Union of Sin (10 page)

Instead of fighting like she anticipated, he stepped backward, disappearing into the office and closing the door behind him.

Damn him
.

The more they fought, the more she questioned what she was doing. His unfamiliar actions were making her second-guess the marriage they’d once had. Second-guess T.J. in general. Previously, she’d thought he could never taint the memories she had. Now, she wasn’t so sure. He was dampening everything. Their love. Their happiness.

Shay was wrong. Being close to him hadn’t given her the upper hand. It had resulted in the opposite. Because now she was beginning to believe the divorce may be exactly what they needed. Maybe they were better off alone.

C
hapter Twelve

Cassie finished stocking bottles of wine into the fridge under the bar and moved to her feet. Shay and Leo were escorting the last of the private party toward the club entrance, while Brute was beside her, clearing away dirty glasses along the counter.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

He didn’t glance her way, didn’t quit stacking glasses in a long tower to rest against his chest. “Where’s T.J.?”

“Still upstairs.”

He nodded and continued stacking. “We’ll wait a minute.”

Cassie frowned. “He’s not coming, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

He cleaned the bar as he went, stacked glasses in one hand, damp cloth in the other, until he reached the dishwasher.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Nope. Leo and Shay can finish up when they come back. I’m just waiting for a minute.”

“What are you waiting…” Her words trailed off as a thud sounded upstairs, then the heavy rhythmic pounding of angered footsteps.

“For that,” Brute muttered. “Let’s go.” He closed the dishwasher and stalked around the bar, leading her toward the locked door at the far side of the club.

“Wait,” T.J.’s shout shot down her spine, all the way to her toes.

Brute didn’t pause, didn’t even glance over his shoulder, so neither did she. T.J. wasn’t going to stop her. This was her last hurrah. The final push until she walked away forever.

She sucked in deep breath after deep breath, calming herself as Brute unlocked the heavy padlock securing the entry to the staircase leading to the Vault of Sin.

“Wait,” T.J. growled. “I’m coming too.”

Her head snapped around, her eyes greedily eating up the sight of her husband as he strode toward them. He was furious. All that anger and animosity directed right at her. If he was trying to intimidate her, he was failing miserably. Her body had the opposite reaction. Her nipples were pulsing, her throat tight, lips dry.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Her naïve heart fluttered. Her mind knew his acquiescence didn’t mean a thing. It was merely a control measure. But anticipation filled her anyway. This was the first and maybe the last time she’d walk down these stairs with him. What once had been a fantasy was now a broken reality, and she’d take it nonetheless.

Brute swung the door open and waved out an arm for her to proceed. Before her was darkness. She could sense the staircase looming to her left because she knew it was there, yet she had no clue where the light switch was.

“Move,” T.J. growled, pushing past her. He flicked on the light, illuminating the staircase she remembered from Thursday night.

Images lined the walls, the hedonistic pictures of sex and foreplay making her pussy throb. The scrape of her thighs against one another as she descended the stairs only made her arousal more potent and the slickness of her sex seep into her panties. She wondered if T.J. would care. Or how he’d react if she told him. Yet telling him scared her. Especially when she now struggled to recognize her husband.

His large frame was tense, his back ramrod straight as he led the way while Brute followed behind her. It could’ve been intimidating—her angered husband in front, a brutal man at her back—maybe that was their intent. Instead, it awakened fantasies, making her burn all the more to experience the Vault when it was at full capacity, this time without a disguise.

When T.J. reached the bottom step, he flung out his arm and flicked on another set of lights, bringing the entry area into view. She wasn’t given a guided tour. T.J. didn’t even acknowledge the doors leading to the locker or change rooms. He stormed ahead, moving to the keypad securing the entrance to Vault of Sin at the end of the hall.

He slammed his index finger against four numbers in quick succession and the panel let out a caustic beep. He did it again, slamming harder this time, and earned another beep in return.

