Page 65 of Cross My Heart

I reach over and squeeze his hand. “I’m so sorry,” I say, and he nods.

“After that… Well, it was suddenly down to me. The future of the duchy, the great Ashford line. And I was nobody’s first choice.”

“So, Oxford.”

He nods. “Far enough from my parents that I don’t have to see the disappointment in their eyes.” He says it archly, like a joke, then tips back the rest of his wine, draining the glass dry. “But enough about the past.”

“Saint—” I start softly, but he shakes his head.

“I mean it. The only thing by brother’s death taught me—besides the cruel lack of reason or justice in the world—is that we have to enjoy life while we can. Suck the marrow from the bones of fate,” he adds, nodding to the food on the table. “So I mean to savor every moment of pleasure I can. How about you? Can I interest you in a little adventure tonight?”

He holds my gaze. An invitation.

A temptation.

I think of Wren, and all the adventures she’ll never get to experience. The places she’ll never travel to, the men she’ll never kiss.

I’m the one left to do it all, for the both of us.

I give him a determined nod. “I’m in.”

* * *

We takea cab from the restaurant across the city, to what looks like an upscale residential neighborhood. Saint holds my hand in the backseat, keeping up a casual conversation with the driver about sports and the latest soccer results, but his thumb strokes a slow circle on my palm, over and over, caressing the sensitive skin until I’m breathless from the light, tempting touch.

By the time he helps me out of the car, I’m burning up with curiosity about this adventure we have in store. Saint leads me to a discreet townhouse, marked only with a bulky bouncer on the door. “Nico,” Saint greets him, friendly, and the man smiles, stepping aside to open the door for us immediately.

“Enjoy your night, sir.”

I follow Saint inside. It looks like some kind of private members club, with an understated entrance area, and a gorgeous hostess in a severe black dress. Again, she knows Saint on sight, and is all smiles, cooing at him to have a great time, and let her know if he needs anything.

“You’re a regular, then?” I ask, as Saint leads me down a long, dimly-lit hallway.

He gives me a wicked smile. “You could say that. When I’ve had a stressful time of it, I like to come here and… Unwind.”

We emerge into a bar area, designed like an old-fashioned speakeasy, with Art Deco gilt edgings and brocade wallpaper. The entire wall behind the bar is mirrored and backlit, with exotic bottles of liquor lined up, casting the room in a multicolored glow, like stained glass. Around the room, booths and tables are already occupied by chic, sophisticated guests, enjoying conversation, laughter, and—

I pause. A couple in the corner are kissing, but not just a casual peck on the lips. The woman is backed up against the wall, her elegant silk dress hiked up and her long legs wrapped around her partner’s waist as he thrusts against her.

Thrusts…. Into her?

I blink.They couldn’t be…. But they are. There’s no mistaking the glaze of pleasure in the woman’s eyes, head falling back, diamonds glittering at her neck as the man’s thrusts increase in fever and tempo. Her moans begin to echo, loud enough for the people nearby to turn and watch.

Nobody seems surprised that they’re fucking, right here in front of everyone.

My cheeks heat in a rush of realization.

“This is a… sex club?” I ask Saint, keeping my voice low.

He looks amused. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“I think it’s the only way,” I say, noticing the other illicit details all around us.

The woman lounging back in a booth, sipping her cocktail as a man waits patiently on his knees beside her, a finely-crafted leather collar at his neck…

The female couple across the bar, taking turns lavishing each other in kisses, before turning their attention to the younger man sitting between them, his hands resting lightly on the back of their heads as they start to peel open his shirt and lick their way down his body, sucking his cock in turn…

The handsome older man who strolls over to the first couple, just as the woman’s moans reach a fever pitch. The man fucking her comes with a loud groan, sinking briefly against her body—before setting her down and stepping aside, so the other man moves to take his place; fucking her in slow, deep strokes, drawing new cries of pleasure from her lips.

---