Don’t you want what they have? To be with a man without fear? Even if it’s just for sex?
Phantom hands graze my body and my skin itches. My pulse rams into my ears like a freight train.
“You’ll never be free of me,”the imaginary voice whispers, a ghostly menace filling the elevator.
No. I refuse.The past won’t define me. I’m in charge of my future. I might not want to trust men or open myself up emotionally again after Camden, but Iwilltake back control over my body—to be with men without breaking out in hives.
To experience sex. Sex that I consent to.
Heaving in a deep breath, I retreat into the elevator and press the button for The Sanctuary.
The doors quietly slide closed with a click and I’m on the move.
Chapter 9
I regret my decisionthe moment I step into the lobby of The Sanctuary. Heat rushes to my face and my hands grow clammy. The lobby is tasteful, unassuming, and elegant. Everything is decorated in dark beige and black leather, with soft recessed lighting shining on a lady in a red minidress working behind a chrome receptionist’s desk.
But I know what has to lie beyond the dark double doors behind her.
Sex. Debauchery.
And from what I’m hearing in stray conversations of couples and groups gathered in front of the receptionist…
BDSM.
My skin feels sensitive, like the barely visible wounds from my maladaptive needle poking behavior has been ripped right open.What am I thinking? Being here? Why did you think this would be a vanilla, run-of-the-mill sex club? This is the last place a person like you should be in.
I turn toward the exit. I want to throw up.
You were trying your year of yeses again.
Fuck that damn book. I’m sureThe Wonderful and Terrifying Year of Yeseswasn’t written for someone with messed up post traumatic disorder. I might as well give it to someone else. Maybe Belle. She could use some excitement in her life.
Mired in my thoughts, I don’t pay attention and plow into a willowy person who wobbles on her feet from my impact.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I quickly reach out and steady her before she topples over.
A black-haired Asian girl wearing a gray dress suit, looking completely out of place just like me, stares back, clearly bewildered. I grin, sensing kinship immediately—she doesn’t belong here anymore than I do.
“It’s okay.” She smiles, and her expressive brown eyes behind her stylish glasses look me up and down before she leans in and whispers, “You nervous too?”
I bite my lip. “That obvious?”
She nods. “I’m a psychiatrist. I’m good at identifying tells. You’re gripping your arm and flushed…not in a good way too.”
I groan to myself. “This is so stupid. What was I thinking—”
“Want to go inside with me?” She motions toward the double doors.
I blanch and shake my head. “S-Sorry, I’m not, you know, into women. Not that I think chicks aren’t cool, I just am not—”
She laughs. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m straight and into men too, but I’m nervous about going in there by myself and figured you must be here for a reason, so we might as well psych each other up.”
My shoulders relax and I let out an exhale. “Oh.”
“You’d be doing me a favor, really. I’m here purely for professional reasons.”
I arch my brow.That’s a new one.“How is going to a BDSM club a professional visit?”