by Eden Summers
“I can handle it.” At the very least, she deserved the opportunity to prove herself. She only wished Leo had as much faith in her as T.J. and Brute.
“I know you can.” T.J squeezed her shoulder. “Leo does too. He’s just a little touchy when it comes to downstairs.”
Touchy she could handle. What she couldn’t stand was the hit to her pride from a guy she had a female boner for.
“I better go check that Taste of Sin closed properly. I’ll catch you both later.” T.J. gave her shoulder another gentle squeeze and then made his way around the bar.
Shay watched him disappear into the crowd of dancing bodies and cursed herself for crushing on the wrong bar owner. Leo was too stubborn. The only problem was that he was exactly what she wanted in a guy. Apart from having the ability to melt her panties with a single glance, he was confident, capable and too deliciously sexy when he growled at her.
Their one scorching play session in the bar storeroom had been enough to cement her attraction to him. Confident and capable, Leo always exuded dominance and possession. Shay was certain he’d be the same in the sack. A wicked combination to tempt a woman who had never truly been satisfied by the opposite sex…or the same sex for that matter.
“So what’s the real problem here? Are you annoyed at Leo for not giving you the job opportunity, or are you pissed because he won’t sleep with you.”
Shay turned her gaze back to Brute with a gaping mouth. “You really need to research social filters.”
“Why? We’re close enough to cut the crap and I’m not going to waste my time beating around the bush.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Brute was the type to take pleasure in asking the questions nobody wanted to voice. “His aversion to sleeping with me has nothing to do with my annoyance.” She used the term loosely. They all knew she tended to bypass the annoyance stage and head straight to fury. “I can work any bar. Leo’s just being an ass.”
“Fair enough.” Brute shrugged, seeming unconvinced. “I’ll leave you to it. Just don’t sweat the simple stuff, sweetheart. If he hasn’t changed his mind by closing time, me and Mr. Attitude will have a chat.”
Even though he wasn’t the guy her libido craved, the term of endearment made her heart flutter. He may have been nicknamed for his brutality, but it didn’t stop her from searching for the soft and gooey center he pretended not to have. The guy had a heart. Somewhere. He just didn’t like to show it.
Brute strode away at the same time she noticed Leo standing in the doorway leading to the storeroom. His gaze was fixed on her, his jaw tight, chin raised. In an instant, the heart fluttering began to pound, from fury or attraction, she wasn’t sure.
She turned her back, unable to look at him without losing the last of her withering professionalism. Fucking asshole. His appeal defied logic. Not only was he worthy of naming rights to her vibrator, she was pretty sure toy manufacturers would kill to mold the package outlined in the crotch of his butt-hugging Chino’s. The annoying part was that he wasn’t just a panty-wetting machine due to his looks. He actually had a surprisingly enjoyable personality—for a male. Well, he used to. He used to be playful and flirty and charming…until the night he slid his hand into her pants and then backed away like he’d armed a bomb.
“Now I’m just another easy bar wench.”
“Excuse me?” He came up behind her, his shadow falling over her shoulder.
She turned and pinned him with a death stare. “I said, go fuck yourself.”
He raised a brow, the side of his heart-stopping lips tilting. “You’re quick to bite my head off tonight.”
She scoffed and nudged passed him. “Yeah, and funnily enough, you’re the one acting like you’ve got PMS.” She strode around the bar and into the dancing crowd illuminated in purple light. This time, she hoped he didn’t follow. She needed space from all his self-assured gorgeousness, and she was owed a twenty minute break.
Palming the phone in her pocket to make sure it didn’t fall out, she bumped through the mass of gyrating bodies and headed toward the opposite side of the building. As she approached the guarded entrance to the fancy-schmancy private club, she scowled at the guard manning the door. It wasn’t his fault she was crabby, but the fucks she gave about who took the brunt of her anger were nowhere to be found.
“Shay!” Leo’s voice rose over the heavy pulse of music. “Hold up.”
She paused, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child.
“You really want to go down there?” he asked over her shoulder.
She turned on him. “It’s not about wanting to go down there.” She raised her voice, hoping it didn’t waiver. “It’s about you not giving a shit about how hard I work. I’m the one who stays late to help clean up.” She tapped her chest with a pointed finger. “I’m the one who works overtime in the restaurant if someone calls in sick.” Tap. “I’m the one all the regulars come to because they know I remember their drink order.” She poked him in the sternum. “Your attitude is a kick in the face to all the effort I put in.”
Leo glanced around with disinterest. “You finished?”
“Do I look like I’m finished?” she grated and then thought better of continuing the hissy fit when clearly he didn’t care. “Forget it.” Turning, she pushed passed a couple making out and stormed for the nearest exit. As she strode by the guard at the private entrance, a hand grabbed her upper arm, pulling her back.
“Hey, Jeff, you mind letting us in?” Leo asked.
The colossal guard’s brows knitted as his gaze lowered to the grip tightening on her arm. “Sure thing, boss.”
