Club Prive: Sweet Escape (Kindle Worlds Novella) (10 page)

He leans down until his mouth is centimeters from my own. “Excellent suggestion, Miss Beck. For starters, this isn’t allowed…” His kiss is soft, then grows deeper as his tongue sweeps against my own in a warm, melting exploration. “Or this.” He rolls my nipples between his fingers.

“So this would be a no-no?” I ask and cup him through his pants.

“Correct, as would this.” He pushes mine down to my thighs and takes a big handful of my ass.

I reach around him and turn off the faucets, stepping out of the clothes now around my ankles. “So basically, we shouldn’t look at or touch each other, or be in the same room. Is that a good summation?”

“I like how concise you are.”

Slowly, I push his shirt off his shoulders. “But we aren’t in the hospital, so boundaries don’t apply right now.”

He kicks off his shoes and pulls his belt from the loops. With a grin, he doubles it in his hand and strikes his palm with the leather.

I stare at it. “Uh… red.” The safe word comes out in a squeak.

He laughs and tosses it on the floor. “I told you, we’ll explore your pain tolerance another day.”

“Why do you enjoy inflicting pain?” I ask him as his pants slide to the floor. He’s left in boxers and socks, and the combination makes me smile.

“I had a rough childhood,” he begins and the smile slides from my face. “My mom was a crack ho with a pimp who beat and molested me until she OD’d.”

My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

He tosses one sock aside, then the next. “It’s okay because I was adopted when I was four by a rich family and became a billionaire when I was in my twenties.”

Wait a minute.
I cock my head to the side and look up at him, trying to read his face.

“But no amount of money could get rid of the need to spank and fuck brown haired women because they reminded me of my mom.”

I’m embarrassed to admit how long it took me to get it, but I’m happy it was less than fifteen seconds for the light bulb to click on. It’s my turn to growl and I poke him in the chest with my finger. “Did you just Fifty Shade me?”

He’s grinning like a fool while pushing his boxers down his legs. He lifts a shoulder. “It’s a running joke in Dom 101 class.”

My mouth falls open, and he pokes me on a nipple. “You’re gullible. I love it. This is going to be fun.”

Before I can say “I’m glad I’m not wearing a tampon,” he snatches me to him and I’m in the tub, sitting between his legs, my back to his chest. His hands are doing wonderful things to the muscles in my arms.

“So … are your parents alive and happy?” I venture.

His chuckle vibrates through me. “Yes, they are. And I had a wonderful childhood with my brother and two sisters, by the way.”

“So you like spanking women for kicks?”

He wraps his hand around the bun I quickly put on top of my head and pulls my head back until I’m looking up at him. “I like pushing limits and trying new things, seeing if what I imagine can become true in reality.”

“So vanilla sex is boring for you?”

His cock twitches against my back. “Maybe I just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“Do you like to be spanked?”

Water sloshes over the side of the tub he laughs so hard. It’s a good half a minute before he can talk again. “I like when your nails scratch down my back,” he says into my ear, ignoring my question.

I turn until I’m kneeling between his legs. He picks up a sponge and douses it with liquid soap and starts washing my shoulders.

“What else do you like?”

His pupils grow larger. “I like when you use your teeth on me.”

I find him in the water, feel him pulse under my fingers. With my other hand, I cup his balls, rolling them in my palm. “Do you like that?”

“Mmm, very much.”

“I can’t believe how comfortable I am with you,” I admit as I stroke my finger down his perineum and watch his eyes close. The sponge doesn’t stop its movement across my back.

“I thought you believed in everything.” His eyes are open again, gazing into mine.

I lean in and brush his lips so lightly it’s barely a touch. But it’s everything. Every wish I didn’t allow myself to make. Every dream I forced myself to wake up from. Every possibility I’d never known is within my reach.

“I do believe. For other people. I just never thought it would happen for me.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I kissed a woman?” he asks me and shifts us until I’m in his lap, straddling his hips, my sex pressing against the length of his erection.

“How long?”

“Three years.”

“Why?” I stroke his beard and run a thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re so good at it.”

He sucks my thumb into his mouth, biting the pad of it. Pain flairs, igniting me further. “Kissing is the most intimate thing humans can do.”

