Bait & Switch Read online

  With a wicked grin, she turned toward me and held up her arms, showing the not-quite-faded marks on her wrists. “This is all the proof I need.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Daniella had an insatiable appetite for rough sex—biting and clawing, spanking and paddling, nipple clamps, hot wax, butt plugs, and especially bondage. Everything I knew about BDSM, I had learned from her.

  Knowing that she was right and I needed to get moving, I headed down the hall to my own bedroom. When I opened the door, the fat English bulldog on my bed woke up with a wheezy snort. One look at me and he started grumbling for attention.

  “Hey there, buddy,” I said, rubbing his wrinkled back. “Have a nice nap?”

  Sutton stared up at me dolefully. He was lying so flat that his face was sunken almost entirely into his jowls.

  “Sorry, man. It’s gotta be this way.”

  I’d learned to shut Sutton in his bedroom while Daniella and I were playing. She wasn’t fond of the drooling, farting beast, and a cold wet nose on the ass would kill anyone’s mood. So I always coddled and reassured Sutton afterward to make up for the missed attention.

  After a few minutes of my petting and praising him with a steady stream of nonsense talk, the old dog was grinning and wiggling like a puppy. I finished with a couple of hard pats on the flank, and then swept my hand in a shoo gesture.

  “Okay, now go. I need to get the hell out of here.”

  Sutton jumped off the bed with a heavy thud. He lumbered into the living room, favoring his bad hip, puffing and blowing as he tottered along unevenly.

  As I got dressed for a night out, my thoughts drifted back to Lacey.

  • • •

  West’s Watering Hole wasn’t a swanky joint. It was the kind of casual place you came when you wanted a stiff drink and to relax among the local twenty-somethings. No frills. No fuss. Metal bar stools and wood floors, and low lighting to keep the mood relaxed.

  I nodded at my friend and former teammate, West, who was playing barback tonight. He blended in so seamlessly with the bar staff, you’d never guess he owned the place.

  West tipped his head, acknowledging me with a grunt. He was a grumpy ass, but I was guessing that a woman—or two—could help take that scowl off his face. That was something West would have to figure out on his own, though. No sense getting my boxers in a twist over another man’s problems.

  From the quiet corner where I’d grabbed a table for two, I ventured a glance to the door. Lacey was standing there, her eyes wide as her gaze wandered the room. When I rose to my feet, she spotted me and darted over. I took a moment to appreciate the view as she approached. Soft porcelain skin, shiny dark hair, a tight little body I wanted to hold down and fuck.

  She looked up at that moment, and I was thankful the pornographic images playing through my brain weren’t being broadcast through the bar. Every guy in here had noticed her, which was evidenced by the sudden hush when she passed the pool tables, and the heads turning as she walked by. Lacey was a bombshell, but in a quiet, girl-next-door sort of way.

  Grinning stupidly, I accepted her hand when she neared and pulled her in for a hug. She smelled incredible.

  “Thanks for meeting me tonight,” she murmured, her voice soft, her gaze resting at my feet.

  Damn, she was gorgeous. “’Course, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes found mine as she slid into her seat. It was a good thing I’d already ordered us drinks, remembering her preferences from the first time we’d met, because her smile left me speechless.

  There was something captivating about the woman.

  It wasn’t just her petite hourglass build, or the way her gaze drifted away from mine when she spoke of her past, or the curious way she watched me over the rim of her margarita glass. No, it wasn’t something I could put my finger on, which made me all the more interested. She was a walking contradiction. A bright smile and sweet personality, but with a secret darkness lingering in her eyes. Sharp and inquisitive, yet naive. Kind, yet guarded.

  Even her name suited her in a weird way. Lacey. Something delicate and intricate, pure white, beautiful because of the skill and patience it demanded. Something that could be damaged or destroyed if you weren’t careful.

