Free Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) by Nikki Sloane Page A

not that rule.” He pushed my hands away and pulled me to my feet. “I told you, this is mine.” He ran his hand between my legs, lifting my skirt with it, rubbing me for a moment. The independent side of me protested but the basic woman in me loved it.
    I grabbed the envelope and my purse off the floor and followed him to the elevator.
    “I think I prefer you naked,” he murmured against my neck while we rode up to the forty-forth floor, “but this dress is a very close second.” His fingertips skimmed over the bare skin of my back and drew a shiver from me.
    His apartment was only a few doors down from the elevator, and when he turned on the lights inside, it made me angry.
    “How much are they paying you that you can afford rent on this?”
    The door shut behind him and his hands went to my hips, forcing me face-first against the wall.
    “That was rhetorical,” I said when his body flattened mine. He sank his teeth into the flesh of my earlobe. It was controlling, and hot. “I just meant your place is nice.”
    “It’s not my place. I mean, it is and it isn’t. I’m renting it from a friend who holds the lease.” Hands caressed the curves of my body, holding me against the wall. “He’s in Japan for the next year and didn’t want to lose the place, so his company pays half the rent and I pay the other. Otherwise, no, I couldn’t afford it.”
    He released me and let me wander further inside.
    It’s not like the apartment was a penthouse, but it was spacious with an open kitchen where everything looked brand new. The living room was just beyond the granite breakfast bar, and the back wall was one seamless sheet of glass, floor to ceiling.
    This apartment had the most unbelievable view of North Beach possible. Even at the dead of the night, I could see the outline of the lake and the marina.
    “Wow,” I said.
    “I’m already dreading moving out. Nothing’s going to compare.” He set the bottle of wine on the counter and opened a drawer, fishing out a corkscrew. I saw wine glasses hanging underneath a cabinet and pulled them out, setting them right side up for him.
    I studied his long fingers as he cut the foil. Not being allowed to ask questions made starting a simple conversation difficult, and he seemed to like the silence. I didn’t. I could be smart about it; he usually responded when I made a comment or observation.
    “I don’t like not being able to ask you questions about how tonight happened.”
    “That must be frustrating for you.” He uncorked the bottle, filled the glasses half full with the red wine, and passed me one. He was playfully smug about his rules.
    I took a sip of the wine. It was dry and I didn’t care for it, and when I set the glass down, a smile twitched on his lips.
    “You don’t like my twelve thousand dollar bottle of wine?”
    “It doesn’t taste like twelve grand to me.”
    “But I know you do.”
    I was nervous when he closed the distance between us and an arm went tight around my waist. His head dipped down to mine, and he kissed me, his mouth dominating and possessive. It sent my heart rate through the roof. Jesus, this man knew how to kiss.
    “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
    “I’m glad you didn’t kiss me during negotiations.”
    His brown eyes were curious. “Why?”
    “Because I would have agreed to your opening bid. Or I might have countered with a lower one.”
    He seemed pleased to hear that. He set down his glass and put his hands on me, lifting me up to seat me on the counter top. The granite was cold against my burning skin.
    This next kiss was more aggressive. It dripped with lust and the promise of more pleasure as his hands skimmed over my thighs, working up. I set one hand on his defined jawline, as if I could steady myself by touching him, but it only made the room spin harder. I could feel control slipping away.
    Logan grew hard between my legs, pressing himself against my center. His hand went to my shoulder and he guided