He pushed open the bulky door and stepped to the side, eyeing them with concern as Leo hauled her into the darkness. When the door closed, Shay’s heart rocketed into her throat. In here, it was quieter, almost deafeningly so, and the faint thump, thump, thump of bass barely breached the walls. The light from the club had been extinguished too, making her eyes work to adjust to an even darker environment.
A quick glimpse to her left showed a narrow staircase with crimson wallpaper lining the walls and plush carpet under her feet. The area was more compact than she imagined, more intimate, especially when she stood toe-to-toe with a man who stole her breath.
“You know your grip is bordering on harassment.”
His hand fell away as she gazed up into his shadowed features.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t expect you to throw a tantrum.”
Tantrum? “If I wasn’t furious right now, I’d be belting you with a plethora of insults.” She shouldered him out of the way, no longer giving a shit about what treasures lurked below. He could take his private club and shove it where rich people don’t shine. She was a fucking brilliant bartender, and if Leo didn’t appreciate her skills, she might have to leave and find a bar owner who did. Stupid lust-filled crush be damned.
She gripped the door handle and plunged the leaver, but as soon as she pulled, Leo wrapped a strong arm around her waist. Time stopped, along with her breathing, while the heat of his chest invaded her lungs. She could smell his sweet, exotic aftershave. Could feel his warm exhalations tickling her neck as she fought to keep her posture straight and defiant.
“Being a great employee has nothing to do with my reasons for not wanting you in here,” he whispered, his tone full of menace.
She raised her chin, hating the way her core contracted and her nipples beaded beneath her bra. “Then why?”
He dropped his arm from her waist and the heat from his body disappeared. She turned in the silence, wishing she could make out his face clearly as he stepped back.
“Why, Leo?”
The sparing dim lights stretching along the roof didn’t reach the far corner where he stood. She couldn’t see his eyes, only the faint jutting of his chin and his straightened shoulders. She could sense a bravado settling over him, yet she had no clue w
hy.
“This game we play,” he started, leaning back to rest against the wall. “I enjoy it. The banter, the tension. Even the way your flirting grabs hold of my dick and won’t let go.” He paused, as if sensing she needed a moment to let his words sink in. “I don’t want to ruin that.”
Her heart lurched. “Okay.” She’d never played games. Every time she’d flirted, she’d done it with intent, with the sole focus of not only getting in his bed, but in his heart. She sure as shit wasn’t going to correct him though. Not when he was being such an ass. “Where is this speech going? You’ve already made it crystal you don’t want to be with me, so why all the dramatics?”
Silence. Then there was a long, drawn-out sigh that dried her throat.
“Follow me.”
He started down the stairs, and she cursed herself for following behind so quickly. No matter how willing she’d been to walk out the door, curiosity still won. She needed to know what was at the end of the staircase.
As they descended, crisp, cool air danced around her heels, filtered in through air vents near the floor. The atmosphere was different to the bubbly purple and silver of the main area of Shot of Sin. In here, she struggled to fight unease. She could see picture frames lining the walls, and when they reached the first, she stopped and did a double-take. She expected a landscape, or maybe autographed images from people who’d made their way into this exclusive part of the club. But it was neither.
The first frame held a black and white photograph of a naked couple, intimately entwined. It was erotic, graphic, and when Leo glanced over his shoulder, she felt like she’d been caught with a hand in her own private cookie jar.
The beauty of the image made her feel inadequate. Here she was in a tight black Shot-of-Sin tank and jeans, while they bared their bodies and souls for art. It was spectacular and oddly confounding. Why would Leo, T.J. or even Brute for that matter, pick out something so graphic to decorate their private club?
She shook away the confusion and followed after the sculpted shoulders continuing down the stairs. More images passed by, all with couples in erotic poses—men with women, women with women, and more delicious than she would’ve imagined, muscled men with sexy muscled men. Each shot was beautiful in its own striking way, but now Shay was beyond bewildered and heading for freak-out central.
The darkness, the silence, the sex lining the walls, it set her fertile mind to work on some pretty heavy ideas. By the time she reached the last step, she was staring at Leo’s back in contemplation, her palms sweating and not from exertion. Finally, his warnings had sunk in, and she thought better of pushing him to the point of dragging her down here. For the first time since becoming an independent adult, she felt anxious.
“That’s the locker room.”
Leo’s voice startled her, and she glanced from his back to see him pointing to a closed door highlighted with one small light above the frame.
“Patrons are encouraged to leave valuables at home, but everything else gets locked up in there.”
“Everything else?” she asked, tagging along behind him.
He ignored her, not faltering in his dominant stride as he pointed to another closed door. “And that is the change room.”
“Change room?” she asked louder. “What is all this for?”
He continued to the end of the hall, to a padded door bathed in glowing light. A keypad was positioned on the wall at chest height, the numbers aglow in bright blue. She glanced from the keypad to the back of Leo’s head with growing apprehension. What required all this secrecy and security?
“Are you going to answer me?” Her voice waivered.
He always had a quick word to say. In fact, he usually had the final word in every conversation, yet now he was silent. Toot toot. All aboard the freak-out train. “Leo?”
He turned to her and waved a lazy arm toward the door. “This is what you wanted.”