  We’d covered all the basics the first time we met. She was twenty-three, originally from Oklahoma. I was twenty-seven, a Texas boy born and bred. She had one younger sister, while I was an only child. My SEAL teammates were the only brothers I needed.

  “What did you do today?” she asked.

  I filled her in on my volunteer work with the troubled-teen camp about an hour and a half outside of Dallas.

  “This kid Martinez is so close, you know? If he pushed himself, if he really believed, he’d have the chance at an athletic scholarship. He’d do damn fine in the military too. And he doesn’t see it.”

  “Your work there sounds very gratifying.”

  I smirked at her. “It is. When I can get the little pencil-dicks to listen.”

  She laughed and took another sip of her icy drink, her eyes lingering on mine over the rim of the glass. It seemed she liked what she saw—and not just the outside package, like most women. She admired me, my work. It felt . . . nice.

  If I were smarter, I might have been on high alert about why she was suddenly here in this small town, batting those fuck-me eyes at me. My cock, however, didn’t give a flying fuck about such things. I wanted to be buried six ways from Sunday inside this gorgeous new woman. And with any luck, I would be.

  But my situation required a little more finesse than most men’s. I had absolutely no plans to change my arrangement with Daniella, and Lacey didn’t seem like the type for one-night stands or booty calls.

  The contrast between them made my cock ache. Daniella was tall and elegant and tranquil—at least, until bondage unleashed her wild side. Lacey was little and restless and curvy under her unassuming clothes. I imagined picking her up like a toy and fucking her against a wall. I’d traded grueling SEAL workouts for a more reasonable routine, but my body was still cut to rival any gym rat’s, and I would be able to hold up Lacey through orgasm after orgasm. Until she sagged in my arms, finally calm.

  The two women couldn’t have been more different. Where one was dark, with her ravenous sexual cravings and wicked pleasures, the other was light with her innocent smile and guarded reactions. But she still had that gleam in her eye like she was interested in a little fun.

  What would she feel like, her small, voluptuous body moving over mine as she rode my thick length? Would she rock slowly back and forth, or bounce on me hard and fast? Would she make soft mewling whimpers or scream out her pleasure?

  “What about you? Do you live alone?” Lacey was asking.

  I hadn’t been paying attention. Was she implying that she wanted to go back to my place?

  I shook my head, more at myself than her. Fuck, man, slow down. I needed to rein in my libido. If I didn’t concentrate on the conversation here, the real Lacey would never turn into my naked, writhing fantasy.

  “No, I’ve got one roommate,” I replied. “But she works weird hours, so I have the place to myself a lot.”

  “Did you say she?” After a moment’s pause, Lacey asked, “Is she your . . . friend?”

  I knew what she really wanted to ask, and I wasn’t ashamed of the answer. So it was high time to cut to the chase and give her full disclosure.

  “Sort of. Our situation is unconventional,” I said. “We are friends . . . who also sleep together sometimes. But we’re not exclusive.”

  Lacey blinked, her expression unreadable. Was she offended? Disgusted? Or was she just startled and taking a minute to process everything?

  “I’m telling you this so there’s no confusion or hurt feelings down the road. If you’re not interested in me anymore, I understand completely. But Daniella’s an important part of my life.”

  Another slow, big-eyed blink. Just as I started preparing for her to freak out, she replied, “So long as you don’t expect me to have a threesome, we’re cool.” And then she sipped at her margarita, as casual as could be.

  My eyebrows raised slightly. Well, hell. That had gone better than expected. The good girl just kept on surprising me. But despite her airy tone, I could tell she had opinions that she was keeping to herself.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking, Lacey,” I said, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

  The last thing I wanted was a lover who acted chill, trying to be someone she wasn’t, until she couldn’t keep a lid on her resentment anymore.

  Chapter Two

  Lacey

  Taking a sip of my margarita, I fought to maintain a neutral expression, even while my stomach had jumped into my throat and the lime from my drink burned like acid on my tongue.

