Get Off Easy (Noble House, #1) (6 page)

Her head rested against Boyce’s strong shoulder, while Saint had pulled her legs across his lap. For the past ten minutes, he’d been idly sweeping his thumb over her ankle. Each time he did, she felt a slow throb between her legs. An anchoring of her soul.

A side effect of the tequila.

Right?

A few minutes later, Boyce began playing with her hair. Slow, soft strokes that were mesmerizing. Drawing her under while lifting her higher. She coasted up, floating high and free. Drifting. Her senses dulled so each slow draw of Boyce’s fingers through her hair sent her deeper.

The screen in front of her began to blur. The heat kindling inside her grew, expanding out and collecting where the two men touched her as the movie continued. The air around her felt thick as her world fragmented. The only thing that existed for her was the cloud of sensation Boyce was dragging her along.

Where she was warm and safe.

Where she lived in a place where this type of arrangement was perfectly acceptable.

The way they touched her, caressed her was the sort of connection she’d always longed for. The kind she’d thought only happened in fairy tales. The happily ever after she wanted was complicated and tangled. A maze of feelings where there was no end.

These men were the first ones to make her believe anything was possible.

Too bad that world didn’t truly exist.

Saint stretched his neck as the credits began to roll. It had been a while since they’d done a bad movie marathon, but it was nice to sit idle for a few hours. The company was fabulous too. A great ending to a day that had started out so shitty.

As he tended to do, Saint was worried about Boyce. The moments of happiness were coming few and far between lately. It was as though Boyce was there, but not fully. Like Boyce felt as though he needed to maintain his distance because he didn’t want to worry those who cared for him.

When Saint glanced over to Boyce, emotion caught in his throat. Grae’s head nested in Boyce’s lap, her eyes closed, and she wore an expression of sheer bliss on her pretty, heart-shaped face. The lines of worry Saint had noticed when he’d found her at the front door had smoothed. He still wasn’t sure why she’d shown up so unexpectedly, but he’d learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better not to question.

Going with the flow wasn’t always his way, but he was adaptable.

Boyce trailed his fingers over her temple, occasionally sweeping her hair back. They were both settled deep, and the state had nothing to do with alcohol.

Christ, they’re gorgeous.

The stress and tension that held Boyce’s muscles strained for most of the day had melted away, giving way to an open honesty that had become rarer and rarer these days. Every time Boyce seemed to make progress, something happened, and he stumbled. Saint was always there to catch him. Without fail. Just like he always would be. While he didn’t mind, he wanted Boyce whole again.

Or at least less like the shadow he’d been since returning from the war.

“She’s deep.”

“So are you,” Saint responded quietly, noting the husky tone of Boyce’s voice.

“She’d be a joy to take down fully. Properly.” Boyce glanced up. “You’re wearing that stupid grin you get. The shit eatin’ one when you know something nobody else does.”

Saint’s grin widened. “Been a while since you’ve talked about taking a sub into subspace. You’ve been leaving it up to me. Not that I’m complaining. I quite enjoy it. But I enjoy watching you putting a sub under more.”

Saint knew he would love watching Boyce purposefully work to put Grae under. If she even agreed to such a thing. If he’d been better educated during college, he may have been able to tell. Looking back now with his experience level what it was, she’d always exhibited shades of submission during daily activities.

During the one night they’d all shared?

Yeah, even then.

But that didn’t mean it had carried on into adulthood.

Though he’d caught the telling downcast of her eyes when he’d beckoned her into the apartment. He’d even observed the way she’d immediately sat down when Boyce had firmly ordered her to. There were still threads of subservience in her. The question was whether or not she celebrated them.

If Grae was the glue that brought Boyce back together fully, made him himself again, Saint was willing to take a backseat. Anything for Boyce.

Anything at all.

Saint carefully lifted Grae’s legs, sliding closer to the pair and fitting against them like a puzzle piece. As he settled into place next to Boyce, Grae groaned quietly. Saint set a gentle hand on her stomach, waiting until her breathing had settled into a pattern again. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah. It is. I want her, but she’s not ours. Probably doesn’t even realize she’s under.”

“Probably not. Nothing wrong with enjoying the moment.” Saint slipped his hand behind Boyce’s neck. Boyce didn’t resist when Saint pulled closer and tucked Boyce’s head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Boyce said carefully and quietly. “For losing my shit at the club. For pulling away when you were just trying to help. I know not to, but sometimes...”

“I know, babe. I know.” Saint touched his lips to Boyce’s, tasting the tang of the tequila as he slowly swept his tongue into Boyce’s mouth. As superficial as it sounded, Saint wanted a piece of their high. With a rush, he realized he wanted to put them in those places as well. Drop into Domspace himself while they basked in their own moments.

He wanted to watch them together. Join. Dance. Mate. He wanted to connect with them. Complete them. No. That had to be the tequila talking. Still...as obscure as those thoughts sounded, they sounded really good as well.

Damn good.

It was a pipe dream. Grae wasn’t theirs. Undoubtedly, she didn’t realize how easily she’d slipped into subspace. Or even knew what subspace was. They’d had their one night fling in college. And there hadn’t been a lick of power exchange involved.

What it had been was a crazy, stumbling and bumbling dance that all made them seem like virgins. But then when the energy flowing between them had clicked...oh, the magic they had made. It was a perfection Saint believed he and Boyce hadn’t repeated since. Even with all the partners they’d shared, there had only been the one time with Grae.

And now they had a chance to find it again.

If they could just convince her that what they’d shared years ago was far from over.

