Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“It was a…” I stop. Because I was going to say it was a one-time thing. But it wasn’t. It was a two-time thing. So far. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“So if it were presented as an option, from Locke, you would deny him?”
“Would I deny him… what?”
“This plural relationship he craves.”
“Is that what he craves?”
“He does. He’s not a one-man anything. He likes variety.”
“Is he seeing any other women?”
“Women? No, I don’t think so.”
“Men?”
“Just me and Olsen, as far as I know. But maybe he has secrets.”
“From you?”
Mercer smiles, then pulls the car to the curb in front of his building. He turns it off and we sit there for a moment, just looking at each other. “I don’t think he keeps any secrets from me. But he keeps many from you.”
I process this. But it’s not enough to diminish my infatuation with Locke. Then I remember that Patricia called him Michael. “His real name is Michael.”
Mercer studies me for several long seconds. “Yes. You didn’t know that?”
I shake my head, unable to speak because he’s staring at me intently.
“Michael Locke.” Pause. Then he’s getting out. “Stay put, Nova.”
I watch him walk around the front of the car, then accept his hand when he opens my door and offers it to me. I step out, and we go up the steps, and my stomach begins to flutter wildly.
I don’t know why. We did all the sexy icebreaker things this afternoon. There’s nothing to be nervous about.
But there’s no way I believe that lie.
Silas Mercer is a big question mark. And maybe I don’t know him well, but I do know one thing—he likes the unexpected.
We take the elevator up to the top floor in silence. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking. Like he knows I’m nervous.
When the elevator stops he opens the gate and waves me forward into the dark apartment. There is just a bit of hazy light that leaks in past the sheer curtains, which are now drawn over the windows.
Mercer puts his hand on the small of my back and leans in to my neck. “We’re going to my room this time.” And he leads me though the darkness to the other side of the large living room.
He opens the door, urges me to take a step forward, and then flips on the lights.
Locke is sitting in a chair in front of the windows. Glass of whiskey in hand. Shirtless. Smirking.
“Locke,” I say.
He stands up, walks over to me, puts one hand on my hip, leans in to my neck, and threads his fingers through my hair. “Surprise.” He whispers it into my ear.
And then Mercer is behind me, pressing his chest up against my back. He whispers into my other ear. “I figured you might like more physical connection than I’m offering. So I left an invitation for Locke to join us on my pillow this morning. I hope you don’t mind.”
Wow. ‘On my pillow’, he said. So Locke was in his bed this morning. Or Mercer was in Locke’s bed. Either way, they were in bed together because a note was left in Mercer’s place.
I will need to think long and hard about all those words. Later, though. Because a shiver is crawling its way up my spine. The shiver pauses and the moment hangs. Then it bursts out on my skin as goosebumps.
Mercer’s laugh is nothing more than a breath in my ear. “Question answered,” he says, once again tickling my skin into a reaction.
Locke is in front of me, sliding the backs of his fingers down my cheek. He leans down and just barely—just the slightest bit of contact—kisses me, before pulling back, his hands already traveling down my body. “I have so many questions for you,” he says.
“Question are for weekdays, Locke.”
Locke tips his head up to find Mercer. And then Mercer places a hand on Locke’s cheek and he kisses him.
And I swear to God, it’s like he’s kissing me. Or like Locke is kissing me. Because it’s the same kind of kiss. The all-encompassing, seriously passionate, and erotic kiss that I’ve come to crave since that first morning when Locke beckoned me into this dream world of pleasure.
Mercer’s mouth opens and Locke’s is right there to meet him. They go slow at first. And I get lost in this motion. Like the back-and-forth rocking of a boat, or a cradle, or treetop in the wind. Then Mercer’s kiss becomes more urgent. And when I look down, he’s got Locke’s hand and he’s placing it over his own groin area. Locke immediately begins grabbing at him, caressing the huge bulge against his upper thigh. I close my eyes when Mercer presses his hip into me, pushing me into Locke’s. Including me in their hungry lust.
It hits me. A new realization.