Page 126 of Sinful Desires
My hand trembled around the first knob. I pushed it open and instantly regretted it. Two strippers dressed as anime twins were taking turns whipping a man on all fours whose boxers were around his ankles, his stomach folding onto the floor. There was a leash. There were sound effects.
I didn’t even blink.
I just closed the door like it’d burned me and whispered, “Nope. Therapy’s expensive.”
I turned and tried the door across the hall. Inside, a woman in a full pencil skirt and heels was sipping red wine while astripper in a silk dress danced to Beethoven. I stood there for a full second like my brain needed time to reboot.
I shut the door again and pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to erase whatever the hell that was from my memory. For three straight minutes, I’d seen more depravity than my entire time in rehab.
Okay. Third time’s the charm.
Sweat prickled down my spine, my heels throbbed, but it was my soul that felt bruised raw.
I yanked the last door open, heart already in my throat, and stepped inside before my pride could catch up, closing it behind me. Pressing my back to it, my breath stuck somewhere in my chest.
And what I saw? It wasn’t what I had expected. Not even close. A heavy breath clawed its way out of my lungs.
Théo stood stiffly, back to me, haloed by city light like a fallen angel. The room smelled of perfume and sweat, but he stood untouched.
Pristine. Fully dressed.Alone.
Not a wrinkle on him, not a mark. No lipstick on his neck, no guilt on his skin. Thirty-five fucking thousand down the drain.
Thank God.
A bitter laugh scraped my throat raw. “What happened, soldier? Couldn’t get it up? Or was she not into brooding, lying psychos with attachment issues?”
No answer. Not even a twitch.
I pushed off the door. “Tell me, did you really waste two hours of paid tits and fake moans just to brood in front of some glass? Jesus. I didn’t know PTSD now stood for Pathetic Théo’s Soft Dick.”
His jaw shifted. A tick. Just enough to know I’d hit it.Good.
I wanted him to snap. To fight back. To hurt me the way I needed him to, so I could finally stop aching for the man I used to believe in.
“You know,” I murmured, each step deliberate, hips swaying more than they needed to, “if you needed a warm-up, I could’ve helped. I’mreallygood with my mouth. Especially when I’m angry.”
The lights were low, walls dark, a black velvet sofa sitting in the middle. A chandelier glowed soft and gold above us.
He turned slowly and leaned against the window, arms crossed. Grey eyes unreadable, but darker than ever before. “Didn’t know you were giving lessons now, Miss Harper.”
I smiled. “Only for the hopeless cases.”
“Then maybe you should apply for a position here. You’ve got the mouth for it, the tits for it, and that fucked-up little craving for a spotlight. Only thing missing is a price tag pinned between your pretty legs.”
The shame twisted under my skin, but it wasn’t shame forme. It was shame for still wantinghim, for still feeling that pull between my thighs when he looked at me like I was something disgusting he wanted to throw away.
I flinched. Just barely. But his eyes caught it. And for half a second—half of a goddamn second—his mouth parted like he was going to take it back.
He didn’t.
I dropped onto the velvet sofa, legs crossed. “Maybe I should. My voice won’t last forever. Might as well put the rest of me to good use while it’s still worth paying for.”
He turned back toward the window, his height towering, his head nearly kissing the top of the frame. Broad as ever. Broader, even. Like he’d spent the last year punishing himself in the gym, building a body big enough to carry all his lies.
“Thought you didn’t like to make your boyfriends wait.”
For a second, I frowned. My lashes dipped. Right?…?Nicholas.
