Sin (10 page)

I’m not sure how Bishop slipped through security without Joshua noticing, but when Dave called me to the DJ booth and told me someone was waiting for me in VIP, I never expected it to be him. Never. Doesn’t that Hippocratic Oath forbid physicians from being sexual? I wish. If anything, his profession makes him more aware of the physical world, fearlessly responsive to his own needs.

I approach his table very slowly, taking in his appearance. He’s wearing charcoal-gray slacks and a pale blue slim-fit dress shirt. It shows off his excellent physique. And I’m already feeling uncomfortable. “Bishop?”

He turns and smiles. “Macey—sit down.” He stands, then pulls out the chair next to him. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I’m wearing something extra-skimpy tonight. A paper-thin, black lace bodysuit that leaves little to the imagination. “Didn’t think you’d hang out in a place like this.”

He folds his hands on the table. “Why?”

I don’t know. He just seems out of place, like expensive dinnerware at a picnic.

“There’s a fine line between indulging and
overindulging,”
he comments.

“Is that what you’re doing tonight?” I ask. “Indulging?”

“Perhaps.” He flashes me one of those
make-your-legs-quiver
smiles again. “I’d like to spend some time with you.”

He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, an Asprey no less. Then he places five one-hundred-dollar bills on the table in front of me. “Dance for me, Macey.”

Oh. My. God.
He’s drawing that proverbial line in the sand. If a full frontal attack doesn’t work, hit me from behind. “Joshua will freak out if he finds us together.”

He rubs his chin. “He’s a cynical bastard,” he says. “Business is business. And profit, Ms. Taylor…” He taps the bills. “…is a universal language.”

He’s essentially correct. I’m here to make money. Spending time with Bishop in this controlled environment is better than dancing for some drunk who keeps pawing me in the main room. I stare at the VIP entrance. Joshua usually stays inside his office or the security room this time of night. There are no cameras in VIP. However, by midnight, he’ll make his rounds, and Dr. Singletary had better be gone before I turn into a fucking smashed pumpkin.

I wait for the next song. Slash’s “World on Fire” comes on and I laugh so hard it hurts.

“What?” Bishop asks, completely unaware of what the song suggests.

“Nothing.” I stand.

He pushes his chair back and spreads his legs wide. That’s when I see the outline of his fully erect cock. I turn, completely unprepared. I try to block it out and spin around, facing away from him, my movements matching the ripping beat of the song. He wasn’t lying when he told me he was attracted to me. I kneel, arching, the back of my head resting on the edge of his chair. He gazes down at me, his eyes sharply focused on mine. I squeeze my breasts together with my elbows, pumping my hips.

The lyrics
set this world on fire
resonate and I spin around, still crouched between his knees. I peel my bodysuit off, ending up on my back, my legs in the air. Dave follows up with “Drown” by Theory of a Deadman. I jump up, draping my left leg over Bishop’s shoulder, arching back and raising my head, meeting his consuming stare again.

“Anything you want,” he whispers. “Name it.”

I don’t answer.

The song ends abruptly and I struggle to catch my breath. He clutches my hand, pulling me down so he can whisper in my ear. “This is just the beginning.” Then he stuffs the hundreds in the side of my G-string.

I don’t like him
overpaying—he’s
not just a customer, he’s Joshua’s neighbor. And he’s trying to impress me on so many levels. “Fifty dollars,” I say. “Not five hundred.”

“Consider it an investment.”

I cross my arms over my breasts. “In what?”

“Seducing you.”

He has the perfect poker face. There’s not even a hint of mischief in his eyes. And that’s what unhinges me the most. Men are cut from the same cloth, visual creatures. And when you dance for them, they can’t keep their mouths shut. Bishop’s reactions, other than his hard-on, are nonexistent.

“Macey,” Dave announces over the microphone, “stand by.”

I collect my costume. “I’m onstage next.”

“I’ll be there.”

Butterfly wings flutter in my stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He grins—so cool and confident. And I begin to wonder again what happened between Joshua and him. Why won’t this guy find someone else to latch onto? Joshua is only a few years younger. I think Bishop is thirty-one or two. Joshua is twenty-seven. Is this a childhood rivalry? I don’t know and I’m afraid to ask. I make it to the restroom with barely enough time to re-dress and straighten my hair. It’s all about sexy black tonight, and I smile at myself in the mirror before I head to the main stage.

Just as I exit my office, I look over at the main stage and find Bishop sitting dead center, a line of bills in front of him. Macey is dancing for another customer on the other end of the stage.
Fuck.
He’s ratcheted the competition up a notch and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him get away with it. Macey is mine.