“
Fuck
.”

His hand was shaking, his head now hung low with his hair curtaining his eyes. His fragility consumed her, washing away her arousal, replacing it with the need to console. He wasn’t just filled with anger. She knew that. Underneath his resentment was pain.

“Want me to do it?” Brute asked.

“Fuck you.” T.J. straightened and poised his finger over the panel again. This time, he entered the numbers slower, the same four digits she’d memorized since childhood—one, six, one, zero.

“My birthday,” she whispered as the lock released with a click. He may be fighting to push her away now, but back when the club had opened, even after the assault in Brisbane, she’d been the first thing on his mind when he’d chosen a security code for the sex club.

He flung the door wide and held it there, peering down at her without emotion as she strolled into the room fighting to hold back a grin. Her first glimpse was different from her recollection. The large screen previously playing porn was black. Silent. The room was bathed in sterile florescent light instead of the dimmer lamps to help set the mood. But it wasn’t the Vault she was interested in. It was T.J.’s reaction. He was watching her, not in anger, not in spite, but in pained curiosity.

If only she could bathe him in the praise he deserved for creating such a respectful, reputable environment. She had no delusions that setting up this club had been difficult for him after what they’d gone through. Even though he hadn’t been able to bring her down here, a part of her was in every piece of the Vault. She was in the heavy vetting process established to make sure participants were genuine and honest. She was in the classy furniture and clean sheets. She was in the heart of this club, and he’d never be able to take her out.

“This is where the fledglings stay until they feel comfortable playing with the big kids,” Brute drawled, squeezing past her.

She inclined her head. “I like the idea.”

She continued to watch T.J. from her periphery. His posture was taut, his discomfort visible even from a side glimpse. As she approached, he strode forward, leaving her and Brute alone in the small space.

“Why is he acting like this?” She turned to face Brute.

Her business partner raised a brow. “Maybe because he wants a divorce and you won’t let him go.”

She snapped her lips shut, refusing to bite back at his heartlessness. There was no empathy in his features. No kindness. No annoyance. Nothing. He was void of emotion.

“You raise a good point.” She walked past him and into the main open room of Vault of Sin.

Everything was set out the same as the masquerade party. There was a corner lounge to her left, the bar up ahead with an entrance to the staircase leading to the car park hidden around the side. The sex swing still hung in the far corner. There was a king-size bed to her right, and every inch of the room screamed with debauchery, even though there were no writhing bodies.

She pretended to take in her surroundings, while her focus kept returning to T.J. with his back leaned against the bar in between two stools. He was watching her like a hawk. Scrutinizing her perusal, reigniting her arousal.

“I like the sex swing,” she announced to no one in particular. “I assume staff get free entry.” It was a joke. Her halfhearted chuckle announcing humor that nobody else returned.

T.J.’s nostrils flared, his arms crossing over his chest. “I’d die before I let you participate down here.”

She sauntered toward the bar, bridging the space between them, smiling as she did so. “And will you pay me the same respect?” She raised a brow, trying to contain the snarl in her voice. “Or is it already too late?”

His face fell. Undiluted guilt filtered into his features. His eyes, previously harsh with annoyance, filled with devastation. Then, in a blink, it washed away. He schooled his features, straightened and shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re free to do as you wish, Cassie. You just won’t be doing it in here.”

He met her gaze, her calm, gentle husband nowhere to be seen. Instead, she stared back at a man filled with torment she couldn’t soothe. He’d been broken by something. If it wasn’t the club in Brisbane, she had no clue what. And it scared her to ponder the possibilities.

“Exactly what I thought,” she murmured. “You didn’t answer the question.”

It was harsh to taunt him with guilt he shouldn’t feel. Regret he hadn’t earned. But she had very few cards up her sleeve, and the knowledge he’d made a mistake on Thursday was one of them.

“I guess I should be happy.” She clutched the seats of the stools he stood between, her shoes almost touching his. “Once the divorce is final, I’ll be able to get back to exploring all those things you promised me.”