She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. She was looking for a clue, a tiny hint to make her laugh off the impending heart attack. Only, in the brighter light, she could see the worry around his eyes, the troubling furrow to his brow.
“Ladies first.”
He indicated for her to step in front and she reluctantly complied. Once she was a foot away from the door, he moved behind her, leaned close and hovered his fingers over the keypad.
“On the other side of the door isn’t just a VIP lounge. It’s an exclusive club, something someone like you wouldn’t be familiar with.”
Someone like me? Now he was trying to make her feel inferior for not being wealthy or famous? She turned her head, glaring at the side of his face. “Insult me one more time…”
“And what?” His mouth quirked and he met her stare with a raised brow.
She got in his face, close enough she was caught between wanting to slam her fist into his perfect nose or smash her mouth against his. “And I’ll…” She bit back her anxiety-riddled reply. “Don’t worry, Leo,” she snarled his name. “I won’t embarrass you in front of whatever pretentious, high-powered people you have in there.”
He chuckled, soft and low. “It’s not them I’m worried about.”
Before she could question his comment, his fingers were on the keypad, entering a four-digit number. The door buzzed, and he flung it wide. A fresh burst of cool air filtered forward, and her eyes widened, not only at the porn playing on the huge television in front of her, but at the unmistakable sounds of sex that weren’t coming through in Dolby digital quality. Oh no, the noises she heard were real-life unscripted feminine moans and brutal grunts coming from another room.
Holy shit.
“Welcome to Vault of Sin, Shay,” he drawled.
Her mouth worked, unable to form words as her gaze went in search of where the lust-filled sounds were coming from. “Is this a brothel?” she blurted, her focus now glued to the woman being hammered on screen by two men.
“No!”
“A sex club?” Her voice was suddenly high-pitched.
“Surprise,” he muttered, nudging her into the room and closing the door behind them.
Holy adolescent hormones.
Her mouth gaped. How had she not known this was going on right underneath her feet? And for how long? Shay glanced around in a daze, scoping out the small room with an archway at the far wall. Apart from the screen full of orgasmic undulation, there was a leather couch, a dimly lit lamp and a basket in the corner with items she wasn’t sure she wanted to know about.
“This is the chill-out room.” Leo strode forward, heading for the archway. “A place for newbies to settle in before joining the fun.”
Fun? She released an awkward chuckle.
Leo’s relaxed stride added to her horror. She tried not to contemplate how many hours it took down here to get that way. How many women he’d seen. How many orgasms he’d heard. She shook her head, ignoring the bite of jealousy nipping at her ribs, the cloying adrenaline rushing through her veins and the slight buzz of arousal.
“You coming?” He stood at the archway with a raised brow.
“Obviously not right at this very moment.” She straightened her shoulders and took pleasure in the way Leo’s gaze lowered to her breasts. He was smart enough to figure out she was fighting her discomfort through sarcasm, and she didn’t have the sense to care. It was the only reliable strategy she had to calm down and stop her from rushing back up those stairs. “It takes more than porn to get this motor running.”
“If memory serves, it can take a lot less.”
Argh! How did he do that? Take all the rushing emotions flowing through her body and replace them instantly with the need to choke him.
Ignoring his deep chuckle, she ground her teeth and strengthened her resolve as she came up behind him. Together, they stepped into a larger room and her knees threatened to give out. She’d tried to prepare herself, yet her imagination h
adn’t been equipped to create the cavern of carnality before her.
There were beds. A hammock. Leather couches. A sex swing. And half were occupied with writhing naked bodies. Numerous television screens played different porn scenes while the bar stood alone in the back corner, the only surface in the room currently safe from copulation.
The whimpers, groans, grunts and screams hit her like physical blows, making her step back, dizzy with adrenaline. She didn’t know where to look—at the huge cock plowing into the woman to her right, the spread thighs of the female giving head to a muscle-ripped black guy, or the safe and easy bartender who polished a glass, unfazed by the room filled with the smell of sex and sweat.
“Ready to put your tail between your legs and run back upstairs?” Leo taunted.
She raised her chin. “Bite me.” Asshole.
He gave a predatory chuckle and leaned into her, his lips brushing her ear. “You’re in my territory now, Shay. Don’t tempt me with dares I’d be more than willing to fulfil.”
Her knees weakened, her breathing becoming labored as he turned and strutted like a fucking peacock toward the bar. She didn’t like this. Not one little bit. Upstairs, she held the upper hand. The bars were her domain. She was king of that freaking castle. Down here was the opposite. This was Leo’s territory. The way he baited her only proved how comfortable he felt in this environment. And unfortunately for her, she was entirely out of her depth.
“Leo,” she scolded, trying not to distract the patrons from their…patronage.
He ignored her, giving her no choice but to follow in his footsteps like a lost puppy. She came up beside him at the bar, still shaking and skittish when he placed his hand at the low of her back and indicated to the bartender unpacking the dishwasher under the counter.
“Travis, this is Shay.”
The mocha-skinned man threw his dishcloth on the counter and hit her with a seductive grin. “Hey, Shay.” He held out a hand. “Welcome to the fun house.”
She shook his hand, letting the warmth of his palm soothe her, holding on longer than necessary for the support.