“Yeah, I told her everything. Well, maybe not everything. But she got the gist of it.”
Judging by Lacey’s brief moment of shock on our first date, my love life was hard enough to wrap her head around without adding BDSM into the mix. And she didn’t need to know all of our private details right now, anyway. If the moment called for an explanation later, I’d give her the short version.
“She said she was fine with it as long as I didn’t expect any threesomes.”
“I’m sure that broke your slutty heart into a million pieces,” Daniella remarked dryly.
“Careful. You shouldn’t insult the guy who holds the whip around here.” I gave her a predatory grin.
She pretended to glare back, then laughed, and I chuckled too.
Daniella wasn’t acting nosy, even though she was probably curious about Lacey, and I was grateful for that. I knew she wouldn’t read too much into my words.
Unlike certain other friends. Damn Greyson . . .
I liked Greyson a lot; he was the only other ex-SEAL at Redstone. I’d stayed close with our former team—West, Shaw, and Ryder—but Grey and I still worked together every day, so I was more in tune with him than the others.
But even though we always steered clear of each other’s buried skeletons, his butting in about the women in my life could still get annoying. Greyson sometimes gave advice whether anyone wanted it or not, which made me feel like a fix-it project.
I started to untie my shoes, then paused, realizing I still needed to buy some food and liquor for that weekend’s game. “I’m going back out to stock up for Saturday. Want me to grab you anything?”
Daniella hummed, considering for a minute. “I don’t know . . . I’ll go with you and see what looks good. I haven’t had dinner yet.” She rolled off the couch and onto her feet, dropping her book on the coffee table. “Let me put on some shoes.”
At the liquor store, we grabbed our customary poison on autopilot—single-malt whiskey for me, wheat ale for Daniella—while debating what kind of beer Lacey might like. Eventually we splurged on a couple of seasonal variety packs.
Then we walked across the street to the supermarket, where we picked up Daniella’s favorite crappy sushi and the same huge frozen pizza we baked for every football game.
She pushed the shopping cart while I threw the items we liked inside. To onlookers, we probably seemed like the perfect picture of domestic bliss, just another happy couple grocery shopping together.
We had done all of this a thousand times before, and there was something comforting in the routine. It seemed like nothing could ever truly shake us up. My life with Daniella was next to perfect. Wasn’t it?
I ignored the gnawing feeling that something wasn’t quite right as Daniella and I made our way to the checkout conveyor.
Chapter Five
Lacey
Nolan’s house was pale brick with dark wooden beams cutting across the exterior to form a masculine arch over the front porch. It was all one story, but appeared roomy nonetheless.
I trotted up the steps at five minutes to three carrying a big platter of smoked brisket, guacamole, and queso, with a bag of tortilla chips tucked under my arm. Nolan had insisted that I didn’t need to bring anything, but my Southern hospitality demanded that I not show up empty-handed. And I might have been putting in a little extra effort because I figured I might meet Daniella today.
I was curious about this “other woman” in Nolan’s life . . . his side piece. Until I realized that she got there first, and so I was actually the side piece.
With a strange feeling dancing in my stomach, I hesitated at his door. Shit. What am I doing here?
Nothing in my life could have prepared me for this moment. Yet here I was, standing at his front door, debating whether to knock.
Just stick to the plan.
Raising my knuckles to the door, I knocked twice.
Nolan opened it, looking as handsome as ever. His deep blue gaze latched onto mine. A warm shiver pulsed through me, bringing awareness once again to the intense attraction I felt toward him. He was dressed casually, in a white T-shirt that clung to his muscled torso, and loose jeans that still hinted at his powerful thighs.
Damn it. Eyes up, Lacey.
Without a word, Nolan allow his gaze to travel down my figure, taking in my casual, yet alluring ensemble, lingering over my breasts, my hips. It seemed he wasn’t the only one being mentally undressed.
I’d paid extra attention when getting ready this morning. Blow-drying my hair so it fell in a thick, straight curtain down my back, slipping into my nicest jeans—dark washed and slim fit to hug the curves of my hips and round ass. My burgundy Oklahoma Sooners T-shirt was just a little too taut over my breasts. It had shrunk the first time I washed it; at the time, I’d gotten upset, but now it seemed that the almost-too-small top was a blessing in disguise.