The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3)

by Nikki Sloane

  He used a hand to turn my head toward his, and his mouth sealed over mine. His kiss was slow and methodical. Once again, it felt designed, and I couldn’t help but think it had an agenda. He used his kiss as a tool to pry everything else out of my head, to force my focus onto him.

  And only him.

  It worked. I was unaware the man had reappeared and was standing in front of us with his hands on his hips and a firm look on his face. His gray suit was back in place, and I was dressed, and we looked like we had earlier. As if the experience we’d shared hadn’t happened.

  But it had. My underwear was still resting on the ottoman where he’d dropped it.

  The man stared at Clay with demanding eyes, but the body beneath me filled with tension. Clay was displeased the man had returned.

  “Thank you.” This time it was more forceful and a clear dismissal to his friend, who I was starting to suspect wasn’t exactly a friend.

  The man’s tone was an even mixture of disbelief and offense. “Clay.”

  “We had a nice time together,” he said. “Let’s not go ruining it.” When that didn’t get the results he wanted, Clay’s expression hardened. “Okay. Do you want your privileges revoked?”

  The man jerked back as if Clay’s threat had physically landed on him, his face soured, and he threw a hand up in the air like an angry surrender.

  Whatever, his eyes screamed.

  Then he exhaled loudly, turned, and marched off like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

  What in the world? I swallowed a breath and my tone turned skeptical. “You said you two are friends?”

  “We are.” Clay’s arms settled around me, and some of the tension he’d had relaxed away. “It’s complicated.”

  Obviously. When it was clear he wasn’t going to explain, I fought the urge to pry. He was private and not in a forthcoming mood right now. If I were easygoing about it, maybe he’d be more likely to open up to me later. “All right. Does your friend have a name?”

  His shoulders lifted on a heavy breath. “No, he doesn’t because I was the one you were with tonight. There was no one else.”

  Did Clay think the man would only become a separate person if I had a name assigned to him?

  His mouth pressed to mine, erasing all my thoughts except for one. I was curious to a fault, and this complicated man was irresistible catnip to me. He was a mystery, and I would solve him, one way or another.

  NINE

  Clay flew to Jacksonville first thing Monday morning, and was gone all week.

  Noir didn’t seem to mind. She was settling in nicely to her home and no longer hid from me when I came over for my nightly checks. In fact, it wasn’t long before she was trained to come running when she heard the chirp of the alarm system each time I opened the door.

  Thursday evening, she was hopped up on catnip and purring like mad when my phone rang, and Clay’s name appeared on screen. He wanted to FaceTime me? I tapped the screen and pushed out a bright smile.

  “Hey, there,” I said. “Are you missing this pussy?”

  I was lying on my back on the floor beside our cat, so I panned the camera over to bring her in frame.

  His laugh was short, and I couldn’t tell if he was amused or just caught off guard by my joke. He appeared to be sitting on the bed in his hotel room, leaning against the headboard. “Hi. I see you’re keeping her company.”

  “I check on her every day.”

  “I know,” he said. “I see the notifications on my phone.”

  I paused. His security system was fancy and probably had cameras too. “Yeah?” I teased. “Are you watching me?”

  His eyebrow edged up into an upside-down V. “Is that a problem?”

  God, his playful sternness got me hot. “You know it’s not.”

  But whatever dirty thoughts I was about to have were interrupted when Noir rolled over. As she stretched, her claws came out and reminded me of what I needed to mention. “I’m worried she might be scratching on your furniture. Any objection to me buying her a scratching post?”

  “Why would I object to that?”

  “I didn’t know if you were thinking about building something for her.”

  “Oh.” His gaze drifted away as he considered it, then returned to the camera. “I can’t.”

  I nodded in understanding. “You’ve got your kitchen renovation and that kneeler you’re working on. I just figured I’d check before I went and—”

  “No, it’s not that.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the center of his forehead. “I can’t because I don’t know when I’ll be home next. That’s why I’m calling.”

  I sat up with a start. “What?”

  “Somehow the wrong specs went to the fabricators, which means now we have to change the configuration of the rooms. And that means the outlets have to move, plus the cabinets . . . It’s a cascading change and a fucking nightmare.” He opened his eyes, and disappointment made his shoulders slump. “I have to stay onsite until we have it sorted out.”

  I pressed my lips together and did my best to control my emotions. He was supposed to come back tomorrow, and since he was only set to be home for the weekend, we’d made plans to spend Saturday night together.

  Well, he’d said he’d handle the planning, but I’d agreed to come over.

  I’d been eagerly wondering what he had in store for me. I wasn’t just terribly curious about him, but also wanted to know how he’d help me explore BDSM. What kind of enjoyable pain was he planning to put on the menu for our evening?

  And also, we hadn’t had sex yet—not when it was just us, so I was desperate for that.

  “How long do you think it’ll be?”

  He hesitated. “At least another week or two.”

  I forced out a smile, trying to downplay my disappointment. “That’s not that bad.”

  “No, but it’s not,” he weighted the word, “ideal.” He was just as frustrated with the situation as I was, and that helped ease the sting a little. “I had plans for us, and you know I don’t like it when my plans get changed.”

