Page 20 of Deviant Obsession

Chapter 8

Rhea

I smoothmy sweaty palms down the front of my jeans, barely conscious of my feet carrying me further into the unknown. The glossy marble floors of Deviant BDSM club echo with each thud of my boots as I approach the sleek reception desk. Everything about this place screams money, from the crystal chandeliers to the dark leather furnishings to the abstract art pieces that probably cost more than my entire college education.

I amwildlyunderdressed.

A stunning woman who could be anywhere between thirty and fifty sits behind the curved desk, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a severe bun that must be giving her a headache. Her red-painted lips curve into a warm smile as she looks up from her computer screen, pale blue eyes assessing me with clinical precision.

"Can I help you?" Her perfectly manicured nails tap against the polished surface, creating a staccato rhythm that matches my racing pulse.

"I...um..." My throat constricts. The confidence that carried me through the front door evaporates under her curious scrutiny.

What was I thinking, coming here?

She arches one precisely plucked eyebrow. "Are you a member?"

"No, I?—"

"We're a private establishment." Her tone carries just enough edge to make me flinch, as if her hospitality ran out the moment she concluded that my outfit likely reflects my disposable income. "Members only. If you'd like to apply for membership, there's an extensive screening process, including a background check and financial verification. The annual dues start at…"

My cheeks flame as she continues listing requirements I could never hope to meet. This was a terrible idea. A monumentally stupid, reckless idea. I take a step back, ready to bolt for the relative safety of the street outside…

"Well, well… isn't this a surprise?"

Every muscle in my body freezes at the sound of that familiar voice. Deep, smooth, dangerous. Like whiskey laced with poison. I don't need to turn around to know who it belongs to, but I do anyway, my body seemingly moving of its own accord.

Dean leans against the wall, all the casual confidence of a prince in his palace. Or a demon in the innermost circles of Hell. His dark jeans and t-shirt fit close to his toned body like sin itself, and the way he crosses his bulging arms over his chest has me furiously battling the urge to bite my lip.

How does someone so repulsive get to lookthatgood?

"I...I was just..." Words fail me completely as he pushes off the wall and stalks closer, his movements fluid and purposeful. Each step sends my heart leaping higher in my throat.

"You were just...?" The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement dancing in his icy eyes. He stops barely a foot away from me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his towering gaze.

"Looking for a restroom!" The excuse tumbles out in a rush. "I got turned around, and I thought maybe...I mean, I saw thebuilding and..." With every word I dig my way deeper into this hole of embarrassment.

"A restroom?" He doesn't even try to hide his skepticism, rolling the words around like he's tasting their falseness. "In a members-only club tucked away on a street lined with bars?"

I scramble for an exit strategy, attempting to salvage some dignity while he has me thoroughly cornered. "What areyoudoing here?"

His smirk widens. "My ex-stepdad owns the place."

"Oh." The sound comes out as barely more than a squeak. Of course he has connections here. Everything about Dean screams privilege and power…and debauchery.

"Debbie," he spins me back towards the receptionist without taking his eyes off me, "I'll take care of our...lost visitor." The pause before 'lost' speaks volumes about how much he believes my flimsy excuse.

The woman gives a curt nod, but I barely notice. Dean's hand has found its way from my bicep to the small of my back, and even through the fabric of my shirt, his touch burns like a brand against my skin.

"Since you're looking for the facilities, allow me to show you the way. Though I suspect that's not really why you're here, is it, Rhea?"

This is the moment I should decline. I should make my excuses and leave. I should remember all the reasons why coming in here was a terrible idea. But his hand is warm against my back, and there's something in his eyes that makes me want to follow him straight into hell.

"I...Okay." The word falls from my lips before I can stop it.

His smile is pure, dark triumph. "Right this way."

I'm acutely aware of Debbie's eyes on us as Dean guides me toward a set of heavy velvet curtains in deep burgundy. Mybreathing is so shaky I'm sure he must be able to feel it through his palm.

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