Although the stage is jammed with guys, I find an empty seat next to Bishop. He doesn’t notice me, and I don’t say anything. I sit and wait. After a couple of minutes, Macey sashays over, her swaying hips nearly making me forget why I’m here. She frowns at me, her eyes telling me everything I need to know. She doesn’t want me to cause a scene. And I won’t. But I refuse to be one-upped by this arrogant bastard I have to live next door to.

She kneels in front of Bishop, stretching the side of her G-string open so he can tip her. He decorates her with three fifties, which I promptly match. That’s when his head snaps right and he sees me. I growl—not hiding my disdain.

“Camden.” He smirks.

I lean in. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I hear him exhale. “Enjoying the view.” He turns away, offering Macey another tip.

She accepts it, but looks between Bishop and me, worry lines etching her forehead. She hunches over the edge of the stage, right between us. “Stop it,
both
of you.”

“You expect me to ignore his blatant attempts to hit on you?”

“No,” she says. “But can we put this off until I’m done onstage?” She scans the immediate area. Customers are lined up to tip her. “Please?”

I nod
sympathetically.
This is the perfect example of why I wanted to change the fraternization rule: couples don’t work well together in this business. Jealousy and every other goddamned negative emotion you can think of rears its ugly head at the most inopportune times. I’d give up a year of my life to drag Bishop outside and beat the shit out of him. But I can’t. I’m supposed to set an example for the rest of the staff.

Yet that won’t keep me from fantasizing about my fist connecting with his face.

“Meet me in the VIP room,” I hiss at Bishop, standing up.

“Sure.” He shrugs. “Macey and I already have a table.”

I glare at Macey. Even though she’s already moved away, I know she can see me out of the corner of her eye. Putting up with Bishop tipping her onstage is one thing; letting her sit with him in VIP, another. It won’t happen again. I stalk to the front bar. Glenda greets me.

“Have a waitress deliver a round of tequila to the VIP.”

“Yes, sir.” She doesn’t question me.

By the time I reach VIP, Bishop is already there. I pick up a chair on the opposite side of his table, then slam it down. Our eyes meet. Our past and present are about to have a head-on collision. “Stay away from Macey.”

“Come on, Camden,” he says. “Just having a little fun.”

“It’s not open for discussion.”

“Should have thought about that ten years ago,” he reminds me, the bitterness in his voice alerting me to the fact that he still hasn’t forgotten about Esmeralda.

“Time to let that go.”

“Can’t do it,” he says, flipping the cardboard coaster on the table in front of him over. “Too much bad history between our families to let you win.”

“I was in high school. We were both drunk.”

“And I was away at med school when you decided to fuck the girl I wanted to marry.”

I can’t deny it. Esmeralda Brooks, the hottest girl in Kingsville, was engaged to Bishop. But after he left for school, she went crazy, partying and hitting on every member of the wrestling team. I gave her what she wanted. “Macey is off-limits.”

“No, she’s not.”

I fist my hands. “Don’t test me, Bishop.”

A waitress arrives with our drinks. I hand her a twenty and send her away. I drink my shot and wait. Hatred swells inside me. Ten fucking years. It’s a lifetime. But he can’t forget. His father killed my cousin. That makes us more than even. But I won’t resurrect that ghost unless I’m forced to. Twenty minutes later, Macey joins us.

She sits next to me. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to establish some ground rules tonight.”

Her shoulders tense. “All right.”

“I won’t eighty-six him, but I don’t want you table dancing for him anymore. Understand?”

She nods. I face Bishop next. “If I catch you near her again, hear about you asking her out, even suspect that you’re sniffing around my goddamned door, I’ll kill you.”

“Joshua?” Macey grabs my hand.

“No…” I won’t let her talk me down. “This isn’t about you, baby,” I say. “Not directly. This goes back a decade. Remember I told you about our bad blood? Nothing can fix it.” I stand, hands shaking. “Say your goodbyes, then meet me in my office.” I don’t wait around. If I do, I’ll follow through on the threat I just made.

Joshua’s office door is open halfway. I’m beyond nervous. Even Bishop shut down after Joshua stormed away. When someone the size of Joshua threatens to kill you, it gives you cause to listen. That unfettered rage changed the way I’ll look at my new boyfriend forever. I feel his pain. And that’s what this is all about. Julia’s
infidelity—Wesley—and
now this years-old vendetta between him and Bishop.

“Inside,” he calls.

I always forget about the security camera outside his office. I peek inside first. He’s sitting on the couch, his legs crossed.

“Close and lock the door, Macey.”

I do.