He broke eye contact, his jaw ticking. His chest began to rise and fall, his chin jutting to fight off her attack. She didn’t move back, didn’t leave his personal space. She couldn’t. This harsh side of him did things to her belly, and places much lower. If only he’d succumb to his desire for her. She knew it was there, hidden under his fear.

“I wish you all the best with finding what you need.” His words were like a steel blade—lethal, sterile, cold. Deep down, she knew he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t. But her strength to push wavered under his callousness.

They were playing a game. Each of them shoving at the other, waiting for the first one to crack. He would either succumb to his need for her and revoke the poor excuse for a divorce, or she would buckle under his heartlessness, too hurt to keep fighting him.

“Do you mind if we pause the tour so I can use the bathroom?” She couldn’t maintain the strong façade much longer. She needed privacy. A few moments to regroup before she came back swinging.

“No problem.” His focus narrowed on her, his curiosity seeing straight through her. He knew he was winning the war. And by the barely visible pity in Brute’s eyes, he did too.

T.J. watched her disappear into the room leading to the bathrooms. He’d grown weak, his gaze tracking her every movement, his feelings for her shoving to the forefront again.

“She sure knows her way around for someone who’s never been down here before,” Brute drawled.

T.J. tore his attention from the doorway and scowled. “What do you mean?”

Brute shrugged, acting as if his words weren’t a bombshell. “I sure as hell didn’t show her where the bathrooms are.”

Shit.
Panic washed over him. “She couldn’t…” It would have been impossible for her to get into the Vault. “You handle all entry information. How could she have been down here without you knowing?”

Brute narrowed his gaze. “Is that accusation I hear in your tone?”

No. It was fury. How the fuck had his wife gotten into Vault of Sin without his approval? The how, what, where and when assailed him. Was it recently? Had it been all those months ago when the Vault first opened? Or maybe a few nights ago at the masquerade party, hiding under a disguise to watch him disrespect their marriage vows.

“When?” he asked through clenched teeth. “How could this happen?”

His mouth dried as he tried to figure it out. The Vault was locked when not in use. Dead-bolted. On event nights, not only did the downstairs entrance have a digital alarm, the upstairs door and parking lot entrance were both manned by security guards. If she was callous enough to try and attend a night the Vault was open, she would’ve had to go through the approval process—photos, ID, approval at the door. It was impossible.

“Maybe she took a wild stab at where they were.” He glanced at Brute in hope.

His friend raised a brow, not needing to back up his disbelief with anything other than his confident stare.

Fuck.
“It had to be Shay.” She’d been a pain in his ass since the news of his divorce.

Brute narrowed his focus to a glare. “Accusing Shay without evidence is going to land you in a world of hurt.”

As if he wasn’t there already. “For her sake, I hope I’m wrong.”

Shay was a friend, but above all else, she was an employee. One that seemed more committed to gossip than her duties to their business. She’d asked one too many questions about his divorce. Had followed him around like gum stuck to his shoe. And when Cassie had showed up tonight, Shay hadn’t been surprised at all, as if they’d planned the reunion together.

“Hold on a goddamn minute.” He turned toward the room his wife had disappeared into. “Shay has never met Cassie before. Why the hell did they seem familiar with one another when Cassie turned up tonight?”

Brute’s lips twitched slightly as he shrugged again.

Motherfucker.
Something was going on, and it was about time T.J. put a stop to it.

“You better not be involved.” He pointed a menacing finger toward Brute’s chest and stormed away, hell-bent on finding the answers he couldn’t live without.

Chap
ter Thirteen

Cassie was washing her hands in the basin when the bathroom door was flung open, hitting the wall with a deafening crack. She turned, startled by a remembered sense of fear from a similar situation, and stared at the fury in T.J.’s eyes as he loomed in the doorway.

“You’ve been down here before.”

