Three Little Mistakes by Nikki Sloane

Author:Nikki Sloane [Sloane, Nikki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance, The Blindfold Club, Book 3
Published: 2015-08-03T16:00:00+00:00

chapter

SEVENTEEN

JOSEPH

Fuck no, I didn’t want to leave this bed. I was tired and Noemi might experience sub drop after the out of control scene I’d just put her through. But the biggest reason? I didn’t fucking want to let go of her. It was unnerving how strong the desire to hold her was.

Part of my responsibility was taking care of her. Whatever she wanted, after what I’d done. I’d drive my Porsche through a blizzard to get her mint chocolate chip ice cream if that was what she asked for. My lack of control had crossed over from annoying to downright dangerous. We never discussed a safe word or boundaries. I never asked her hard limits. What if she had asthma or some other medical condition I didn’t know about? I was fucking lucky I hadn’t hurt her, and my stomach turned at the thought.

Her soft hair smelled like coconut, and her skin like vanilla. The combination made me weak. I ripped my gaze away from her and evaluated the room instead. Our smears were on the floor-length mirror from where she’d braced herself with her arms. Watching the belt choke her while I fucked her from behind was scorching hot. I’d remember it forever. How she’d looked when the orgasm took her.

The room wasn’t overtly feminine, but had a woman’s touch. Like the living room, it was a collection of mismatched furniture. Patterns worked with stripes, oversized paired with petite. The proportions were just right, and a common theme held the space together—in this room it was a pale yellow. A careful hand had put it together and although it wasn’t what I’d pick, it was pleasing and comfortable.

“I like this room.” My voice was quiet. “Your decorator’s got talent.”

“My—?” She looked confused. “I don’t use a decorator. I did it myself.” A shy smile broke on her face. “You like it? I’ve been told it’s too busy.”

“No, it’s nice. It doesn’t look . . . generic. It looks like you.”

Her eyes blinked wide and turned warm. “Thanks. I could say the same of your place. All heavy pieces and sharp lines. Rigid.” Her fingertips glided over the tattoo, following the curved lines. “It’s very you.”

“Should be. I did it.” I took pride in my home, making the space my own.

She laughed as if something amused her.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing lasts forever,” she read. “Except, you know, a permanent tattoo.” Her fingers continued to trace the contours.

“Do I need to give you and my tattoo a moment alone?”

She grinned. “Could you? That’d be great.”

We lapsed into lazy silence, and again I was struck by how natural it felt. Normal, when it was anything but for me. She shivered subtly, so I sat up and yanked her fluffy comforter around us. Talking about decorating, snuggling under the covers . . . who the fuck was I around her? Why did I kind of like this?

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sort of thirsty.”

“Me, too. What do you want?”

“There’s a pitcher of some red .

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