw it in the cards, of course.”
Kinley didn’t know how to respond to that type of logic. Charlie was—what? A tarot-reading, sex toy selling, blackjack playing, sex club owner?
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Bless your heart, you know I’m not.”
“What are you? Like my sex-fairy godmother?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ian glanced at a couple humping on the dance floor and frowned and wasn’t sure why he wanted to cover Kinley’s eyes and wasn’t sure why he was regretting RSVP’ing for this party. His reaction didn’t make sense. They were at a party that was all about sex. The couple wasn’t acting inappropriately.
And he didn’t consider himself old-fashioned.
Old-fashioned described his parents, who’d married at the age of eighteen and never regretted the decision.
Old-fashioned described his grandparents, who were married sixty-two years before separated by death.
Old-fashioned described those who followed society’s rules.
Rules he’d never especially cared for, because they were too old-fashioned.
So why did he feel the need to grab Kinley and protect her from the debauchery rampant in the massive ballroom decorated with pictures and statues of scantily clad individuals engaged in every sex act one could imagine, and some he’d never thought to?
“Have you ever seen so many beautiful people in one room?” Kinley asked next to him, her voice a little high-pitched. As if overly excited, or overly nervous, or both.
One couple waved at them from across the room.
Kinley raised her arm and waved back.
He pulled her arm down. “Don’t encourage them.” They shouldn’t have put charms on their bracelets. They should have committed to just observing. Why hadn’t he insisted? Why had he agreed to this party to begin with? When in the hell had he become such a moron?
She pulled her brows together. “Why not? How are we going to meet a compatible couple if we don’t mingle?”
He ran a hand through his hair. His gut was
tight. He reminded himself he’d promised her a week of learning kink. “I don’t know why you don’t just agree to write Amish romance.”
Her jaw dropped, and she punched him in the shoulder. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
Fuck. He was way past second thoughts. He wouldn’t lie to her and say no. But he wasn’t ready to analyze his feelings too closely. “I want you to be happy.” That much was true.
“Being the best possible writer I can be will make me happy. If experiencing the act of swinging helps my writing, then I say let’s go find us a good looking couple and make us a swap.”
He glanced away. She sounded positively eager. Like a writer in a bookstore with a no-limit credit card.
She obviously had no problem trading him in for a different model. Why wasn’t he feeling the same? “Why don’t we have a seat and observe for a moment? Take this slower rather than quicker.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and he was pretty sure she rolled her eyes at him. But the mask made it difficult to know for sure. Was she wearing a different mask?
He took her hand and tugged her to a set of chairs that were in a corner by themselves. “This is better. We can enjoy a drink, listen to the music, and people-watch.”
“Wow. He’s hot.” A guy wearing a cowboy hat, a snug white T-shirt, jeans, and boots walked by. “So rugged.” Kinley fanned herself, drawing his attention.
A bolt of jealousy stabbed Ian. She didn’t like country music. And she’d never used to like cowboys. Why did she like cowboys now? He had a cowboy hat and boots in his closet in New York. If that’s what turned her on, he could give her that. “She’s not bad herself,” he forced himself to say.
She glanced at the woman and frowned. “What time does your plane leave tomorrow?”
“It doesn’t. I leave the following day. How about you?”
“Mine takes off at four a.m. It was the only one I could get at a rate I could afford. I’ll probably leave this party tonight, go back to our suite and pack, and then leave for the airport.” Her words were running together like two colors of paint when the tape is removed before they dry. “Unless I’m with someone else, then maybe I’ll just have you pack my stuff and send it to me. That is if I’m running late and have to make a mad dash for the airport.”
Hell. Why was he just learning of this? “We should leave early. This isn’t a good night for us to do this. You’ll need some sleep. And you don’t really want me to pack your toys—do you?” And they needed one more night of passion.
The woman he’d mentioned earlier walked back into their line of view and gave Ian a thorough look.
Kinley exhaled loudly. “Oh, I plan to stay here as late as I possibly can.” She gave him a wicked smirk. “And you’ve already seen my toys, I don’t care if you pack them.”
Before he could respond, the couple came to a stop in front of them. “Hello,” the male said.
Kinley hopped up. “Hi.” She held out her hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed the back. She giggled.
Reluctantly, Ian stood and said hi to the female. “You’re a breathtaking sight in the midst of a breathtaking scenery,” he said stiffly, using a line he’d used often on the dating scene.
She smiled tranquilly and ran her hand down his arm. “And you are fresh blood. We haven’t seen either of you at one of these parties before.”
“This is our first time,” Kinley said.
“You’re beautiful,” the female purred to Kinley, taking both of her hands in her own, lifting their hands in the air, and then spreading them out. She glanced up and down Kinley’s body and turned to her partner. “I’d say she is definitely someone we’d like to get to know.”
Ian took a step back. This couple wasn’t interested in him. They were interested in finding another female for a threesome. He glanced at the couple’s bracelets. A number three dangled from them.
He glanced at the two on his and then glanced at Kinley’s. He frowned. When did she add the three to go with her two?
