Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club 4)

Soft, blue light glowed and I squinted against it. Silas had his phone out and used the lit screen to guide his way through my bedroom.

The door shut behind him and the light flipped on, pouring from the crack at the bottom. I heard him plod to the kitchen and open the refrigerator door, and I used the time to wiggle out of my jeans and slide under the covers. He was gone a while. Was he conducting his own investigative search as I had thought about doing to his place?

It was dark again and the door creaked open.

Silas was bathed in the blue glow, carrying a can of beer and a bottle of water, which he held out to me. “I figured you want this, unless—?”

I propped myself up on a pillow and took the offered water. “No, I don’t drink beer.”

“It was in your fridge.”

“It’s Matt’s.” I paused. “I mean, it was Matt’s.”

“Oh.” Silas eyed the can like it was contaminated, then shrugged. “Mine now.”

His subtext had my heart racing. He climbed back into the bed and set the beer on the nightstand that had been Matt’s up until a month ago. I took a long sip from the water and tried not to think about how exciting it was to have Silas in my bed.

Perhaps it was because we’d missed out on having dinner conversation, but the words between us came naturally. He set his glowing phone between us on the bed as we talked, each of us taking turns to swipe a finger to wake the screen back up. He told me what it had been like growing up with a father and several uncles who were detectives with the CPD, and then his sister became a Marshal. Silas’s decision to forgo the badge hadn’t been an easy one.

“My family supports me, even though they don’t really fucking get it, but that’s all I can ask for,” he said.

He talked about his start with tattooing and the long hours. There’d been weeks where he’d had to work twelve hour days back to back to save up for the gallery lease, and he admitted he’d been scared shitless the first six months he’d been open. But the buyers came, and he did tattoos on the side when he hit dry spells, and now he was able to live comfortably.

“You shouldn’t have been worried,” I said. “Your work is beautiful.”

Even in the low light, I could see his expression soften. “Thanks.”

“Not just your tattoos and the stuff at your gallery, either. I looked at the pictures you took of us.”

His expression turned, shifting to one that was seductive. “Yeah? How’d they come out?”

My pulse hummed along at a frantic tempo. “So fucking hot.”

“Of course they are. You’re in them.”

“I touched myself while looking at them and got off. Twice.”

His mouth dropped open, and then slowly widened into that perfect smile. “Jesus, Regan, your mouth. It makes me insane.” He leaned in. “It makes me so fucking hard.”

I loved it. I couldn’t tell Silas I was FBI, but I felt like I could be the real me in all other aspects. Being Regan was the person no one else got to see.

“Your memory card’s in my purse.”

“You want to look at them now?”

He was halfway off the bed before I could answer. “No, I can’t look at the screen.” And I certainly couldn’t do what I knew I’d want to after looking at the pictures. I was barely able to sit upright without my ears ringing. “I’m saying you should remember to get the card before you go.” He’d been such a great guy, I didn’t see him pulling a dick move and posting them. “I trust you.”

He appeared pleased. “You can.” His gaze drifted down to the bed. “I have a question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“What happened to your pants?”

I smiled and fed him the same line he’d given me before. “They fell off. Would you like to file a complaint?”

“Fuck, no.” The light on the phone went out and we both swiped at the same time, our fingers brushing together. He took my hand in his and pressed my fingers to his lips. His shockingly sweet gesture caused an equally shocking response in me. My heart fluttered.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked. “I’d stay, but it’s getting late and they’ll tow my bike if I don’t get it soon.”