I raise an eyebrow and roll my hips, his cock sliding between my folds. “More than this?”

“For me, yes.”

“Did someone hurt you? And if you dare say a woman broke your heart because she promised to never leave then left after you whipped her with a belt, I’ll toss you from my apartment.”

“You stole my lines.” God, his smile is so very beautiful. “As I got older, I became more jaded, I guess you could say. I didn’t want to give up sex, but I didn’t want to share every part of myself with anyone. My brother had just gotten his heart broken and we were drinking, bitching about women. We made a drunken vow to not kiss someone until we knew they were special.” He lifts a shoulder. “I took the vow seriously.”

“What makes me special?”

“Besides your beautiful face and rockin’ hot body? Or the way you smell or smile or talk? Your bravery and strength. Your sense of humor. Your dedication to your patients. Your work ethic.”

I squirm on top of him. “You didn’t know about any of that last night.”

He moves his fingers to my ribs, then lower to trace my scar. “Last night, this touched me deeply. Not that you were hurt, but the tattoos and your desire to live in spite of the pain you’d suffered.”

I swallow hard and my heart squeezes, then picks up its rhythm. “I want to tell you something. It’s the reason I haven’t been with a man in a long time.”

“I already know.”

Adrenaline spikes and I pull back from him so I can see his face clearly. I ask, “Wh-what do you think you know?”

“After you left last night, I kicked myself for not getting your number. This morning, I called a private investigator friend to search for you.”

I’m not sure if I’m warmed or offended by this information, so I stay quiet.

“Then you showed up in that meeting, and after that, I didn’t have a minute to myself to cancel the investigation. When you were sleeping, I got an email. The PI connected you to a story about your parents. There was a great deal of media coverage.”

He knows. He knows and he’s still here with me. He wipes away the lone tear that escapes.

“But why has that kept you from being with a man?”

I take a deep breath. “My last boyfriend, I was crazy about him.”

Gray growls deep in his chest.

“I told him about what happened with my sister. About her killing my parents, about her psychotic behavior prior to that night.” I meet Gray’s eyes. “And he became afraid of me. Like I must have been touched by the same psychosis.”

“Oh, Avery.”

“It was like that after … after it happened. My friends didn’t want to see me and everyone talked about me behind my back. I’d gone to live with my grandparents, but they were in the same community, so I didn’t change schools or anything like that.”

“People are stupid.”

I lift a shoulder. “But Paul. He took it even further and told everyone on campus. I thought I’d escaped the ‘look there’s the girl with the crazy sister’ part of my life, but it was back. Someone told the media and the story got picked back up. If I hadn’t been so close to graduating, I probably would have quit and gone back to grandma and grandpa’s farm to lick my wounds. But I’d already been accepted in PA school and I just couldn’t go back.”

“Is that when you changed your name?”

I should have been surprised, but wasn’t. My life was written in black and white for all to see. “Yeah. And there’s only one person I’ve told since then.”

“Brooke?”

I nod. “I told her before I accepted her offer of the apartment.”

“And she still offered you the apartment.”

“Yes. She was so cool about it. She said something like, ‘Well, we’ll just lock up the knives.’”

He laughs and then I’m laughing and then his mouth is on mine again. Then he lifts me from the water and carries me to my bed to make love to me with such tenderness that I cry from the sheer beauty of our connection, and hope rolls over me like a wave.

Maybe, just maybe something in my life won’t crash and burn. Maybe I can find something special outside of work. A fulfillment that I’d longed for since I was a teenager reading Harlequin romances.

When it’s time for him to go, I walk him out and Brooke is sitting on the couch, working on her laptop, earbuds firmly in her ears. She looks up and smiles at us both.

“More flowers,” she says brightly and I walk over to the beautiful arrangement, Gray’s arm around my shoulders.

“Calla lilies,” I murmur and feel a stab of sadness at the beautiful flowers. They were my mom’s favorites, especially the purple ones that make up this arrangement.

Picking them up, I hold them to my nose as I pluck the card from among the beautiful petals. My vision grows dim as I read it, and my body goes numb. The vase crashes at my feet in a shower of glass and water.

Five words.

