The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3)

by Nikki Sloane

  She had Greg, and I didn’t want to cling to her all night. I was outgoing, but I felt like Clay when I thought about the upcoming evening. Being around unfamiliar people was exhausting.

  “Even if Travis is willing,” I said, “I don’t know how Clay would feel about that.” His comment about being jealous ran through my mind.

  She said it like I was being silly. “You could ask him.”

  I opened my mouth to explain it wasn’t that simple, and promptly shut it. She made an excellent point, and we needed to be better about communication. I picked up my phone and thumbed out a text.

  Me: I’m going out for my friend’s birthday tonight and I don’t know most of the people going. Would you mind if I asked Travis to come so I’m not the odd one out?

  I sent the message and tried not to hold my breath. Clay and I didn’t date, but we hadn’t talked about it with Travis. Clay had said he didn’t want to stand in the way, and it seemed strange that he would be okay sharing me with another man, but not letting me hang out with one.

  The three dots blinked on my screen, and then vanished.

  My heart sank. He was struggling with how to respond. Had I just complicated things between us even more?

  A new text message popped up on my screen. It was a group message with Clay and a number I didn’t recognize.

  Clay: I’m looping Travis in on this, hope that’s okay. Lilith has something she wants to ask you.

  I sat straighter in my chair, surprised and excited enough that Cassidy shot me a look.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. If Clay had an issue with me going out with Travis, I doubted the first thing he would have done was give me Travis’s number.

  Me: Hey, Travis. It’s last minute, but are you free tonight? I’m going out for my friend’s birthday, but I don’t know most of the people going. Do you want to join me?

  I didn’t have to wait long for his response.

  Travis: Hi. Sure, but I’m still at work. What time?

  Me: The party bus is picking us up at 8. My friend’s house is just down the street from Clay’s.

  Travis: Party bus?

  Me: It’s my friend’s 21st birthday. Her boyfriend rented a bus so we can go bar hopping. So...everyone will be kinda young.

  Clay: OMG. It’s not too late to back out, Travis.

  I laughed and pictured Clay as he read the conversation, probably glad for the first time he was down in Florida, because this evening surely sounded like hell to him.

  Travis: LOL. It’s fine, send me the address.

  Travis stood with one hand on the railing and a bottle of beer in the other, and watched Cassidy as she plodded barefoot across the red inflatable mat. “So, the goal is to make her throw up?”

  It was loud in the bar, but I heard him and laughed, making my phone shake as I was trying to shoot video. “She won’t stay on long enough,” I said. “I give her about four seconds.”

  The male employee at the center of the ring helped her climb up on top of the mechanical bull, and after a quick conversation, he walked to the control panel. People hooted and hollered words of encouragement for her all around the ring. Cassidy’s cheeks were pink and her smile enormous as she lifted a hand into the air. It was meant to help keep her balance, but the bull wasn’t even moving yet, and she already looked unsteady.

  The tequila shots we’d done twenty minutes ago were hitting her. My friend was buzzing hard.

  “Four seconds might be generous,” Greg said, who stood on my other side against the railing.

  To his credit, the guy operating the machine started nice and slow. The bull turned in a leisurely circle and undulated gently, allowing her to get used to the motion. She pumped her fist and beamed to the crowd watching her, acting like this was easy.

  But then the bull abruptly changed directions and picked up speed. Cassidy’s smile froze as she began to list to one side, and her free hand for balance joined her other one already clinging to the horn of the saddle.

  She was rapidly losing the battle to stay up.

  The machine swerved and changed directions again, slinging her off into a heap on the red cushion of air. Within seconds she was up on her feet, laughing uncontrollably while trying to fix the gaudy ‘Birthday Girl’ sash one of her other friends had presented to her at the first bar.

  I’d tried to pretend this wasn’t a date, but when Travis had parked his fancy SUV in my driveway, climbed out, and flashed a smile, I got the same weird butterflies in my stomach I’d had my first night with Clay.

