Page 16 of Jersey

As he sets his empty glass down and approaches, my nipples tighten. Although there's something akin to anticipation bubbling inside of me, it tangles with a nearly suffocating fear. I still can't manage to look away. As he draws closer, I know the urge to close my eyes has less to do with not wanting him to touch me at all and more to do with not wanting him to witness the vulnerability I feel when he does. It's as if some part deep inside me wants him to witness my strengths, which makes no sense to me.

Vulnerability is the entire point of this exercise, and I want the opposite where he's concerned.

He doesn't speak this time as he circles me. He doesn't lift his hand to press to my skin. He doesn't press his mouth to me, but I can feel his breath on my skin. Then again, I might be imagining it.

I wait for him to circle me fully, but he pauses behind me.

Then I feel the tip of one finger along the top curve of my right shoulder. Without thought, my head leans in that direction, my body still trembling but also on fire in an insanely foreign way.

The goosebumps on my skin seem to reach out to the touch, wanting more, but he pulls his hand away as quickly as he reaches out.

My mouth hangs open, suddenly dry, but my rules are not to speak.

"Please step back," Roxie says as she steps forward. "The scene is over."

An insane part of me almost tells her to give us a little more time, but instead, I stay silent, watching his back as he walks away while Roxie unclasps the buckles holding me in place.

Chapter 6

Jersey

"Your second drink, sir?"

I pull my eyes from the empty cross and give the waitress standing in front of me a light smile.

"That would be great," I tell her, letting my eyes drift away immediately. "Thank you."

As much as I want to roam the facility looking for her, she bolted the last time I saw her here, and the other day, when she was slinking out of the cabin, it was clear she didn't want to be seen. I can't imagine she'll stick around to have a conversation with me here. It was more likely to happen the other day back at the house, no doubt her wanting to beg me not to say anything to anyone. I'm not judging her for being here. It's her choice how she spends her time, and I feel guilty every time I remember blurting out where I had first seen her. It wasn't my business to tell.

I hadn't seen one familiar face since arriving half an hour ago until I saw Caitlyn on the cross.

It possibly bodes well for the business, not using the same staff. It speaks of distance from the old way things were done here, which could go either way as far as criminality is concerned. I know better than to think that all new staff means zero tolerance for illegal activities. It could be as simple as the new owners don't want people outside of their organization knowing what they're doing here.

"They have a room in the back that looks like a huge orgy," Zeus says as he plops down on the sofa beside me.

The man talks too much, making me regret the change in plans when there was a break early this morning in a case Lark had been working on for a couple of weeks.

The massive ginger has a wide smile as he lets his eyes wander around the room.

There are various stations, and although things look a little different than they did the last time I was here, the main areas remain the same. It seems the layout from the first owner was acceptable enough for those who came after. Doing a massive overhaul takes time, and these guys don't make any money if the doors are locked. Profit will always prevail over anything else.

"Did you hear me?" Zeus asks.

"I heard," I mutter, looking for the waitress with my second drink.

Like most other clubs of this sort, there's a two-drink limit. They don't want to have to deal with drunk people without inhibitions. It lowers the risk of rule-breaking and assault. Not all clubs are like that, and it's one of the biggest red flags to see during an investigation.

"Why didn't you join them?" I ask when Zeus remains silent.

I roll my head on my shoulders to look at him. The guy seems distracted, looking toward me but not at me.

"Dr. Rudd?" he asks, confusion drawing his brows together.

I spin so fast it takes a second for my eyes to catch up to my body, but lo-and-behold, there she is, fully dressed with the pinkest cheeks I've ever seen. It’s as if she's embarrassed standing here as opposed to when she was strapped to the cross.

"Caitlyn," I whisper as I stand.

She is so fucking beautiful it's almost too difficult to keep my eyes from roaming down her body. I did my best when she was across the room, and I don't see how it would be any less creepy to do it now despite her having clothes on.

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