Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club #4) by Nikki Sloane Page A

warm. I couldn’t blame it on the two sips of wine. This reaction was all due to him.
    “Hey,” he said, strolling up to us. His focus turned to the couple and he smiled politely. “Thanks for coming.”
    When his gaze flicked back to me, I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip. This had been a bad idea. Messing around with him only made me crave more, and already I was picturing my hands crawling on his bare, inked-up skin.
    Joseph glanced around. “Looks like you have good turnout.”
    Right, the crowd was fucking great. Wall-to-wall people who were problematic to my recording device, but that was irrelevant because the one person I needed hadn’t shown up.
    “Yeah,” Silas said, his voice dipping low, “I’m real pleased with who came.”
    It should have made me roll my eyes, but instead my stomach fluttered.
    “Regan,” he continued, “it’s nice to see you again. How’s the tattoo healing?”
    “Good.”
    Could Joseph and Noemi feel the sexual energy between us? Because it seemed like we were putting it out in waves.
    “Great,” Silas said.
    I stood beside him, feeling awkward, as Joseph and Noemi talked about their plans for redecorating, and the discussion lasted a long while. It seemed weird to excuse myself, and I had no reason to step away, but it was dangerous to remain. I wouldn’t say Joseph was domesticated now, but seeing him settled had a weird effect. It made me wonder what I’d be like domesticated. I’d cared for Matt deeply, but part of me had known from the start we wouldn’t last, so I’d never let him in.
    He hadn’t matched me sexually either, and that was a huge hurdle to overcome. I hadn’t realized just how lopsided we’d been until a tall beast of a man shoved me against a wall and made me come with a rough hand and a dirty mouth.
    What about Silas? He’d wanted to grab dinner. He’d asked Joseph for my number. If I had to describe the type of guy I thought could tame me, I’d describe a man much like Silas. Shit, this was dangerous thinking.
    I’d barely made it one step before he wrapped a hand gently around my shoulder, causing me to flinch. Just his light touch made me ache for more.
    “Where are you slipping off to?” His tone was warm and soft. It made it impossible to stay immune.
    “The restroom?” I lied.
    “Down the hallway, on the right.”
    Once I was shut inside the cramped room, I put my hands on the sink and began to reconsider what my contingency plan should be if Roland didn’t come to the gallery. My hand went to the underwire of my bra where the microphone was threaded, confirming everything was still in place.
    Who was I fucking kidding? The decision had been made the second I’d laid eyes on him tonight. It was a terrible idea, but fuck it. It would be just sex, that was all. One time, I told myself. I’d have to duck back in here after the showing was over and stash the wire in my purse.
    When I exited the bathroom, the crowd had thickened and I didn’t see Joseph or Silas. I took the opportunity to wander the space and survey the art, blending with the crowd.
    Silas had been right. Paulo’s stuff was edgy and dark, and although it wasn’t always obvious, the feel of Chicago was buried in it. In one tall canvas, the buildings were a sickly green with deeper tones in the shadows, hinting something sinister lurked there. The next piece was an older couple sitting on a bench, their faces weary but their hands intertwined. It was a sign of strength and loyalty, and the piece was moving.
    I stepped back to take it in better, only to bump into someone. A man. He turned—
    His eyes filled with pleasant surprise. “Enjoying the show?” Roland asked.
    It was game time. I brightened my expression and pasted on a big smile. “I am. How about you?”
    He nodded, glanced around, and then his focus came back to me. Well, more onto my breasts. “Yes. I don’t think we met last time. Kirk Roland.”
    I shook his extended hand, dialing back my urge to