She snapped her gaping mouth shut and schooled her expression.
Breathe
. She broke the words down in her mind, hoping to convince herself they were spoken in jealousy, not hatred. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His nostrils flared and his large frame inched forward, for the first time coming toward her with menace. “You gave yourself away.”

She turned back toward the basin, lowering her head as she calmly grabbed the hand towel and dried her fingers. “I gave what away?”

He growled, the deep rumble of his chest caressing her ears. He came up behind her, grabbed the towel and threw it back onto the counter. “Look at me.”

She swallowed, raising her focus to the mirror and the furious man staring back at her. For a second, she was scared, not of him, but of how their marriage was turning into more of a mangled wreck with each passing second. Soon it would be unsalvageable. Soon all hope would be lost.

He grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. Although he was angry as hell, his grip was in contrast, a light caress, a loving brush of fingers. She turned to him, glimpsed the sadness in his eyes right before his gaze fell to where they touched, and he dropped his hold.

Emotions flickered across his features—heartache, yearning, confusion, before finally morphing back to anger. “Answer me,” he snarled.

She scoffed. “From my understanding, all you’ve done is fling accusations at me. I’ve yet to be asked a question.” She stepped into him and raised her chin so they were almost eye to eye. “And even if you were demanding answers from me, you have no right anymore. I’m no longer your concern.”

“Don’t play with me, Cass.” He stepped into her, thigh to thigh, menacingly close.

She’d never been immune to his dominance. Outside of the bedroom, they were a regular couple. Scratch that. Outside of the bedroom, they were an enviable couple, their love evident to anyone who witnessed them together. Behind closed doors, the parallels of their relationship changed. He was no longer the protector. He was the predator. The man with an insatiable need for her, a passion so carnal she woke up in a sweat from mere dreams of it.

“I can’t stand seeing you this way.” His nose scrunched in distaste. “Spite doesn’t look pretty on you.”

Spite
?
Spite
! Could he not see she was fighting for her life here? For his love?

“Yeah?” She raised a brow in defiance. “Well, being a coward doesn’t look favorably on you either.”

“I’m not a coward, Cass.”

“Hmm?” She narrowed her gaze. “Then what would you call it? You’re running away from a perfect marriage. You’re hiding from something you can’t even tell me about. If that’s not cowardice, I don’t know what is.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Because you won’t tell me.” Her voice turned to a plea.

“It’s better this way. I need you to come to terms with that.”

“No. You need to come to terms with me not giving up on us.” Her tone lacked conviction. Her heart too. She couldn’t take much more of this. Fighting for a man who no longer wanted to be fought for. Battling for a cause that had already been lost. “Until I have all the answers, I can’t give up. I need closure.” She stepped into him, resting her forearms against his chest. “Tell me why you need this divorce. Tell me what changed if it wasn’t that night in Brisbane.”

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, unable to stop herself when he was so close. Her mouth ached for him. All she needed was a kiss. A connection. She’d convince him to stay from the slightest contact.

“You still desire me.” She didn’t break their stare. “I think you always will.”

“You’re right. But my attraction to you was never in question.”

She balked at his honesty. “Then what is it? Don’t you love me anymore?”

Her fingers clung to his shirt, her gaze raking his features, scouring for answers. She was inching closer to where she needed to be. If she knew what she was fighting against, she could better equip herself. She’d no longer be battling in the dark.

“Tate,
please
tell me.”

His gaze softened, his lips parted as if poised to speak. Then the shield went down, his forehead scrunched in annoyance, and he stepped back with a derisive laugh. “You almost had me.”

He shook his head, ran a hand over the darkened stubble of his chin. “But let’s get back to the real reason I’m in here, shall we?” Her heart dropped at the returned venom in his tone. “Tell me, Cassie. When did you come to the Vault without me?”

