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On any other day, I wouldn’t allow strangers to touch me, let alone carry me through what I am quickly realizing is some kind of sex club, but I suppose it’s not every day your fiancé cheats on you with a naughty nurse on Halloween and proceeds to assault you in front of a group of strangers. There’s a first time for everything.
I bury my face in the man’s chest, unable to look at the depraved things happening around me. The moment my eyes lock with a woman tied to what looks like a cross, her body completely bare and red marks covering her creamy skin…that’s the first and last thing I see before I squeeze my eyes shut and will the images away.
I’ve only ever read about places like this, and I certainly never thought they actually existed. Except now I’m in one, and I’m only being carried further into the belly of the beast. And yet, I can’t find it in me to ask the man to put me down, or to turn around and take me back to the safety of the bar where at the very least everyone was clothed.
The man whose arms I’ve found myself in draws gentle circles on the bare flesh of my thigh, and each pass of his thumb sends another shiver through my body. I hope he thinks I’m cold, because him knowing how he affects me is a bad idea.
It’s not until one of his hands disappear from my skin and I hear a door open that I finally look around again. I take in the space around us, the same red and black color scheme that runs through the bar and club continues through what appears to be an office.
Two large mahogany desks are set up at each end of space, and in the center is a large, leather couch. I wonder what happens in here. Is it used purely for business purposes? Or do other things happen in here? Is this where these men bring women when they want to be alone? Is that what they expect of me?
Panic flares to life in my chest. How could I be so stupid to allow these men to take me to a locked office where they could take advantage of me? And who would come to my rescue?
“It’s okay, angel,” the man holding me murmurs against my cheek, his breath whispering across my face. “You’re safe here.”
“I’m sure serial killers say that all the time.”
The other man chuckles as the door clicks shut behind us. “Have you met many serial killers, Leighton?” he asks.
“That depends on how many people the two of you have killed.”
The man holding me shakes his head, a broad smile spread across his handsome face. My hero looks like just that. Even without the costume, he gives off those vibes, and I find myself wanting to know more about him.
“Sit her on the couch,” the other man says gruffly, crossing the room and squatting down behind one of the desks.
Part of me is disappointed at the thought of my hero putting me down, of losing the warmth and comfort he offers, but it’s probably for the best. He’s clouding my judgment. His scent, his smile, his good looks, it’s all working against me, and the smart thing to do would be to get as far away from these men as I can manage.
But when my hero lowers us both onto the couch, sitting me on his lap and repositioning me so my feet are resting on the pillow beside us, I don’t have a chance to miss him. This position is more intimate somehow, and I’m not entirely sure I like it.
The other man reappears carrying an ice pack and a first aid kit, settling some of the panic coursing through my veins. Maybe they are just being nice guys and looking after me. He squats down in front of us, his eyes brushing over my outfit. When I found the invitation in Jason’s jacket the other day, I suspected something was amiss. In fact, I’ve suspected it for a while. He gets home late, leaves early in the morning, and he’s been more distant than usual. Not that he’s ever been particularly warm.
But I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, I have no choice but to make our relationship work. If my parents get word of me leaving Jason, all hell will break loose, and that’s a storm I don’t want to weather. So I got all dressed up in this too-short costume, that hugs all the curves Jason and my mother insist I try to lose before the wedding. At first I thought maybe it was a work event, but the moment I stepped foot inside the bar that reeked of sin, I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever I was about to see.
“You don’t need to be frightened,” my hero says softly. “We’re just going to have a look at your ankle and see if you need to go to the hospital.”
“I don’t need to—” I start to argue.
“That will be my call to make, pretty girl,” the gruff one interrupts.
“I don’t even know your names,” I snap.
My hero chuckles. “Would it make you more comfortable if you knew a bit more about us before he starts poking and prodding?” Fire flashes through his eyes at his own words, but I can’t quite work out why.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve lived such a sheltered life, but I find myself nodding anyway.
“Very well.” He smiles. “I’m Wyatt, and this is my best friend and business partner, Elias. We own this club.”
My eyes widen. Lord. I really am in the lion’s den. Because surely if you own a club such as this, marketed to people’s most base instincts, you have to have some of your own.
“This place isn’t that scary,” he assures me. “Now, Elias here has some medical training from when he was a SEAL. Can he please have a look at it?”
I look between them, the sincere look on Wyatt’s face and the fierce determination on Elias’s as his eyes flicker from my face to my rapidly swelling ankle. Since I was lifted in Wyatt’s arms, I hadn’t paid much attention to the screaming agony radiating down into my foot and up through my leg, but I’m feeling it now.
I give a small nod, and he gets to work immediately. First he carefully unclasps the buckle around my ankle, his large fingers working delicately to ensure he doesn’t hurt me. I can’t tear my eyes from his movements, because they seem so unnatural for a man of his size. Even squatting beside the couch, he towers over me, and an image of him moving over me flickers into my mind. His hard body brushing against my soft one. His huge hands gripping on to my hips and leaving marks on my creamy skin.
Where the heck did that come from? A deep blush spreads across my cheeks, and when I look up at Wyatt he gives me a knowing look that makes my core heat.
I’m in so much trouble.