Five words that have haunted me my entire life are typed neatly on the card.

You’ve been a bad girl.

Chapter Thirteen – Gray

Swinging Avery off her feet, I step over the glass that’s exploded all over the floor.

“Stay there,” I say to Brooke when she jumps up from the couch and heads in our direction.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” she asks as she holds out her arms for her friend. I sit Avery down and pull the blanket over her legs while Brooke cradles her close.

Snatching the card from Avery’s fingers, I read it.
You’ve been a bad girl.

“Avery, what does this mean?”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. I drop to my knees and press my fingers to her wrist, counting her pulse before counting her respiration.

“She’s in shock.”

Brooke scrambles up. “What do I need to do?”

I look at her fuzzy socked feet. “Nothing. There’s glass everywhere.”

“My shoes. Flip-flops. Will you get them? Inside my closet. Then I’ll make some tea.”

I head to her bedroom, find the shoes. The terrible socks are off and the sandals on before I can sit down on the couch.

“Avery, talk to me. What just happened? What does that card mean?”

She says nothing so I hold her until I hear the kettle whistle in the little kitchen. Soon, Brooke is handing me a mug. “I cooled it down with some ice so it won’t burn her.” Her blue eyes are shining with concern.

“Sip this,” I tell Avery and hold it to her lips. I’m gratified when her hands wrap around mine. She nods and I pull the mug away, noting that she’s regained a little color.

“I need my phone!” she yells so suddenly I jump at the sound. Brooke jumps too and runs to her bedroom. She’s back a few seconds later and Avery frantically punches at the screen.

“Please answer. Please answer,” she’s whispering and I can hear the line ring through the device.

Avery sags back into the couch. “Grandma, hi, it’s me.”

I can hear a voice, but not the words.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking of you.” Avery’s voice is too high and she clears it and goes on. “Really, I’m good. Just wanted to check in. How’s Grandpa?”

She presses her fingers to her temples as she listens. “Is he still going to physical therapy like he’s supposed to?”

I look over at Brooke and she leans forward and whispers. “Her grandparents’ house was broken into a few weeks ago. Her grandpa heard the man and ended up getting shot in the arm. Avery went up there and spent a few days after his surgery.”

Pulling Avery tighter against me, I pull the blanket higher and listen to the cadence of her voice while she talks. Soon, she’s winding down the conversation. “I love you, Grandma. Tell Grandpa I love him too.”

Moments later, she’s hanging up and punching through her contacts, holding the phone back to her ear. “This is Avery Carlson. Can you please confirm that my sister, Paisley Carlson, is on premises?”

The hair stands on my arms and Brooke covers her mouth with her hand.

“Which hospital? Why?”

She begins to rock as she listens, tiny back and forth movements that concern me.

“Why wasn’t I informed?” She’s holding the phone so tight her knuckles are white. “That doesn’t sound like a standard evaluation to me. It sounds to me like she’s getting worse, not better. Can you give me their number?”

Brooke grabs a notepad and pen from the coffee table and hands it to her. She jots the number down and hangs up. I look at the notepad.
NY Institute for the Criminally Insane
.

“Hello, this is Avery Carlson. Will you confirm that my sister, Paisley Carlson, is a patient and on premises.” She listens. “I’m on her approved list and I need to know if she’s inside the walls of your institution.” She raises her voice. “Now.”

Avery doesn’t look at me or at Brooke while she waits. She just sits there, her body vibrating next to me.

“I was four when she was born,” she begins, her voice robotic. “I can remember holding her for the first time, loving that I had a baby sister. I was Mom’s ‘good helper’ and would fetch diapers. It was my official duty to sprinkle her little butt with cornstarch.”

Brooke drops into a seat across from us, curling into a ball.

“It was me Paisley walked to when she took her first steps. She was always by my side. It was fun. We did tea parties together or tossed a ball back and forth. I taught her how to hit a softball from the tee and was the ‘team manager’ of her tee ball team. We rode the ponies on our farm.” She looks up at me, the phone still pressed hard to her ear. “We were farmers. Over a hundred and fifty acres upstate. Dairy mostly, but big gardens too. I was responsible for the pumpkins and squash each year.”