  So, yeah. This was totally a date, which meant it was our first date.

  Travis looked great too. His fitted, short sleeve button-down shirt was white with navy dots on it, and he’d paired it with dark jeans. His clothes flaunted what great shape he was in, and after we’d walked down the road to Greg’s house and boarded the bus, one of the girls in the back had whisper-shouted appreciatively to a friend, “Who’s that guy?”

  While Cassidy walked toward the exit of the ring, Colin materialized out of nowhere, filling the empty spot at the rail beside Travis. “So,” he said to the man that was quite a bit older than he was, “you must be one of Lilith’s boyfriends.”

  He’d said it teasingly, but Travis’s expression went blank and my brain stopped working. “Uh . . .” I started.

  Colin laughed, not knowing his joke wasn’t actually a joke. “She told me she had two boyfriends earlier when we were talking, so no room for me.” He continued his teasing tone. “Hope the other guy’s not news to you.”

  Travis tilted his head as if saying huh, interesting.

  Perhaps he thought since I’d volunteered this info so freely, he was willing to do the same, and his matter-of-fact tone reflected it. “No, he’s not.”

  Colin’s smile hung with the realization the man might not be kidding, and what that meant began to dawn in him. Genuine interest filled his expression. “Really?”

  Greg had one ear in our conversation, and when he sensed the turn coming, he must have wanted to get ahead of it. “Hey, Colin. Who should we get to go for a ride next? Let’s ask the birthday girl.”

  He practically dragged the kid away, thankfully leaving Travis and me alone to talk.

  “It just came out when I was talking to him,” I said. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Calling me your boyfriend?” Travis lifted his beer to his lips, somewhat concealing his smile before taking a sip. “It’s okay with me.” He leaned his forearms on the rail and turned over his shoulder to give me a good look at his handsome face. “I’m not interested in seeing other people. You—and Clay too, I guess—are plenty.”

  My breath caught. “Is it weird for you? Being with me while I’m also with him?”

  “I didn’t think I’d like it. I mean, I’m not supposed to, right? Guys aren’t really known for sharing.” The sound of the loud bar faded as I focused on him. “But I don’t mind it, Lilith, especially now that the rules are gone. It’s like you said. I really like what we have.”

  “Why?” I had my reasons, but I was desperate to know his.

  His gaze left mine as he searched how to put it into words. “Clay and I both can give you pleasure, but we do it in different ways. He does things you need, things I don’t know if I could do—at least not on my own yet.” His focus returned to me. “And I get how pain can be a release. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy what we do. I love the power exchange when we’re in a scene, but I’m still dealing with my hang-ups when it comes to inflicting pain. Even when it’s clearly what you want.” He adjusted so he stood tall, took another swig of his beer, and his expression clouded over. “I struggle whenever I see suffering.”

  I exhaled, feeling ten pounds lighter. It felt so good to talk about it and understand. We spent our whole lives believing in black and white that causing other people pain was bad. Travis still needed to get comfortable in this new gray area, where I liked the pain he caused
.

  And I understood the struggle with suffering. Knowing I could help ease the discomfort in an animal, when they couldn’t speak for themselves, was the most rewarding part of my job.

  “Is that why you became a vet?” I asked.

  “It’s a big part of it, yeah.” He softened. “You know how when you’re a kid, you say what you want to be when you grow up? Like, I’m gonna be a fireman, or a football player . . . or a vet.” He shot me a lopsided smile. “I just never grew out of it.” He absentmindedly picked at the label on his beer. “And also, my parents were super anti-pet.”

  “Oh, my God, mine too. That’s how I ended up jointly owning a cat with Clay.”

  He hesitated. “What?”

  “Noir?” That only confused him further. “The tuxedo cat at Clay’s. She’s both of ours.”

