Page 62 of Receiving His Mercy
“Not much, babe. I’ve got a bit of a situation in my apartment so I figured I’d come shower up here before I head to the club.”
“You’re going to a club tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah, Whip It, the BDSM club that Travis owns.” He continued to grin at her. “You ever been to a BDSM club, Caren?”
“Hmm, I went to the Twisted Thorn regularly when I lived in Dallas. And years ago, I belonged to one in London. It was called Club Slade.”
Tyler’s grin widened. “Nice. I had a feeling.”
He had? A feeling about what? That she was kinky? That she was a sub?
Travis walked back into the room holding a white blanket. He came to a sudden stop, glaring at them both. “Beer? Seriously?”
“What’s wrong with a beer?” Tyler asked. “It’s after five somewhere.”
“Aren’t you heading off to a shift at Whip It?” Travis asked.
“Yeah, but that’s not for another few hours.”
“Caren shouldn’t be drinking beer.”
Travis reached over to take her beer and she pulled it away from him.
“Give that to me,” he demanded.
“No!” she cried. “It’s my beer. Get your own.”
“I don’t want a damn beer. I want yours.”
He reached for it again and unfortunately as she drew it away, she jolted and it spilled.
“Oh no! Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” She jumped up from the sofa and the room spun slightly.
Then she was suddenly pulled into a firm chest, the beer taken from her hand. And the room spun for an entirely different reason.
Bugger it. She really, really liked being held by him. And she loved his scent . . . it was a mix of chocolate and spice and all things freaking nice.
She found herself melting against him.
“This is why you shouldn’t be drinking beer,” he muttered.
Oh bollocks! The spilled beer. He had a good point. Why was she so freaking clumsy?
“I’m so sorry, you’re right! Let me just clean it up.” She attempted to pull herself out of his hold, but he tightened his arms around her.
“Don’t care about a bit of spilled beer, Goldie,” he told her gruffly. “And Tyler will clean it up, not you.”
“That’s not fair. I spilled it.”
“He got it for you.”
“Don’t worry, Caren,” Tyler said. “I’m all over it. Oh, can I call you Goldie, too? Forgot Travis gave you that nickname years ago.”
She opened her mouth to reply yes, but Travis spoke first.
“No, you cannot,” Travis snapped.
Caren drew back to stare up at him. He really was being extra grouchy. Tyler whistled, walking back from the kitchen with a cloth.