He’s staring at me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m in a hurry to get yelled at. Even though I probably deserve it. Dancing for Bishop was a stupid move. Somehow I got sucked into the doctor’s game. He’s incredibly persuasive.

“You pushed your luck tonight.”

Should I just apologize or stand my ground for the sake of pride? “If you spent more time
managing
the club instead of me, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed Bishop was here.”

He laughs. “Sales are up twenty percent. I’m doing my job. Are you?”

He can answer questions with questions all he likes—that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like being cornered. I’ve spent enough time with Joshua to know how stubborn he is. “Isn’t that what pissed you off, me doing my job?”

He clasps his hands together, his thumbs circling each other. It’s like his thinking speedometer, and it appears he’s going too fast. “There are dozens of customers out there. Why’d you pick Bishop?”

“I didn’t.” He probably doesn’t believe me. But at some point, if this relationship is going to grow, he needs to stop doubting me when it comes to Bishop. “Dave sent me to VIP. I was just as shocked as you were to find him waiting for me.”

“You should have walked away.”

“And let him think he has influence or control over our relationship?” I thrust my hand on my hip. “Maybe that’s what they teach you in college, Ivy League, but in the real world, you don’t give people that kind of satisfaction.”

“Did you like dancing for him?” His eyes narrow and his frown deepens.

My shoulders sag. “That’s not a fair question.”

He leans forward, spreads his legs, then rests his palms on his knees. “Answer me. Are you attracted to Bishop?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Are you trying to drive me crazy, Macey? Because if you are…” He launches off the sofa, knocking the breath out of me when our bodies collide. He thumbs my chin, lifting my face. “You’re doing a helluva job.”

I try to shake him off, but he wraps his arm around my waist, tugging me closer. “This isn’t who I like to be.”

“Hah.” I doubt that, he’s too good at it.

“Goddamnit.” He captures my mouth, his angry tongue forcing its way between my lips. Desire instantly heats my core and I melt into him.

I rake my nails across his back, as pissed off now as he is. I don’t like being questioned. I’m not some teenage girl sleeping around. He grabs a fistful of my hair and forces my head back, exposing my throat. His velvet tongue leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses behind, then he clutches my ass with both hands and gives me a good shake.

Our gazes lock and we’re both panting. “Ever notice something about when you want to make love?” I ask.

His eyebrows arch in question.

“Whenever you’re jealous, you like to fuck.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, because he lifts me off the ground like I weigh two pounds and drops me on the sofa. Before I have time to recover, he’s on me, straddling my hips. I’m more than turned on and fumble with his belt, unbuckling it, and rip it off his waist. I throw it across the room. Then I unzip his pants, seeking what I want. He’s hot and hard and I cradle his cock with both hands, squeezing and stroking until he closes his eyes and groans. I want him in my mouth, but he’s too heavy and unyielding to move. Instead, I just apply more pressure, increasing the intensity of my movements. Just when I think he’s about to come, he changes tactics. He cinches my wrists together with one hand and lifts them above my head. I squirm underneath him, knowing where he’s headed. This bodysuit has a naughty feature: it’s crotchless.

With my wrists still pinned over my head, he quickly repositions himself. “Spread your legs, Macey.”

I shake my head—wanting to play disobedient dancer.

“Do it.” His eyes are like burning coals.

I clamp my thighs together.

He uses his knee like a pry bar, forcing my legs apart. I marvel at his beauty and masculinity. I want to be
dominated—fucked
senseless for once. And I’ve never met anyone more capable than Joshua. Tightening his grip on my wrists, he yanks my G-string aside, then plunges two fingers inside me. I cry out, the sweet invasion better than anything I can remember. He’s relentless. But when he leans forward and takes my mouth, his frantic and punishing kisses almost make me lose it. He pinches my clitoris at the same time, the perfect combination of pleasure and pain. I grind against his hand, harder and harder, forcing my orgasm, desperate to peak.

He’s claiming me.
All of me.

But before I get to finish, he withdraws his fingers, suspending me over the edge.

“Stand up, Macey.” I gaze up at him, his eyes menacing and dark.

I don’t want to be compliant—he doesn’t deserve it. He’s teasing me.

I shake my head.

“Now.”

“No.”

He sighs, then carefully gets up, removing his shoes and pants. I watch, admiring his legs. His calf muscles are huge; the left one is tattooed with a medieval sword, the steel-blue blade pointed heavenward, disappearing in a black sky. Other than that, he’s unmarked. No piercings or scars. My gaze slides up his center, stopping on his erection. Another part of his anatomy that leaves me breathless: he’s incredibly thick. I swallow, hard, wanting him inside me.