  When the dangerously sexy man seated before me admitted that he had another lover, my first instinct was to abort. Run, common sense demanded. The restless side of me, however, was willing to hear him out.

  An open relationship was not conventional in my world. Things like this didn’t happen where I was from. At least, not that I was aware of. But I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, or even monogamy. So I put on my best open-minded expression and listened to what he had to say.

  Hearing him talk about her, though, it was clear that she had a special place in his life. I didn’t understand it yet, but the woman obviously filled a unique role.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking, Lacey,” Nolan said.

  My name on his lips was like a soft plea. There was no way I could lie to him—at least, not about this—even if I’d wanted to. He was every bit the firm-tempered alpha male I dreamed he might be. Former military special forces, decorated in combat, and now a civilian, but certainly not soft.

  “It’s an unusual arrangement, but as long as you’re up front with everything, I don’t see any harm.” I didn’t know if my words were the complete truth, but who was I to judge his situation? I had plenty of baggage of my own.

  I supposed it was no different from most casual dating situations these days. Men and woman often explored various relationships, multiple partners before settling down, and at least Nolan wasn’t doing it behind anyone’s back.

  As I watched him take another sip of his drink, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to illicit things. Like the way his strong arms might feel around me, the way his lips might feel on mine. The intensity rolling off him in waves, even his scent—the perfect combination of cologne and mild soap—made my heart beat like a drum.

  “And all of this, it’s . . . cool with her? Your friend, I mean.” I stumbled over my words, my lack of experience with the situation shining through.

  “Daniella is definitely cool with me having other fucks, yes.” He chuckled softly, as if I’d missed some inside joke or dark reference. “But something tells me you’re not a one-night, fuck-hard-and-leave type of girl.”

  I swallowed, my throat tightening as his words washed over me. The leave part, not so much, but the fuck hard part . . . that sounded pretty good right now.

  “No, I guess I’m not. If there’s enough passion and connection between two people, why should it end at one night?”

  Setting down his now-empty glass of whiskey, Nolan leaned closer. His expression was amused. “Looking at you, I couldn’t agree more. I haven’t properly dated in a long damn time, but you have me . . . intrigued.”

  “So we’ll take it slow. Friends,” I added. There was no sense rushing into this. I needed time to feel him out. Make sure I had done the right thing by coming here.

  “Might be hard to be friends with someone I want under me.”

  I blinked at him.

  “I want you in my bed, Lacey. No use denying it.” His thumb slid across the rim of his glass, the movement innocent, yet suggestive at the same time.

  After I got over the initial shock of his blunt words, I appreciated his straightforward attitude. The man certainly didn’t try to hide things.

  “What makes you think I’m ever going to be in your bed?” I asked, my gaze steady and holding his.

  “I know what you’re doing,” he murmured.

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned closer, placing his elbows on the table, invading more of my space. “Playing hard to get. You know as well as I do that men like the chase.”

  “So you’re really just a predator. No better than a caveman.”

  His gaze cut through me like a knife. “Instinct tells us to seek, hunt, and—”

  “Fuck,” I interrupted, knowing full well what was on his mind. The bar’s warm atmosphere and the tequila coursing through my veins had apparently loosened my tongue.

  “Exactly, Lacey. It’s nature. Not a thing I can do about it.” The hint of humor in his voice kept me from arguing my point further.

  “Uh-huh,” I simply supplied.

  It seemed that the man who volunteered his weekends to help troubled teens had quite the dirty mouth. I was starting to glimpse his many sides, and I wanted to uncover more of those contrasts and angles. I could honestly say I’d never met a man like him.

  He smiled at me and signaled to our waitress for another round. “So, what is it that you do?”

  It was strange how we knew so little about each other, yet our connection already felt as deep and wide as the Mississippi. Tension and interest crackled between us, just out of reach.

  “I’m the new part-time assistant at the animal shelter across town. The pay isn’t great and the hours kind of suck, but I enjoy it.”

