Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (21 page)

Nick and Hilary exchanged a nervous smile with each other.

“The story that they tell is while they were in college, Hilary and her friend Katie were walking home from the library late at night, and discovered Nick. He’d lost his wallet outside just a few minutes before, and asked them to help him look. While doing this, Hilary stepped off the curb and twisted her ankle, and Nick had to carry her back to the dorm. They didn’t find his wallet, but they found each other instead.”

A smile twisted on his lips, and I took a deep breath. Seeing him stand up there, all eyes on him yet so comfortable, was intoxicating.

“It’s a nice story, but they leave out some critical details.” His smile grew into a grin, while the nervous one on Nick’s lips started to fade. “Nick didn’t lose his wallet. He’d seen Katie and Hilary getting ready to leave and devised the ‘lost wallet’ story because he wanted to get her number. Not Hilary’s, but Katie’s.”

You could hear all of the heads turn to face Hilary, to see if this was a revelation. Her smile said it wasn’t.

“Hilary wasn’t about to let that happen. She’d had her eye on my brother from the moment he got to the library, and so she made a story of her own, a not-really-twisted ankle. That allowed her to hang on my brother for the next twenty minutes, and I think after the first ten he was in love with her.”

Adorable.

“So, I want to toast to the new Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Stone. To finding each other,” he said. Then, his eyes zeroed in on mine, as if speaking directly to me. “To doing
whatever
you have to, to get what you want.”

It was like he’d just poured lava on me.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” His eyes turned playful. “They were both fall-down drunk. The Library is the name of a bar on campus.”

I think people chuckled. Maybe Hilary scoffed at this being revealed. All I could think about was the meaning in his words. Susan leaned over and clinked her glass of champagne against mine when I held it up.

Logan didn’t sit down. He pulled the glass from my hand and set both of ours on the table, took my hand, and tugged me from my seat. I followed him out the door, down a long hallway.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer because I didn’t think he knew. We wandered through an empty bar and then into a darkened office that looked like it wasn’t in use. He shut the door and pressed my back against it, his face an inch from mine.

“I’m over your rule.” Before I could respond, he set his mouth on mine.

Yes. Oh my god, yes.
His kiss was filled with so much longing I gasped against it. His soft lips teased, his tongue slipped into my mouth to stroke mine, and it eased a moan from me. Then, he began to use his hands. One slipped behind my neck to hold me into his kiss while the other closed on my waist so the rest of our bodies could touch.

“Logan,” I tried to get out more between kisses, but the week spent without had made us both hungry to make up for lost time.

“Hmm?” he mumbled. Lips returned to mine, greedy and insistent. Demanding my participation, which I was all too ready to give. My hands clung to him. I wanted to sink inside his skin, to rip his jacket off. To ball my fists in his dress shirt, wrinkle it, and pull it up so I could slide my hands beneath.

He wouldn’t like wrinkles in his shirt. That was the thought that made me go cold. “I have to tell you something,” I said. “April Kelley is here.”

“What?” He’d heard me because he’d gone rigid. “How?”

“She came with her mother.”

He straightened, stepping away, and the desire inside me complained when the heat of his body was gone. His face hardened and soured, layer by layer.

“Did you two talk?” His voice was cold.

“Not really, Chelsea pulled me away.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “What did she say?”

I gave him a rundown of the brief encounter and repeated what Chelsea had told me. “Twelve years?” I asked. “You started dating when you were—”

“Fifteen.”

They’d been kids. “Can I ask what happened?”

“We weren’t right for each other.”

Wasn’t that ultimately the reason all couples broke up? There had to be so much more to the story. How had it taken them twelve years to figure that out? Logan’s face was a total fucking enigma. He seemed to be studying me, and I could sense I had to tread carefully. Now was definitely not the time to go investigating into his backstory.

“Okay. I liked your toast,” I said, hoping it sounded as sincere as I meant it.

He blinked as if stunned at my topic change. Then, he looked pleased. Yes, I was willing to accept another non-answer from him. The pads of his fingers skimmed over my neck, up to cup my face in a hand. He dipped his head to brush his lips across mine.

“Yeah?” he said. “Thanks.” He left his warm hand on my jawline. “Look, I know you probably want to talk about that—”

“It’s fine. You can tell me about it later, when you want to.”

A stunned Logan was so different from any other version. He’d expected me to push, but that wasn’t my way. I had no problem with compromise.

His kiss now was on fire but over too soon. “I have ideas of doing things you’d call highly inappropriate to you right now. But . . .”

“We have to get back.”

He nodded. “I’d like to hold ‘highly inappropriate’ for later. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

“Yes.” I matched his pretend serious tone. “That’s acceptable.”

During dinner he had one hand on my knee beneath the table, at times in a dangerously inappropriate spot. I think he liked the blush he drew out of me whenever it crept too high and I had to shift in my seat to guide it back to my knee.

This wedding was one motherfucking powerful aphrodisiac. During Nick and Hilary’s first dance, I’d turned in my chair to face the dance floor and Logan’s arms slipped around my waist, pulling me to lean back into him. He kissed my bare shoulder right where it met my neck, and I had to bite my lip. Heat sizzled down my body, through every nerve until it reached between my thighs.