He towers over me then, a cryptic expression on his face. “Kneel in the middle of the couch. Place your palms on the wall.”

This is the side of him I crave more of. We have happy sex all the time, but I prefer the monotone control freak. The sexy, brooding wrestler that can pin me down anytime he wants to. This time I obey. I scramble to my knees, facing the wall, placing my hands where he directed me to, gathering my hair to one side. It’s all in the moment. The excitement of surrendering control to someone who could easily overpower you anyway.

“Good girl,” he says, then I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck.

He nips, licks, then nips again. My legs quiver. Then he gently spreads my knees wider, encouraging me to arch my back more. I do. He’s made no attempt to remove my bodysuit or stilettos. Black lace and heels are as potent as an aphrodisiac. When he slides his cock down my back, I moan.
Good God.
I’m getting as impatient as he usually is—I need him to forgo foreplay and just give me what I want.

As if he read my mind and body, he shuffles behind me. I envision him grasping his cock, aligning it with my center, pushing in an inch, feeling the heat and wetness, gritting his teeth, then just letting go, feeding me his length without hesitation…

Joshua hammers into me. “Yes!” I scream. “Again.”

He clamps onto my hips, withdraws, then pumps into me repeatedly, his message clear. Call it branding, owning me, or simple domination. I don’t care. My mind scrambles. Every brutal strike brings me closer. I dig my fingernails into the wall, preparing for the next blow.
Bang!
Again. “Mine.” I barely hear it I’m so absorbed in my own thoughts, my climax one stroke away. “Mine,” he repeats.

“Yours,” I offer. Completely.

Then he reaches around me, finding my clitoris again. Two seconds later, the fire of my climax sets him off. We both cry out at the same time, our bodies rigid with pleasure. I collapse against the couch, and he falls on top of me. I can feel his heartbeat hammering against my back. Breathless and feeling utterly sedated, I don’t care if we stay this way for the rest of the night.

“Macey,” he whispers near my ear.

“Yes?” I can’t find any other words.

“You’re mine, baby.”

I reluctantly detach myself from Macey’s warm body and pad into the half-bath. I flip the light on. I grab a couple of hand towels and turn the hot water on. I’m still recovering, my heart rate slowly returning to normal. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. That’s why I’m jealous and apparently inspired to have explosive sex whenever Bishop or Wesley shows up. It’s not intentional, and I didn’t realize it until after she pointed it out.

I wet the towels, then turn the spigot off. I clean myself off and throw the dirty towel in the trash can.

“Joshua?”

“Right here.” I hover in the doorway, admiring her. She’s standing near my desk, looking as sated as I feel. I join her, brushing my knuckles across her cheek. “You’re beautiful, Macey,” I say quietly. She blushes and our foreheads meet. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

She weaves her fingers through mine, raising my hand to her lips. She kisses it twice, sending a chill up my spine. “I want us to have a trusting relationship, Joshua.”

She’s right. It’s not a lack of faith in her. “I trust you, baby. But I won’t let anyone get between us. Not Julia, Bishop, or Wesley. Our exes forfeited their rights by cheating. As for the doc…” My blood heats up just thinking about him. “It all depends on how he proceeds from here. You can’t expect me to—”

She holds her fingers to my lips, shushing me. “I know.”

Does she? I’m in love with her and won’t risk telling her because she’ll run. She’s skittish. And I need to win her complete confidence before I ask her to consider taking this relationship to the next level. Taking her home to meet my family is the first step. She’s been without a family of her own for so long, I’m afraid she’s forgotten what it feels like to just relax and let someone else take care of her. I hope it’s therapeutic for both of us.

I step back, offering her a towel. She smiles, takes it, and heads for the bathroom. Of course my eyes are glued to her ass the whole way. I love the way she walks. I love the way that lace hugs her curves. But as soon as she takes off that bodysuit, I might burn it.

She shuts the door and I get dressed. It’s after midnight now. She’s spending the night at my condo and then we’re going to drive to Kingsville after breakfast tomorrow. Three days on the ranch—riding horses, swimming, and watching sunsets together. The only other woman I’ve ever brought home was Julia. My mother knows what happened. She asked me to forgive her, and I considered it at first because I know how badly my mom wants grandchildren. That need grew stronger after my dad died.

But I couldn’t. Every time I tried to touch or kiss Julia, I remembered another man had been inside her. Banishing that kind of memory from my mind is impossible, and what she did was unforgivable. So I moved back to Corpus, never expecting to meet someone else so soon.

When the bathroom door opens, I look up. “Permission to leave work early?” she asks.

“Granted,” I say, knowing we both want more of what we just shared.