  Warmth spread through me at the memory. “You don’t have to change them. This is just a delay.” I lifted an eyebrow and strove for a sexy tone. “I’ll still be right next door whenever you get back.”

  Noir rested her head on top of one of her arms as she curled up into a ball and began to fall asleep. I panned the camera down so she was in the frame.

  “I bet she was looking forward to seeing you again,” I said.

  When I moved the phone so I was back on screen, his guard seemed down and his tone genuine. “Trust me, I was looking forward to seeing her, too.”

  It was perfectly clear he wasn’t talking about the black and white cat we shared.

  Instead of spending Saturday night with Clay as planned, I commiserated with Cassidy. Her boyfriend Greg was on-call all weekend, which meant he was stuck at the hospital and we were both without our partners. We did dinner and a movie, and then she ‘crashed’ at my place afterward—at least, that was the version she told her mother.

  It really meant she parked her car at my house, then walked to Greg’s place that was a few streets over and slept in his bed, because there was a chance he’d come home in the middle of the night, and they took every opportunity they could to be together, especially when she was home from Vanderbilt for the summer.

  I suspected she wasn’t fooling anyone, but Cassidy wouldn’t turn twenty-one until August, and her mother liked to pretend her daughter wasn’t spending the night with a man who was twenty years older.

  I’d given my friend an edited version of last weekend, telling her how my naked surprise for Clay had worked, and that after we’d fooled around, he’d taken me out to a club later that night. I left out the ruler he used, what kind of club we’d gone to, and that I’d let a stranger fuck me while he watched.

  Lying wasn’t something I was comfortable with, but I’d sort of jumped into the deep end
with Clay and didn’t know how Cassidy was going to react. Telling her would be better if I did it in smaller pieces and gradually. Plus, this would give me time to gauge how my partner would feel about me sharing with her what we did.

  I’d told her about Clay’s offer of a non-traditional relationship.

  “And you’re okay with that?” she asked me as we ate. “A relationship that’s just sex?”

  I laughed lightly. “Oh, yeah. I’m more than okay with it.” If anything, I preferred it. “I just get all the good parts. I don’t have to meet his family or pretend to be interested in his stuff if I’m not.”

  I left off the biggest perk. If we didn’t let our feelings get involved, then maybe my eventual break-up with Clay wouldn’t be as messy as my previous ones had been. And I wasn’t being defeatist about needing to break up with him down the road—I was being a realist.

  He didn’t do romance or love, but I didn’t do long-term.

  Cassidy gave me a dubious look but didn’t say anything. I hadn’t judged her when she’d hooked up with her ex-boyfriend’s father, and so she wasn’t going to judge me . . . but that didn’t mean she thought what I was doing was all that smart.

  It probably wasn’t, but I was already in too deep. I was too focused on getting to know everything about him. Why was he so private? Why didn’t romance interest him?

  After the weekend, Clay and I fell into a surprising pattern. He’d caught on that I’d go over to his place every night after I’d eaten dinner and check in with Noir. My visits usually were about thirty minutes, but once he started calling during them, I often lost track of time. We spent more than an hour chatting most nights—although he let me dominate the conversation. I tried to steer the focus toward him, but he was masterful at sidestepping it.

  His mysteriousness was like a new kind of foreplay. Or torture.

  “Okay,” I peered at him through the screen of my phone, “I’ve put this off as long as I can. We need to talk about this haircut.”

  I walked over to the fireplace in his living room and pointed to the framed photo resting on his mantel. It looked like it had been taken years ago, maybe even a decade prior, and seemed to be his younger sister’s graduation from the University of Tennessee. She was pretty in her black cap and gown and was flanked on either side by her parents. Beside her mother stood Clay, wearing a suit, thinner frames, and an unfortunate buzzcut.

  “It was hot as hell that summer.” He flashed a rueful smile. “It grew back.”

  “Thank God for that,” I teased. “When was this?”

  The light in his eyes began to dim. “Eleven years ago.”

  “Your sister’s really pretty. She favors your mom.”

  Even on the small screen of my phone, I could see the exact moment he shuttered himself away. His expression went flat. “Yeah.”

  “Hey,” I said quickly. “I wasn’t snooping. This picture is out in the open, and with your lack of hair in full view . . . I can’t not look at it.”

  I padded on my bare feet to the entryway. I couldn’t tell if he had a ‘shoes by the door’ policy inside his house, but his floors were beautiful hardwood, and I didn’t want my heels to damage them.

  “And I wasn’t snooping through your mail either,” I continued.

  Irritation sliced down his face. “Excuse me?”

  “You know I watch my parents’ house for them, right? One of the things I do is bring the mail in every day and go through it for them.” I gave him an embarrassed smile. “I grabbed yours today. It’s habit, sorry. And your mailbox was pretty full.” I showed him the stack of letters and mailers. “I didn’t go through it, I swear,” I explained quickly. “I only brought it in and dropped it off here, but . . . there’s a letter from the HOA on top.”

  His displeasure drained away. “Oh.”

  “My parents got one too.”