The next dance was the bridal party, but the newlyweds let the party choose their own partners. I was on my feet and in his arms a moment later.

“You dance, boss?” I whispered.

“I can slow dance like an eighth-grader, yes.” His hands settled in the small of my back and my arms slid around his shoulders, and we turned slowly in a circle to a sweet love song, our feet shuffling beneath us. As we finished a rotation, there was a scowl painted on April’s pretty face.

I don’t think of myself as a particularly petty person, but I’d finished my glass of champagne and was feeling catty. I curled a hand into his soft hair and turned his face to mine, pressing my lips to his.

He was as into putting on a show as I was. Yet, I’d forgotten how good kissing between us was, and how it had been denied, so it flared wildly, deepening. A hand threaded through my hair and his tongue tasted mine.

“Stop showing us up,” Nick joked.

I hadn’t realized we’d stopped our eighth-grade dancing, or that the bride and groom were right beside us. And now April’s seat was empty.

Besides being fans of booze, Hilary’s family tore up the dance floor. It was a massive pile of sweaty bodies, young and old, shaking it to classic wedding fodder on the hardwood. Logan didn’t dance, nor did either of his brothers. They seemed content to stand in a semi-circle and critique the crowd, each with a drink clasped in hand.

Since he didn’t dance, Logan had no problem farming me out to other men in his family. Uncles, cousins, and his grandfather, who turned out to be the best dancer of the bunch. It was getting late, and I was tiring, dancing with a drunk cousin who wobbled unsteadily, when I glanced over and saw him deep in conversation.

Nick and Garrett were gone. It was just Logan and the blonde, his one and only ex.

Whatever they were talking about, neither of them looked too happy about it. I fought the urge to go and interrupt. But when Blake had shown up drunk at my apartment, Logan had been understanding. I could do the same.

The deejay announced the next song would be the last, and a slow, haunting love song filled the room. April turned away from Logan and thundered off, his gaze moving to me. He approached and held his arms out, wordlessly asking me to dance.

“I didn’t even come close to out-drinking Hilary’s family,” I remarked, my forehead against his neck, fighting the urge to ask about her.

“Are you even buzzing?”

“No, I was too busy,” I scolded. “You could have warned me that you don’t dance.”

“If it helps, you’re a big hit with the family.”

That did help.

“I stole a bottle of champagne from the bar,” he said, “I thought we could have a glass back at the room before I claim my raincheck.”

My pulse jumped. The image of his head between my legs, my fingers tangled in his hair, flashed in my dirty mind. What kind of Logan was I going to get tonight?

It worked out that I was able to drive, because the shuttle to the hotel was full. He couldn’t drive. Even though he’d only had a few drinks, he admitted he rarely drank.

“I got that all out of my system in college, and it’s not good for training,” he said when he climbed into the passenger seat of his own car.

I couldn’t tell he was impaired, but since I hadn’t had a drink in hours, it wasn’t a big deal. The hotel was just down the road, but he glanced over at me at one point when we were stopped at a long light, a weird look crossing his face.

“You don’t like me driving your car,” I said with a wicked tone. Such a control freak, and I loved it.

“Maybe, but it’s not personal. Why are you smiling?”

“Because I like watching you squirm, boss.” For effect, I shifted into neutral and revved the engine. Oh, he really didn’t like that. The minivan beside me looked at us like we were idiots.

“Think I can take them?” I teased.

“Maybe think about the fact that there could be consequences to your actions.” It was another joke that might not be a joke at all. “Think about what I might do to punish you.” There was a gleam in his eye that stole my breath.

The hotel room was about what I expected. A king-sized bed dominated the room, opposite a wardrobe that concealed a TV and mini-bar. As soon as our luggage was in, he went to get ice for the champagne. I sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, undid the straps on my heels, and let my tired feet rest flat on the floor.

What the hell was this feeling in my stomach? Was I . . . nervous?

Things were different now, though. The revelation left me spinning. He’d only been in a relationship with one other person. Sure, he’d slept with way more people, but I’d had five times as many relationships as he had. Who exactly was the more inexperienced one now?

“I’m torn,” I said when he returned with the bucket in hand, “on peeling that tuxedo off of you and making you leave it on.”

All I got was a seductive smile. My insides quivered. Skilled fingers undid the foil and cage on the cork, then put a towel over the top and popped it.

“Not the first bottle of champagne you’ve opened, huh?”

He poured the bubbling liquid into a glass and offered it to me. “No, it’s not.”

It wasn’t all that cold, but it still tasted divine. He poured himself a glass, but didn’t join me on the bed. He leaned against the desk and took a few sips, watching me, curious.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’m just wondering how much longer you’re going to go without asking me about her. I’m impressed you haven’t, but then again, I’m finding new, impressive qualities you’ve got every day.”

It was both sweet and dirty. A compliment with a sexual skew on it.

“I told you that you can tell me what you want, when you want to.”

His eyes warmed and then went serious. “April and I were together for so long, momentum took over. After we made it through the first year of college, we were stuck on a one-way street.” He took a sip of his drink, but his focus never left mine. “Our families went on vacation together, everyone was pressuring us to get married, even though we already felt like we were married. We
fought
like we were married.” He said it hesitantly. “I don’t like to fail. I thought I could make it work.”