Inside the Lines: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (19 page)

Guilt has a raging temper, as it turns out.

Noah is gone the next morning, and I assume he took his work to Ella’s house. I feel terrible about the night before. I should call him, text him—hell, even an email would suffice—and express my apologies. But at the moment, I’m tired. Of everything. Of feeling guilty, even though it’s deserved. Of fucking up everything. Of living in fear and excitement over Kinked. So I make myself a deal: I’ll give myself the next two hours to wallow, and then I’ll try to make things right.

I pour a cup of coffee, put on an old Pixies album, and pull out the morning paper. Nothing seems amiss until I get to the national news section.

“Dating Service Sued in Largest Sexual Assault Case Ever Filed.” My insides turn to mush. The article describes how a serial rapist used a dating site to find his victims, and though the site claims they had no knowledge of his behavior and pattern, the prosecuting attorney insists the case is rock solid against them.

If all of that wasn’t bad enough, a small accompanying article details the rapist’s kinky preferences. I’m still reeling from the news when my phone rings. I don’t even have to look at the caller ID.

Nance is apologetic, explains that Divine, Inc. is still interested, but at this time, they need to step back and reevaluate their investments. Given that we haven’t signed contracts yet, it’s better if they wait until after the first of the year to make a commitment. Of course I understand, I say. I would feel the same way. And of course, I’ll keep them posted on any new developments in the plan for Kinked, if I continue to move forward.

I don’t feel anything when I lay my phone on the table, drop my head on my arms, and close my eyes. I’m barely conscious of going to the freezer for the bottle of vodka, and after several shots, I pass out on the red couch in the living room, oblivious to the time, what day it is, and most importantly, the hollow spreading throughout my insides.

It’s been twelve days since Fin left, a week since I got the news from Divine, Inc. I’ve succeeded in ignoring the ache in my heart, the shortness of breath that catches me at odd times, and the weird silent truce Noah and I have unconsciously created, since I have yet to apologize for being an ass. I want to. I just don’t know what happened to my words.

I focus on work, take on more clients than I should, and avoid, avoid, avoid. One advantage to New York City: people with alternative sexual preferences are drawn here like moths to the proverbial flame, so I can forget my problems for days at a time. I still haven’t listened to Fin’s voice messages, and the texts have stopped, which is almost more of a relief than a disappointment. But deep down, I’m lost without him.

When Stephen calls with an invite to hang out at Paddled, I nearly leap at the chance. Anything to get out of this funk, to feel something besides the weighing darkness. With an energy I didn’t know I possessed, I dig out my favorite club outfit: two leather swatches held together by muted crimson laces, masquerading as a micro-mini, a wine-colored satin corset with hand-embroidered roses, and stiletto knee-boots. My hair doesn’t cooperate, so I leave it hanging in a mess of coils and make do with some anti-frizz spray.

Stephen meets me there.

“Look at you, dove.” He steps back and whistles. “A sight for very sore eyes. And delicious, as well.”

There’s a flirtation in his voice that I have to admit I’ve missed. I offer him the first real smile I’ve managed in weeks. “As do you. I like the new look.” Stephen is always reinventing himself, and tonight he donned skinny jeans and a dark angora sweater that fits his narrow, muscular frame like a glove.

We’ve been going to Paddled since we were twenty-one (despite the lack of alcohol, Paddled maintains an over twenty-one policy). When we walk in the door, the bouncer recognizes us and lets us through without comment. The music has a mystical quality this evening, though the small dance floor hears only its bass. I glance around, taking in the current pleasures, but despite my determination not to think about him tonight, Fin weighs heavy on my mind.

Stephen brings me a drink, standing a touch too close. “Watching or playing tonight, dove?” he whispers in my ear.

I purse my lips, considering his question as I sip my cranberry and soda. “I’ll probably just watch.”

“Probably?” His eyebrow arches, and he smiles coquettishly. “That sounds like the possibility for naughtiness isn’t off the table.”

With a quelling look, I head towards the stairs. I like Stephen as a friend, and while we’ve dallied in the same scenes together before, I’m not looking for anything remotely sexual tonight. But then…why did I say “probably”?

My phone vibrates in my small bag, but I don’t look. If it’s work or friend-related, I don’t want to know. On the off chance it’s Fin…I don’t want to know that either. All I desire is to embrace the strange numbness that mutes my thoughts this evening.

It’s well over an hour later when I feel a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of it flooding my body with hope. I turn, but the face isn’t one I recognize. At least, not right away.

“Lux?”

There are two people standing beside me, actually. Then it hits me. “Josh, Mona, how cool to see you guys.” I hug them eagerly. “It’s been years. How’s it going?”

Mona, a stunning brunette, smiles warmly. “Really well. The kids are finally sleeping through the night, so we can get out of the house.”

Josh nods. “I barely recognize anyone here anymore.”

Three or four years ago, Josh and Mona were standbys at Paddled. Mona loves being spanked, and Josh enjoys dominating her in any way she enjoys. I used to play with them on occasion, in wanton affairs involving kink and sensuality. For a long time, I was very attracted to both of them, so having sex with either or both of them was even more fun.