Hell
. How the fuck had this turned back to him? He couldn’t think straight around her. She was confusing him. Changing the subject without him noticing. He hadn’t come in here to succumb to the emotional plea in her eyes. He’d come for answers.

“How did you get in?” he grated, attempting to act in control even though he was backtracking, stepping away from her.

She huffed. “I guess we both have questions that won’t get answered.”

The way she focused on him, intent, powerful, made him drown in the sparkling gorgeousness of her conviction. She had unending faith in them. In their love. And fuck, it was tearing him apart. He wanted to tell her, to announce the truth and let her know this divorce wasn’t what he wanted. It was what he needed—to protect her.

He’d changed her. Shaped a beautifully innocent woman into a skillful seductress because of his wants and desires. He’d driven her to be curious about a place like the filthy establishment in Brisbane. But that was only half of his problem. The rest was out of his control. There was so much she didn’t know, and telling her would only inflict more pain.

“I guess we’re done here.” She paused for a moment, waiting for words he couldn’t find. With an overly dramatic flick of her hair over her shoulder, she turned on her heel and sauntered out of the bathroom, leaving him to sink into infatuation.

He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t fight it. No matter how much time they spent apart, he’d always want her. Need her. Beg to be between her heavenly thighs, tearing murmurs of adoration from her lips. Even just to hold her. To comfort. He’d give all their years together if they could start again. He had no control over his body’s reaction to Cassie. His palms itched to touch, his lips ached at the thought of a kiss.

There had never been anything more mesmerizing than the love and affection he’d once glimpsed in her eyes. Yet here, now, the spark of determination he’d seen burning inside her was like a physical caress over his cock.

He all but jogged from the bathroom, yanking the door open with too much force. “How did you get down here?” His voice was loud, almost a yell. He still needed answers. Even more so, he needed her proximity.

She stopped at the foot of the large bed in the center of the room and slid a hand on her hip. “I followed you down here, remember?”

“You know I’m not talking about tonight.” He lumbered toward her, clenching his fists at his sides to stop from reaching for her. “Tell me when you’ve been down here before.”

“Or what?” She cocked a brow. “What are you going to do if I don’t tell?”

He growled his frustration, the rumble burning from his chest all the way up his throat. “I already know the answer. I could tell by your lack of surprise when you walked in here tonight. I’d just been too distracted until now to pick up on it. There’s no point denying the truth, Cass. I know you’ve been down here.”

Her lips tilted in a seductive curve. “Maybe.”

“Who let you in?”

The curve of her lips increased. “That’s not your concern anymore, remember?”

Jealousy, thick and rich, pulsed through his veins. “Cassie.” Her name vibrated from his lips in a lethal combination of anger and anguish.

“Tate,” she mimicked.

“When?” The bed was right here. At his side. A taunting possibility that he could throw her on the mattress and tie her down until he’d sated himself inside her addictive body. “Did a staff member show you around? Was it Travis? Shay? Or was it during a party night?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” She was enjoying this. The excitement was in her eyes, the kick of her lips. He was revealing his cards. Showing her he still cared. “Why, T.J.? You made it clear you no longer love me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to fall into her trap. He wanted to deny it, to explain exactly how much her love meant to him. But he couldn’t afford to take another retreating step tonight.

“You entered the club without my knowledge. I want to know how.” He opened his eyes and peered down at her, taking the final step between them. She had a hold of him. Every limb, every breath. He could no longer stand the thought of her down here without him. The need to know burned through his veins. The images of her amongst the club patrons was torture.

“Please.” He glided his fingers over her jaw, gently grabbed her chin and savored the way her eyes fluttered closed. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Cassie. I can only imagine the impact you had on the regulars if you came down here while it was open.”

He ran his thumb over her chin, grazing the sensitive skin just below her mouth. “Was it, sweetheart? Did you come here to play? Did Brute see you? Leo?”

She was falling under his spell, her lips parting in need. Problem was, he was equally consumed with desire. His cock was throbbing, pounding in an incessant beat to match his pulse.