  I explained the story to him as we watched Cassidy’s friends fall off the mechanical bull one by one. Since I’d just told him how Clay and I had met, I wondered about him.

  “Can I ask you something?” I swirled the ice in my empty glass. “Clay said he ‘trained’ you. What was that like?”

  When Travis’s eyebrows pulled together, I wondered if I’d overstepped, so I waived a hand like I could brush my prying question away.

  “You don’t have to answer,” I said quickly. “Clay’s a private guy, not the most forthcoming, and I’m—”

  “He is private, but there’s a reason for that.”

  “Yeah.” I dropped my voice low. “He, uh, told me about her.”

  Surprise glanced through him. “That’s good, then. I’m glad. He’s never talked about it with me, but I know the situation was really hard on him.”

  “Wait.” Curiosity ate at me. “If he’s never talked about it, how do you know?”

  “Because I was there the night he had her removed from the club.” His shoulders lifted with a deep breath. “She didn’t go quietly, either. She screamed and caused a huge scene, saying all this personal shit about him like his name, where he lived, where he worked. It was bad.”

  “Oh, my God.” That had to be one of Clay’s nightmares fully realized. And to have it done by someone he’d cared about? Awful.

  “I didn’t know him back then, but I’d been right there when it all went down. I saw how upset he was and, even though he was a stranger, I wanted to make sure he was . . . I don’t know. Okay.” Because Travis saw Clay was suffering and he couldn’t tolerate it. He had to help. “So, I bought him a drink and we got to talking, and when he found out it was my first time at Eros, he was focused on that. I think he was happy for the distraction, and I was happy to get some advice.”

  “Advice?”

  “On getting into the lifestyle. I’d been interested in it for a while, but I didn’t know where to start.” He said it straightforward. “I didn’t have friends I was comfortable talking about it with either.”

  “So, he offered to take you under his wing and train you?”

  “No, not at first. For a while, he was just someone to talk to. We mostly texted. After the night his partner got banned, he was pretty cautious.”

  “Understandable,” I said.

  “Yeah. After a few months of that, we started coordinating the nights we’d be at the club. If I found a scene partner who was up for it, he’d usually watch, and then we’d discuss afterward.”

  I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. “Like, he’d critique the scene?”

  Travis’s lopsided smile was so fucking sexy, I had to grip the rail to stay upright. “He gave me feedback, yeah.” His tone was warm. “I learned a lot from him, and he liked doing it, so when he offered to show me more, it was an easy yes.”

  My pulse skipped faster, intrigued. “Hmm,” I purred. “Tell me about this ‘more.’”

  He chuckled. “If I’m going to use something in a scene—like, say a flogger,” he paused to give time for the memory of last night’s scene to burn through my mind, “I need to understand the flogger completely. What kind of sensation the ends of the tails create versus the middle. How much force to use and where on the body to strike to create different layers. I have to know what it feels like, so I can give my partner the right sensations at the right pace.”

  Holy shit.

  My breathing went erratic as I figured out what he was saying. To understand how to use the flogger, he’d had to experience it being used on himself. “You scened with Clay.”

  He could see how hot the idea made me because he smiled and shook his head. “Don’t get all excited. It was instructional. I like pleasure, not pain, plus I’m not submissive. I wasn’t sure at the time, thinking maybe I was a switch, but that first session cleared it right up for me.”

  Meaning he wasn’t interested in switching roles between being a scene top and bottom. He was completely dominant.

  I was dying inside at picturing Travis under Clay’s command. Had he been restrained while Clay demonstrated all the sensations the different implements could give? The bite of the clamps? The sting of the paddle?

  The pure fire of the cane?

  I was so turned on, it was uncomfortable, but I pretended I wasn’t affected. “How many sessions have you done?”

  “Two. After the second one, he started to pull away.” His gaze darted away for a moment, then returned to me. “Maybe he felt like he’d shown me as much as he could, but then I got a call from him out of the blue.” He moved subtly closer. “He told me to go to the club that night because he’d be there, and he was bringing someone he wanted me to meet.”