  The homeowners’ association used to be nothing more than a small annual fee to maintain the sign at the front of the subdivision, but last year Judy Maligner had taken over the board. Her lifelong goal was to be a giant pain in the ass—and she was currently living her dreams.

  I couldn’t stand the woman and had yet to meet anyone who could.

  Clay paused as if considering something. “I guess . . . do you mind opening it?”

  “Sure.”

  I set the phone down on the table, propped up against the wall so he could still see, and then tore open the top of the envelope. He waited patiently as I unfolded the single sheet of paper and scanned the contents.

  “Fucking Judy,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “What is it?”

  I let the letter drop onto his stack of mail. “It’s the same one my parents got. The HOA has adopted a new ‘night sky’ policy.”

  He took off his glasses and ground the palm of his hand into one eye.

  “You know what that means?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Is this just letting me know about the policy change? Or is it a warning?”

  I pressed my lips together for a moment. “It says you have thirty days to change your landscape lighting or you’re going to get fined. Lights can only point down, not up anymore.” I glanced at the date at the top of the letter. “Sorry. You have twenty-six days left.”

  He put his glasses on as he let out an enormous sigh.

  The policy was bullshit. Half the houses in our subdivision had soft up-lighting and had been that way for years. She wanted everyone to redo their exterior lights to—according to the letter—prevent light trespassing into the sky and causing pollution.

  “This is all Judy,” I said. “The rest of the board is terrified of her. They let her do whatever she wants, including harass Dr. Lowe.”

  Clay looked confused. “Who?”

  “Dr. Lowe? His house is a few streets over, and he unfortunately lives next door to Judy Maligner. She’s pissed he’s dating my friend Cassidy, so she fucking weaponized the HOA against him.” I glared at the letter. “I guarantee he’s got landscape lighting that points up. Everyone else that does in this subdivision, like you and my parents, are collateral damage.”

  He digested the info. “Why’s she pissed he’s dating your friend?”

  “She says it’s inappropriate because Cassidy’s a lot younger than he is. But I really think it’s because she wanted Dr. Lowe for herself.” I picked the phone up and stared at him, not wanting to think about stupid Judy for another second. “How’s it going at work? You think you’ll be home soon?”

  He put a hand on the back of his neck and leaned against the headboard of his hotel bed. It was an hour later for him in Florida, and he was wearing a simple white t-shirt, so I got a view of his toned bicep. He seemed unaware of how good he looked or the effect he had on me.

  “Maybe another week. It was my department’s fuck up, and the hospital system won’t put up with a delay over something like this.”

  Another week wasn’t the end of the world, I told myself. I could sulk later after we’d hung up. “What are you going to do about your lights?”

  He let go of the back of his neck and lifted the hand like he had no idea. “I’ll deal with it when I get back, I guess.”

  The idea quickly took shape in my mind, and I slathered on my best salesman smile. “Okay. I have a proposition for you.”

  My smile had been too thick because he looked wary. “Yeah?”

  “I’m already handling this for my parents. If you want, I could have the company that’s rewiring my parents’ house come quote your yard too.”

  “I feel like there’s a catch coming.”

  I laughed lightly. “All you have to do is tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t already know.”

  He wasn’t amused. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” But I did know. My tone was innocuous and casual. “You could tell me how you got into the lifestyle.”

  Rather than look nervous or displeased, he relaxed, and his e
xpression was . . . strange. Almost smug, like I’d aimed way too low. He shifted on his bed, getting more comfortable. “Porn.”

  “Um, what?” Was he saying he did porn?

  Like he could hear my thoughts, Clay shook his head. “A few years ago, I was watching a video that had this spanking horse in it. The whole time I’m looking at the video, instead of watching the performers, I’m staring at the piece and thinking, ‘I could build that better.’ So, I did some research and,” he lifted a shoulder, “some testing of my design.”

  A wide grin spread across my lips. “You got hot for furniture while watching porn?”

  “Yeah.” His unexpected laugh was warm. “After I built that first one and sold it, the client wanted another piece, plus they told some of their play partners about me, and I developed a reputation for my work. There’s not a big market for BDSM furniture, but the stuff I build is high quality, and it’s important to me that it doesn’t just look good—it meets every one of the clients’ needs too.”

  “Form and function,” I said.

  “Yes, exactly.” Somehow, with five hundred miles between us, the air around us thickened. Smoke filled his voice. “It didn’t take me long to realize I enjoyed the research. I liked watching people play together at Eros, and it took even less time to figure out how much I liked testing my pieces out with a submissive.”

  His words were a puff of air sweeping across the embers inside me, rekindling the fire that had been dormant the last week. “I’d be happy to help you with that.”

  “Thanks. I . . .” He frowned and glanced away. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

  “How come?”

  His gaze snapped back to mine and sharpened, maybe evaluating whether to go any farther with this conversation. I pleaded with him with my eyes. Didn’t he know the fastest way to build trust was to share with each other?

  He took a deep breath. “Things didn’t end well with my last partner.”

  All the desire in me was shelved, and a heavy feeling sank in my stomach. I was sure the answer was no, but I asked it anyway. “Do you want to talk about it?”