He ran a hand through her loose hair and placed the other on her hip, ascending, climbing higher until his palm was almost at the curve of her breast. “Tell me,” he whispered. “When were you down here?”

She shook her head, denying him her thoughts, but not her body. Her head leaned into his grasp, her chest into his, the warmth of her abdomen scorching his cock.

He was slipping out of lucidity, his head now filled with thoughts of pleasure, his body lost to the possibility of release. He leaned in, brushed his lips over the perfection of the smooth skin below her ear and breathed in her perfume.

“Tell me.” He was no longer sure what he was asking for. Couldn’t remember why he was even here, apart from the need to have her.

Her hands came to rest on his pecs. The greedy scratch of her nails above his shirt drove him insane with want. It had been over twelve months since he’d paid homage to her body. More than 365 days. An eternity.

His mind knew that was way too long. His cock did too. It was his heart, the painful ache in his chest that tainted the moment, reminding him he’d made the choice to give up this pleasure. He couldn’t succumb under the weight of attraction.

But he’d started this for a reason. He still needed answers. Sleeping at night wouldn’t be an option if he didn’t find out when she’d been here and what she’d done. He pulled back, waited until her eyes blinked open, before he wove her hair around his fist, making it impossible for her to move. “I need to know.”

“And I need you.” She trailed her fingertips down his chest, over his stomach to the crotch of his pants. Her hand palmed his cock, releasing a needy little moan as she did it.

He snarled, hating how weak she made him, fighting the burn of attraction as she nuzzled her nose against his. “
Tell me
.”

He didn’t wait for an answer he knew wasn’t coming. Instead, he smashed his mouth against hers and gripped the back of her head to hold her tightly. He parted her lips with his tongue and ground his erection into her He could feel her everywhere—against his chest, in his mind, through his soul.

“
Tell me
,” he demanded into her mouth.

She whimpered, her body going languid against him. Her lips were the most delicate silk, her scent an intoxicating blend of everything sweet and vulnerable in the world. She gripped his shirt and pulled it from his waistband, brushing her fingers against his skin like a branding iron.

His need for answers became lost in the urgency to have her.
Twelve months
, he kept repeating to himself. He’d done without this for twelve months. How had he lived? How had he breathed?

He lifted her, placed her on the clean sheets of the bed in the middle of the room and then strode for the door, slamming it shut with a hard shove of his trembling hand.

When he turned to her, she was on her back, resting against her elbows, her body a vision he’d been starved of. He wanted to make it right, to turn off the fluorescent lights and bathe her in the warm glow of the lamp, but this wasn’t about setting a mood or deepening her already infallible appeal. This was about finding answers. It was. It really, really was. If only he could focus.

He stormed for her, not stopping until his knees hit the mattress, jolting the bed frame. “Tell me,” he demanded. “When were you here?”

She frowned, breaking the glazed look of arousal. “I guess this was a mistake.” She pushed to a seated position, her body turning briefly to the opposite side of the bed in an attempt to flee.

Like hell.
He lunged for her, caught her around the waist and dragged her back to the center of the mattress. When he released her this time, something new twinkled in her eyes. Something fierce and deliciously naughty. Something he’d never seen from Cass before.

He lunged for her again, this time her mouth, slamming his lips into hers with enough force to steal the breath from her lungs. She clung to him, digging her fingertips into his shoulders, running a hand through his hair. He was lost, delirious, inching closer to being sated.

He parted her legs with a shove of his knee and sank his body between her thighs, pinning her to the bed. She didn’t protest, didn’t deny him, yet when he pulled back, the look she gave him was lethal. A warning he was sure he’d regret not adhering to in the near future.

With his pelvis holding down her lower body, he reached for the bedside dresser and removed a scarf from the drawer. She licked her lips as he slanted over her, her gaze tracing his movements as he tied her left and then her right wrist to the wrought-iron bedhead.