Page 133 of Love By Design

More than okay, sweetheart

Find me when you get there?

Always.

CHAPTER 39

SILAS

“Iwon’t lie,” Lincoln murmured softly against my neck. “I liked it better when I could take you home and spank you until you cried.”

I snorted. “Sorry, you have to work for it now. Being dominant must be terribly exhausting.”

“It is,” he agreed, knocking his head against mine.

We were on the patio at Rapture, nestled together at a cocktail table with a clear view of the dance floor. We’d done a quick pass through the place after arriving, and Lincoln had prematurely declared the night hopeless before hauling me outside for a better view. I wasn’t looking for the same thing he was, but I promised him the night was very young and he still had plenty of time to find someone.

“What happened to that man from the last time we were here?” I asked. “Ethan?”

Even in the dim light of the patio, I could see Lincoln’s cheeks darken. I hadn’t heard a peep about Ethan since the night we’d met him, and the text messages Lincoln had sent over the course of the night and into the next morning to let me know he was safe and alive.

“I haven’t talked to him,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I didn’t get his number,” Lincoln muttered. “An oversight.”

“I have his phone number,” I reminded him. “He put it in my phone the night you went home with him. Did you not remember that?”

Lincoln’s eyes went wide, then shuttered. “I can’t text him just because you have his number. That feels like some consent violation.”

“Do you want me to text him?” I asked.

“That’s the same,” he said. “If I want to see him again, I’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way. By crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Lincoln gave me a forlorn look. “It doesn’t matter, and I don’t want to talk about it. He was fun, but it’s complicated so it’s better to just let it be. Less attachments.”

“You sound very unattached,” I agreed, face somber in my agreement.

“Hey.” He snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I smacked his hand down to the table. “There’s your man.”

I looked into the club, and Lincoln was right. Marshall was there, easy to pick out for how tall he was, how elegant he looked, even in a sea of skin and leather. His hair still looked wet—he must have showered after dinner—and even though there was a whole dance floor between us, the scent of his soap filled my nose. He scanned the room looking for me, and I watched him the whole time until he found me. His approach after that was like a guided missile, cutting through the crowd with precision until he was right in front of me.

Up close, I gave a quick glance to his clothes, black jeans and a black t-shirt, mostly the same as what I had on but also a hundred times better put together. He gave me the sameonceover, but I could tell by the heat in his eyes I was the only one who found myself to be lacking.

“I’ll go get drinks,” Lincoln said.

Marshall gave him a quick greeting and thanks, never taking his eyes off me.

“There’s my brilliant project architect,” he murmured, sliding an arm around my waist and hauling our bodies together. “Are you ready to admit how amazing you are?”

I huffed, cheeks burning. “To anyone except you,” I admitted.

“We’ll have to work on that.”

Marshall leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. He tasted like toothpaste, fresh and clean. I smiled against his mouth and joined my hands together at the base of his neck.