  I sucked in a breath at the memory.

  But his reaction wasn’t the same as mine because his expression twisted with displeasure. “He said I wasn’t allowed to speak to you until he’d introduced us, which if you remember . . .”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Nope. It’s why I was pissed when the scene was over and he made me leave. He didn’t give me any feedback that night either. I didn’t know what to think. For the three of us to have this amazing experience together, and then to have him act like it had no chance of happening again . . . I was so confused. He wouldn’t even tell me your name.”

  “Because he’s so private?” I guessed.

  “Yeah, I thought it was a trust issue.” His mood suddenly lightened. “But a week later he called, apologized, and explained the situation. You were a new submissive, I was a new dom looking for experience, and he’d been enjoying guiding me. We could all get something from this arrangement he was suggesting.” He smiled. “Once again, it was an easy yes.”

  I knew I shouldn’t say it, because I liked him, and it would be better if I didn’t like him. It felt as if there were a time limit on our relationship and admitting my feelings would be pushing the start button on the clock. But it was unavoidable. “I’m glad you said yes.”

  He leaned close, tilting his head down so his mouth hovered right over mine. “Me too.”

  Our kiss wasn’t long, but it contained so much passion, I was buzzing in its aftermath. He was too, although his was literal. I had a hand on his hip and felt the phone vibrate in his pocket.

  He checked the email and visibly brightened.

  “Good news?” I asked.

  “Yeah. One of the trainers giving me an update on a ring-tailed lemur. Jasmina’s twenty-two, which means she’s nearing the end of her life, and we’ve been battling this lingering infection. It’s been resistant to everything I’ve tried so far.” He pocketed his phone and looked relaxed. “But the new medication seems to be working. She ate all of her food and has been more active today.”

  “Oh, that is good.”

  He smiled like he was recalling a memory. “She’s a handful. Lemurs are female-dominant and Jasmina’s the matriarch of the troop, so I’m sure she’s anxious to get back on exhibit and keep everyone in line.”

  “How long do lemurs usually live?”

  “In captivity? Between twenty to twenty-five years. She’s
a special girl, but I don’t know how much longer she’ll have a good quality of life. It’s been hard watching her struggle with this stubborn infection.”

  “I get the feeling,” I said softly, “you’re especially close with her.”

  His eyes read guilty as charged. “Jasmina was my first patient when I took up my residency at the zoo, and you know what they say. You always remember your first.”

  God, the way he looked at me. I smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, trying not to think about how we were each other’s firsts in our unconventional relationship.

  “So, anyway,” he continued, “I know it’s a fight I’m eventually going to lose, but I’m going to keep trying anyway.”

  He held my gaze for a long moment and my heart slowed to a stop. Was he talking about Jasmina . . . or me?

  “Lilith!” Cassidy came at me so fast, she nearly ran into me. Her eyes were glassy and full of laughter. “You’re next.”

  “For what?”

  She flung a finger toward the center of the ring and the empty saddle that waited.

  Travis chuckled, but I shook my head. No matter how good of balance I thought I possessed, I had zero desire to flop down on the mat in front of a bar full of strangers. Which was kind of hilarious when I thought about it. I’d had no issue letting people watch as Travis fucked me at Eros.

  But that was different. People hadn’t been rooting to see me fail like they would here.

  “I’m going to pass,” I said.

  But she didn’t want to take no for an answer. Her warm hand wrapped around my wrist, but when she tugged me toward the entrance, I stayed rooted to the ground.

  Travis nodded and a wide, unhelpful grin smeared across his face. “I think you should do it.”

  “You first,” I shot back at him.

  Greg appeared at Cassidy’s side, handing her a glass of what looked like ice water. “Preston’s getting ready to go next.”

  “Oh, this I gotta see,” I said, turning my attention back to the ring.