“I’m Donnie, this is Marie,” the male said. “Perhaps we can talk later.” He spoke directly to Kinley.
She blushed. “Perhaps.”
The couple disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared.
“Take that three off of your bracelet,” Ian hissed.
They both sat down.
“Why? I’m not opposed to trying a threesome. And, gawd, he was a male specimen of perfection. I wonder how big he is beneath that buckle?”
“Really? You’d be willing to go into one of the bedrooms around here and have a threesome with those two?” He sounded like a spinster judging.
Her lips parted. Her eyes flashed daggers. “I’d consider the possibility. For my writing. Are you jealous? Or is your male pride hurt, because they wanted me and not you?”
He shook his head and sighed. “This was a fucking stupid idea. Your brother trusts me to keep you safe.”
She lifted her mask then reached over and lifted his. “You’re so cute. You think because we’ve had sex this week that I belong to you? And/or that my brother and you can still rule my life?”
He pulled his mask back into place. “I didn’t say that. You’re your own person. The only person you belong to is the person you decide to belong to.”
“Would you like to dance?”
Kinley and Ian both jerked in surprise at the sound of a female voice. They looked up. A couple was standing in front of them.
Hell. Had they sat down in a spot that said, “we’re new, come to us?”
“I’d love to dance with you,” Kinley said pulling her mask down. She took the man’s outstretched hand, and sashayed away.
“How about you? Would you like to dance?” The woman had a short pixie haircut and huge blue eyes. Built like a petite Dolly Pardon.
He stood. “Why not.”
He glanced around the room for Kinley and didn’t see her. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get her alone. Enjoy together what little time they had left this week. He was going to insist they leave.
Where had she gone?
He spied her in the corner dancing like he remembered her dancing. Fantastically poor. He chuckled. Her suitor would leave her soon enough.
He led his dance partner to the same corner and danced just as poorly. Because that’s all he knew how to do. He and Kinley smiled at one another. Their arms flailing. Their legs twitching. Sure, he could make a better effort if he’d tried, but their own brand—dare he even call it dancing—was more fun.
Amidst a twisting turn on Kinley’s part, he grabbed her arm and led her off the floor—to a door. Without giving her time to speak, he opened the door, pushed her in, and shut it behind them.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, yanking out of his grip and taking a step away.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He turned on the light and glanced around the room. A playroom. A lady’s boudoir.
“I’m conducting research for my writing. Something you’re supposed to be helping me with—not hindering my progress in.”
“I am helping you. I’m giving you a lesson in what it means to be a submissive.”
She jammed her hands on her hips. “Don’t even think about spanking me.”
He hadn’t been. But now that she brought it up… He ran his hand through his hair. Frustrated with himself. Frustrated with her. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because…because…” Her voice was husky. Aroused. Defiant.
He took a steadying breath, walked to a wall of scarves, and grabbed one. Then he walked to the dressing table and picked up a flat head brush. “These should work.” It was time for him to reclaim his control of their experiment.
She raised her mask and backed toward the door. Her oversized brown eyes were flashing fire. She sucked at being a submissive. Which suited him just fine. He liked her spunk.
He reached out—grabbed her arm. “Because isn’t an answer.” He removed his mask, and their gazes locked. He glanced aw
ay from her far too spellbinding eyes…eyes that could make a man forget his mission.
“Because is as good as any,” she said in a voice that charred his brain with its heat. There was some new nuance to her voice. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whatever it was, he liked it.
“Is it because,” he said the word because very softly, “you’d prefer I kiss you right now? And then whisk you away from this circus?” He lifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes.
She shook her head and tried to yank her arm free. “Who’s to say I didn’t want to kiss the guy I was dancing with instead of being pulled in here and manhandled by you?”
He pushed her against the wall. Trapped her there with his hands on either side of her face. Felt her heart pounding against him. “Did you?” He leaned in close. Close enough to smell her mint toothpaste. To feel the heat coming off her body. To see the dilation of her pupils.
…
“When in Rome…” Kinley quipped. She wasn’t sure her heart had ever pounded so hard and fast in her life. She noticed the freckle next to the scar on his forehead, adding a sweetness to the physical reminder of his kindness when they were young.
That was the day she fell in hero-worship of Ian Thompson.
His lips parted. She inhaled the scent of a fine scotch on his breath.
Was Charlie right? Did he love her? Was tonight going to be the night he declared his love? Would he do it here in this room?
He leaned in closer. “We’re not in Rome.” He placed the scarf over her eyes and tied it gently behind her head.
“You know what I mean,” she whispered.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered back. And then his lips were on hers. Soft at first. Caressing.
She placed her hands on his shoulders to remain standing. Her legs wanted to fold underneath her. She couldn’t believe this moment was happening. Couldn’t seem to focus on anything beyond the rapid rhythm of her heart pounding in her chest and how much she hadn’t even known she wanted this moment to happen.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Occupied,” he growled.
Why didn’t he just say I love you and whisk her away? Take her someplace where they wouldn’t be interrupted? Someplace worthy of a declaration of love?
