Page 26 of Caught Up

He cocked a brow. “That feels like an overreaction.”

“Don’t test me. I have Homeland Security on speed dial.”

The bastard lifted his hand and brushed my hair over my shoulder, exposing my ear so he could whisper back, “Call them. I dare you.”

And then he kissed my neck.

My entire body clenched up, and not with the rage or fear or disgust Ishouldbe feeling.

Oh, this was bad. All the years I’d spent exploring kinks with past partners were coming back to bite me in the ass. Because the fear play, rough sex, and danger were just pretend, and I’d been protected by safe words. Junior was the real deal, might pose an actual threat to me, and instead of being freaked out like I should have been, I was turned on.

This time, I didn’t even have a raunchy nun to blame it on. This was all me.

Belatedly, I wrenched myself away from him. Shit, shit,shit.

Onstage, Morgan finished untying Stephanie’s second heel and slowly set it on the ground. Then he lifted her leg and planted a kiss on her toes. She made a low hum of approval, and he began kneading the ball of her foot in a way I knew must feel like heaven.

Soft music filtered down from the speakers, low, melodic, sensual but not in an overt way. The song was more of a suggestion, a promise of pleasure to come. I was starting to get desperate.

“Please,” I whispered, turning back to Junior.

He dragged his gaze to mine—he’d been focused on the couple onstage. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to embarrass you.”

I blinked. How had he known where my thoughts had gone?

He shifted sideways, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Because I know you, Lo.”

I glared at him. The actual nerve of this man. Ten years had passed since the last time we’d seen each other, and a lot had changed in that time. He didn’t know the first thing about me, and I resented the insinuation that he did.

I shot him one last warning look, trying not to get sucked into the vortex of his green eyes, and then faced forward in my seat. Lord help him if he didn’t keep his word or his chill through what was about to play out in front of us, because I wouldn’t be so forgiving.

I hadn’t been lying when I said this wasmyplace. Velvet was ashared-ownershipclub, with my friend Sylvia holding the largest stake. Ryan, Taylor, myself, and several other acquaintances and performers held smaller portions, having bought in when times were tough to give the club amuch-neededboost and keep it afloat. We all believed in Velvet. We were invested, not just financially, but with our whole hearts, willing to do whatever it took to keep this safe space open and thriving.

Onstage, Morgan’s fingers continued to work their way up his wife’s leg, moving from her foot to her ankle.

“That feels amazing,” she told him.

Normally, at this part of the scene, I’d be feeling the beginning stages of arousal, but instead of a welcome rush of soft desire, my body was at war with itself. What I felt was closer to aggression. Electric, charged. Uncomfortable. Far from what I’d come to expect at Velvet. And it was all because of the man at my side. I might not have thought of him much over the past decade, but now I couldn’t stop the flood of memories from breaching the dam. Him fingering me beneath the fireworks. Me jerking him off in a stairwell at school. The night he’d snuck into my bedroom and I lost my virginity to him. Three days later, he’d denied ever knowing me.

I tried to look at it logically. Core memories were especially athingwhen it came to a person’s first sexual encounters. We all had our own examples. Taylor couldn’t smell cigarettes mixed with cheap cologne without getting turned on. Likewise, Ryan experienced their first public boner after an especially handsome waiter served them mediocre pizza at awell-knownchain restaurant, and now they couldn’t walk into one without having to quickly sit down.

My reaction to Junior was a natural response, but it didn’t have to mean anything more than that. Fighting it would only make it worse. Instead, I chose to accept that this was how he made me feel, physically, so I could move past it and focus on the more important matter: how he made me feel emotionally.

Which was confused. Very confused.

As much as I hated to admit it, ourback-and-forthexchanges were kind of...fun. And he’d apologized soquicklyafter realizing he’d fucked up at church. Was that why he’d tracked me down? Just to say sorry? If that were the case, today’s stalking suddenly seemed a lot less concerning and a lot more, I don’t know, determined, maybe? I wasn’t used to men owning up to their mistakes like this, mostly because I wasn’t in the habit of giving them the chance to, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. I also hadn’t missed Junior’s last comment:I figured it was better people thought you were just another obsessed moll than someone important to me.

I’d been important to him back then? That was surprising. Before the fair, he’d never even looked at me, and he’d dropped me so fast afterward that I figured our hookups meant nothing to him.

No. He must have been lying when he said that, trying to get into my pants. It’d been so easy back then and he thought it’d be just as easy now. Well, it wouldn’t be. He was a huge part of why I had so many trust issues, and I wasn’t about to let him charm me into forgetting that.

I sent him a sideways glance, but he seemed too distracted by the couple onstage to notice. His gaze was fixed on them, spine straight, body almost completely still, only the steady rise and fall of his chest to indicate his mood. I’d seen other people who’d jumped into the deep end at Velvet before they were ready, and they’d looked nothing like Junior. They’d been twitchy, obviously nervous, unable to watch what was happening in front of them, looking everywhere but at the stage. Junior was a man transfixed. Like he was caught in the spell that Morgan and Stephanie were casting over the audience.

Huh. Maybe I didn’t have to worry about him embarrassing me after all.

I faced the stage, still battling my inner turmoil. And to think, before Junior showed up, I’d been having a nice moment with...what was his name again? Oh, right, Kevin. Or was it Carl? Shit. Faces, I never forgot, but names were my nemesis. Either way, there had been some chemistry there.Kevin-or-maybe-Carlhad been soft spoken, affable, and obviously interested: The perfect person to share a bit of fun with because the stakes were so low. Maybe once the show was done, I could find him again. Send Junior packing and go back to having a good night.

A soft moan echoed through the room, and I let my thoughts of Junior slip away as I turned my whole focus back to the scene. Morgan had kissed his way up Stephanie’s leg, all the way to her inner thighs. The red dress she wore was hitched around her hips, and she’d arched forward, arms straining as she gripped the seat of the chair behind her. As I watched, Morgan shifted closer, opening her legs wide enough that the audience could see when he hooked a finger into her underwear and gently tugged it aside, revealing her to us.

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