  The cheery tone in my voice disguised my disenchantment. I loved animals, and I was happy to have a job there, but the ten dollars an hour and facility that constantly smelled of poop was a far cry from my previous life.

  I’d graduated with a degree in finance last year and landed at a great firm straight out of school, making good money. I’d worn designer suits, treated myself to pedicures and silky lingerie, escaped winter’s doldrums with extravagant beach vacations. I’d dreamed of working my way up to finance manager. But all that was on hold for the time being.

  It was just money, I reminded myself. I had everything I needed to live, and no more.

  “An animal lover?” he asked.

  “Guilty,” I said, smiling.

  Nolan shook his head, chuckling. “I’m not allowed back in that place.” At my confused expression, he continued. “It’s more of a self-imposed ban. I adopted Sutton two years ago, but could have easily left with as many dogs and cats as would have fit into my truck.”

  I knew just what he meant. All the animals there deserved a good home. “And what’s Sutton like?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  “He’s an English bulldog. Ornery as shit, missing a few teeth, and he has a bad hip, but he’s mine.”

  I warmed at the image. So far, Nolan had been anything but what I was expecting. A bit presumptuous and rough around the edges, lacking the discipline I might have expected from an ex-SEAL. By his own account, he was living life according to his brain’s pleasure center. Women. Whiskey. And apparently a penchant for bulldogs. That last thought made me smile.

  “What do you like to do in your free time?” he asked, drawing me back to the moment.

  I shrugged. “Nothing too crazy. Decorating my place with unique flea-market finds . . . silk throw pillows, pretty black and white prints. I enjoy hunting out forgotten treasures like that. Oh, and I love college football. I went to Oklahoma, so . . .” I hid a smirk, knowing their huge rivalry with Texas.

  He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Don’t tell me you’re a Sooners fan?”

  I grinned back at him. It was too easy. “You think I’m going to automatically root for the Longhorns just because I moved to Texas?”

  “No, I’d expect you to root for them because they’re the best damn team in the country.”

  That made me chuckle. I knew what people saw when they looked at me. A fresh face with only minimal makeup, a long chocolate-colored braid hanging over one shoulder, a pair of faded jeans, a conservative cotton top that didn’t show even a hint of cleavage. He probably had me pegged as a stereotypical good girl.

  Something inside me wanted to prove him wrong, to show him I was not only okay with his situation, but open and curious. Prove to him that whatever he could dish out, I could take it.

  Still, I couldn’t blame him for how I must have seemed. My entire appearance screamed innocence and propriety. It was the way I’d been raised. As the only child of a single, very old-fashioned father, modesty had been drilled into me from a young age, and there was nothing I could do to change it now. Which was fine.

  This was the way I was most comfortable anyhow, and it had never stopped me from attracting male attention before. But as I glanced around at the women in the bar, with their low-cut sequined tops and sling-back heels, I realized Nolan could have his pick of the litter. And there were clearly more enticing choices than me, yet his eyes didn’t wander, his gaze didn’t stray from mine even once. It sent a warm ripple of pleasure down my spine.

  “Maybe we’ll catch a game sometime,” he offered. His voice was low and laced with suggestion.

  “Maybe we will.” I lowered my gaze to my salt-rimmed glass on the table, wondering exactly what might unfold with this mystery man in the coming weeks.

  From his broad shoulders to his don’t fuck with me or mine attitude, everything about him screamed protector. I had grown up idolizing my father, thinking that his defining traits—stoic, dutiful, protective, dominant—were what made the perfect man.

  Seeing those same qualities in Nolan lit something inside me. It was more than admiration, if the sudden pounding of my heart was any indication. Raw heat radiated between us. His conversation might have been casual, but the amusement in his eyes as he watched me was provocative and sexual. My body answered with a hearty hell yeah, my panties dampening as I shifted in my seat.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Nolan reached for my hand, and I placed my palm against his in silent agreement.

  Common sense flying out the window, I was going to ride this wave and see where it took me.

  -->