Keeping Karly (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Rachel Clark Page A

made him feel ill. What the hell had he been thinking? Over a year ago he’d decided to live a normal, vanilla life—he wanted a wife, kids, and a white picket fence, the whole nine yards. It was why he’d taken the job in Hong Kong. None of his plans required dragging Karly to the club to watch scenes that would be very distressing for her to watch. Why would he even think about taking her there?
    He glanced at his brother and realized he knew the answer, even if he hadn’t consciously acknowledged it until now. They’d both fallen for her, and it felt so much like the relationship they’d wanted from the beginning of their Dom training that they’d forgotten that Karly wasn’t likely to ever want to live the Dom-sub, ménage lifestyle they wanted, not even in the bedroom.
    Shit. That left them in a love triangle. Or did it? Maybe what they’d considered a very slow courtship, Karly had seen as nothing more than friendship. It seemed almost ludicrous that the woman who’d gutted him with her words and unfair accusations a year and a half ago—the woman who’d been the catalyst for his change in plans for his future—was the person he now wanted to introduce to a lifestyle she abhorred.
    The whack over the back of his head, though not exactly painful, was as annoying as hell.
    “Stop overthinking it,” Grant said as he stepped over to Karly, extricated her from her sister’s embrace, and pulled her into his own. “We’ll find something that works for everyone.”
    Confident words, but was that even possible?

Chapter Nine
     
    I glance at the clock again for the fifteenth time in fifteen minutes. Grant notices, leans over, and lifts me onto his lap. I’m a little surprised by his move, but I can’t say I dislike it. He’s such a big guy that I can curl into his embrace and feel safe here. It doesn’t stop me worrying about Casey’s safety, though.
    “He won’t hurt her,” Bryce says as he moves closer, pulls my feet into his lap, and starts to massage them with his strong hands.
    “I know,” I say truthfully. “I’m just trying to understand it.”
    “Maybe it’s not for us to understand,” Grant says in his deep, soothing voice.
    “This probably doesn’t help much,” Bryce says as he continues to massage the instep of my foot—the man has magic fingers—“but we used to worry about her, too. Even before the incident with Robert, but Chris is a perfect match for her. He’ll give her what she needs and keep her safe.”
    “But what if things get out of hand?” It’s what happened with Robert. Casey had trusted the man and he’d nearly killed her.
    “Not at the club,” Grant says as he slides his hand through my hair. “The scene monitors will quickly intervene if they think things are getting dangerous.”
    “And since Chris won’t do anything more dangerous than a simple spanking outside of the club, Casey is in very good hands.”
    I laugh quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a spanking described as simple. Does that mean there are complicated spankings, too?”
    “Absolutely,” Bryce says. “There are harsh spankings, soft spankings, deep-tissue spankings that will leave bruises, shallow skin-deep spankings that will leave your skin feeling sunburned but undamaged. Then, of course, there is a whole variety of implements that can be used in a spanking—paddles, wooden spoons, hairbrushes…”
    “You’re serious?” I ask, waiting for the punch line to the joke. When both men stay quiet, I wonder if I’ve insulted them somehow. “So…um…what sort of spanking do you prefer?”
    “The ones where I do the spanking,” Grant says wickedly, tickling my waist with his fingers.
    I can’t help but laugh, yet I do find myself wondering when he had time to learn all of my ticklish spots. “Okay,” I finally manage to say breathlessly. “Which type of spanking do you prefer to give?”
    “The shallow kind,” Bryce says, moving his massage up higher so that