T
he throbbing resonance of a drum-laden song was the first thing Grae heard when she stepped out of her car. She checked her watch. Late. Nothing new really. Most of the people she dealt with on a daily basis ran on their own schedules. As though they were convinced the world revolved around them.

Her video meeting had run late because the director of the film believed he owned Hollywood. Given how much his last release had pulled in, everyone let him do as he pleased. Money really did rule the world. And since she was going to get a good chunk of it because of the contract she’d negotiated a few years back, she was willing to compromise.

The morning after her visit with the guys had resulted in her waking up on their couch, curled in a ball under a warm, fuzzy chenille blanket. Her head remained cradled in Boyce’s lap, her legs draped across Saint’s thighs. Boyce’s head had been resting against Saint’s shoulder.

They’d made a nice, neat package.

For a few seconds, drifting along in a dreamy state, she’d been convinced she was home. Safe and cosseted. Secure. But startling clarity had come the second she’d realized she was far, far away from her house, and the city she’d fallen in love with.

Yes, her career choice meant she could work virtually anywhere in the world. But their lives where here and hers...was not. She’d shelved the sobering fact those miles existed for a reason.

When they’d all be more alert, they’d shared coffee, scones, and more talk about what they’d all been up to. Lively conversation had flowed easily, eroding Grae’s concerns about shoving her way back into their lives.

At least some of them.

If she had any sense about her, she wouldn’t let the door hit her on the ass as she left.

Even though she kept insisting that she needed to get back home, they’d kept insisting she needed to stick around. They’d been so damn charming. Which was how she’d ended up accepting their invitation to join them at a local club to hear a band they’d raved about. Though she was determined tonight would be the last time she’d see them.

They were fine. Their relationship was fine.

And from the sound of things, their sex life was fine as well.

Silly of her to rush halfway across the state. The men had enough problems to face without butting her way in.

As she crossed the parking lot, she checked her cell phone. Three emails from the director she’d just left, a solicitation from a local computer shop she dealt with, and an ad from Noble House for a special deal on membership prices. No response to the message she sent telling Saint and Boyce she was running late. Not as though she expected them to be at her beck and call.

The bouncer gave her the once over before he jerked his chin toward the door.

Nice to know she passed the nonthreatening check.

The lighting inside the club wasn’t much brighter than outside. Odd. Not as though she had expected the guys to hang out in some swanky bar. But she hadn’t expected some dive either. Though
dive
was giving this place more credit than it deserved. Everything seemed clean enough. And every bar seat was filled with patrons wearing outfits that ranged from bad boy biker to tedious executive who just walked out of the boardroom.

Maybe not as much of a dive bar as she thought.

Most of the tables and booths lining the wall were filled as well, with everyone attentively watching the band on the raised stage in the corner. A spotlight gleamed on the polished cymbal that glinted every time the man behind the drum kit hit his stick against it.

As she looked closer, she realized she knew that drummer.

Kochran Duke.

Well now, that was quite the surprise. And explained why Saint and Boyce were here tonight. A sudden thought occurred to her, one that sent a slice of panic racing through her. Did the guys know she was a member of Noble House? No way was she going to offer that information up on a silver platter.

But they hadn’t said anything. So maybe she was in the clear.

The statuesque woman on the center of the stage waved to the crowd. “We want to thank you all for coming out tonight. As our thanks, we want to play a little something for you that we just finished polishing.”

A loud cheer erupted as the band broke into song. A slow, haunting ballad about a life that ended too soon.

Grae heard her name shouted from the corner and kept her gaze on the band as she made her way over to the booth. Saint and Boyce waited for her at a table with a scattering of empty beer bottles. They’d been here for a bit, reminding her how she’d gotten tied up and kept them waiting.

Grae winced. “Sorry I’m late. Meeting ran over.” Most of what she said was lost, drowned out by the lead singer. Grae sat back, listening as the lead singer smoothly transitioned from the slow strains of the memorial song to a fast paced, animalistic melody about sex between friends.

Regardless of the song, it was clear the chick could wail.

Since there was no point in trying to keep up a conversation, she decided to enjoy the show. The band moved from hard grinding beats that could blow eardrums to a slow melodic love song that spoke about pain and heartbreak. Though Grae wasn’t any sort of music aficionado, she had heard plenty of music in her day thanks to the millions of music scores in movies.

Duality was good.

Really good.

Worldwide good.

Grae was curious as to why they’d chosen to play in some hole-in-the-wall bar that no one had ever heard of. Maybe they were just getting started? Though, the way they all flowed together spoke of a group who’d been together a long time.

When her gaze finally landed on Kochran, she watched him with keen interest. His focus was deadly. He hit every note, never showboating despite his obvious talent. An hour into the set, sweat sheened his well-muscled arms and dripped from his brown hair. His biceps flexed and bunched as he banged on the drums with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Who needed a gym when you could bang a workout on the drum set?

She joined patrons in a well-deserved round of applause when the band finished their set and announced they’d return in twenty minutes with more tunes. As she turned her focus away from the stage and to the two men sitting with her, she realized both were dressed in jeans tonight. Though Saint’s were the faded, well-lived in kind, and Boyce’s were so dark they were nearly black.

How the two men could change things up between them so effortlessly amazed her.

“Did you have trouble finding the place?”

“Meeting ran over.”

Saint shrugged. “As long as you’re here now.”

“I didn’t realize—” She broke off when she recognized what she’d been about to say would incriminate her. Couldn’t very well say she hadn’t known the owner of Noble House played percussion in a band. If she didn’t watch her tongue, she wouldn’t have to worry about Kochran outing her. “That the bar would be this small. Or this packed.”