Page 40 of Holy Hearts
“I’ve asked them to wear masks, so we know who is in and who isn’t. Should be a fun night of chaos and debauchery if we’re lucky.”
“And the contract is signed?” I ask, feeling slightly nervous to play with so many people around.
“Yes. He’s been vetted, health checked, and he knows exactly what the terms are.”
I nod. “Okay, babe.”
A second later, I see Malakai walk through the door, and my breathing hitches slightly. For a moment, the party fades into the background. The chatter, the soft clink of champagneglasses, even the weight of Julian’s hand on my lower back—all of it dims under the sudden awareness of him. His presence fills the room effortlessly, his dark hair tousled just enough to look like he hasn’t been thinking about tonight at all, and yet, somehow, he fits here perfectly.
I don’t know why I expected seeing him tonight to feel normal.
It’s not.
I glance at Julian. He hasn’t noticed yet. But I can feel it, the sharp edge of excitement curling low in my stomach.
And the guilt that follows immediately after.
What the hell is that about?
I press closer to Julian’s side, grounding myself in the solid warmth of his body. His fingers trace absent circles along my waist.
This is fine, I tell myself.This is fine.
But as I catch Malakai’s eyes across the room—his gaze lingering just a little too long before sliding away—I wonder if I believe that.
Julian’s lips brush against the shell of my ear. “You’ve been staring at him for a full minute, pet. Should I be concerned?”
I snort softly, even as my skin heats. “Absolutely not. I’m just marveling at how good he is at pretending he’s not looking at us.”
Julian chuckles, tipping his glass toward Kai in a subtle, knowing toast. “Well, let him look. He knows exactly who you’re going home with tonight.”
And I do.
Malakai’s eyes shift toward mine once more, and something dark and dangerous—and hopeful—begins to grow inside of me.
An hour later, Julian squeezes my hand three times.
It’s his cue to let me know the man he chose for me is waiting upstairs. Julian will take the back stairway up and sneak into the guest bedroom to watch us. Like always, I’ve been given a picture of the guy and a copy of his records, but I never know what they’re like until we start the scene. It doesn’t really matter to me, because the best part of it all is watching Julian lose his mind. Watching how his eyes get this sexy, dark color as he watches me. Putting on a showfor him.
Plus, there’s something really empowering about doing something so frowned upon in society. Others might call it cheating, but for us, it has only solidified our marriage and made us stronger.
Also, I can’t lie and say it doesn’t turn me on that Julian always has a say in who gets to touch me—in who gets to play with me. It makes me feel safe and protected. And while we’ve never seriously dabbled in the BDSM lifestyle, I’ve discovered that doing this is my way of submitting to him in the bedroom.
Which is really fucking hot.
Straightening my dress, I walk down the hallway upstairs and place my hand on the handle of the guest bedroom, but before I can open it, a man comes out of the shadows.
It’s the guy Julian chose for tonight, and he’s wearing a masquerade mask that covers his eyes and hugs his cheekbones.
“Sophie?”
I nod. “Hi.”
He takes another step forward, and I know Julian is somewhere nearby, or will be very shortly. Every detail will have been worked out by him, and I trust that I’m in good hands.
The mystery man moves forward, closer to me, and presses me against the wall. With one arm above my head, he pins me in place, taking his other hand and placing it on my hip gently. I hear shuffling in the hallway, and I don’t want to break the scene, so I do the only thing that makes sense. I kiss him.
His lips are soft, and his hand grips my hip tightly as his tongue invades my mouth. He tastes like mint, and though he’s a few inches shorter than Julian, I imagine it’s my husband, just like I always do. As I press my back against the cool wall, the man Julian chose for tonight trails slow kisses along my neck. My heart hammers in my chest, not from nerves, but from the delicious thrill of being seen. The weight of someone’s gaze prickles over my skin, drawing heat to my face.