“You look exactly the same, Lux,” Mona says after observing me closely. Her grin is seductive in a way that is so Mona.

I return the look. “You as well. Motherhood definitely agrees with you.”

“Hm, well, I’m glad to finally be able to get back to things I enjoy.” She squeezes Josh’s arm.

He looks at me, turning a bit bashful. “We were going to head home—the kids won’t sleep past six in the morning, so late nights are still not a possibility. But…we’d be open to having you join us for the evening.”

Any other time, I’d jump at the opportunity. To enjoy a sexual romp with two people I find wildly attractive…where do I sign up? Even though I still feel the old pull and would like nothing better than to be distracted by two beautiful people, my insides long for something else. I shake my head. “I wish I could. I’m not in a good place for that right now.”

“Ah, sweetie, is everything okay?” Mona lays her hand on my arm.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just in a bad head space.”

Josh squeezes my shoulder. “We know what that’s like.”

“Let me walk you out.”

We catch up on the way out of the club, Mona gushing over their two-year-old while Josh admits to being wrapped around his three-year-old daughter’s finger.

On the sidewalk, Josh hugs me, his hand lingering at my waist for just a moment. I’m surprised when Mona kisses me, but the contact feels wonderful, so I don’t push her away. It’s tantalizing, and they’ve always been very physical people, Mona especially.

As we say our final goodbyes, I hear a deep voice behind me. “I guess I can see why ye havna been returning my calls.”

Chapter 22

Out of Bounds

I turn on my heel, so stunned by his voice, I’m pretty sure my jaw drops open. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for ye.” Fin’s tone is harsh, turning his Scottish brogue dark and ferocious.

He wears jeans and a black sweater, and from where I stand, I can smell the spicy fragrance of his cologne combined with him that drives me crazy.

“How did you know I—”

“Stephen told me.”

I’m not sure if I’ve been set up or not, though I have a sneaky suspicion the earlier text I ignored was from Stephen. The part of me that’s excited to see him doesn’t care. The other part of me wants to run as fast as I can in the other direction.

“Just tell me why. That’s all I want to know. Was I just a fling for ye? A one night stand that ye got a bit carried away with?” Anger vibrates in his words, thickening his burr until I can barely understand him. Beneath the anger lies pain.

I bite my lip, refusing the emotions that coil in my gut. “I’m sorry, Fin. But I did warn you. I don’t do relationships well.”

“Aye, ye did warn me. But why? Because of our last night?”

Wrapping my arms around myself, I try to avoid the shiver that’s not wholly caused by the cool night air. “You mess with my head, Fin. It’s like…I know who I am. What I’m capable of. You make me want…other things. Things that I shouldn’t want.”

“Bullshit. It’s just sex, Lux. I ken that it’s a power play in yer world. But whether ye want to top or bottom, or just try something new, there’s nothing wrong with it. Ye’ve taught me that.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s not that. This is something more. Something you won’t even admit to yourself.”

The truth of his words slap me, but I dig in. “This is my career. It’s not ‘just sex.’ I have a fucking reputation, not to mention—how long is all this going to last? How long are you going to stand by and be okay with my job, when you’re jealous just seeing me with someone else when you don’t even know the context?” I fling my hand out, gesturing towards where I’d been standing with Mona and Josh. I’m grasping at straws, anything to keep him at a distance as I feel my defenses caving in.

“Don’t make it about that. I dinna give a shite whether you kiss some other woman—or man for that matter. Hell, I don’t even ken what yer job is, whether ye sleep with people or not, but I’ve never said one word about it, have I?” He takes a step a closer. “I want to ken why ye push everyone away when they try to get close to ye. Ye’re right—I am jealous, but not in the way ye think. I’m jealous of whoever it is that gets the truth from ye, rather than avoidance and silence. I’ve called ye twelve times. Twelve times! And texted ye more times than I can count. Ye’d think ye could at least let me know ye’re okay. No, I have to get that information from Noah.”

“Noah called you?”

“No, I called him. Just to make sure that ye were alive and not hurt in the hospital somewhere.”

If I didn’t feel like shit before (and I did), I’m beyond that now. “I’m sorry.” I stare at his feet, the ground, anywhere but at the pained look on his face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have responded, at least to tell you I was okay.” His stare bores into me, but I can’t meet it. Coward, thy name is Lux Trace.

“Aye, ye should’ve.” He blows out a breath and rakes his hands through his hair. “Are ye angry at me for tying you up? Do ye not trust me?”

I gnaw on the inside of my lip, but the tears burn my eyes regardless. “I don’t trust anyone, Fin. It’s not you. In this case, it really is all me.”

His face is a mask of frustration and hurt. “That first night we were together, ye cried in my arms, Lux. And that last night… ye seemed to enjoy yerself. But then ye shut down… I want to know why. I ken that this is difficult for ye, and I think I even ken why, but there’s things ye won’t tell me, and it keeps me in the dark. What happened to ye?”

I hate him for asking, but even more than that, I hate myself. For not knowing what to do or how to fix the brokenness that destroys everything I touch. Tears stream down my cheeks, unchecked. I stare at the sidewalk, trying to sort through the damage inside and the wreck I’m making.