Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

Jack’s expression was sympathetic, though Cleo could have sworn his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “I see what you mean about bad picker, at least back then,” he said. “Clearly, the guy was a first-class dickhead.”

“No question,” Cleo agreed. “My track record sucks. When it comes to one-on-one romance, I’m a lousy picker. I figured I was better off just massaging my kink without getting emotionally involved. Happily, I discovered the Masters Club.”

How thrilled she had been to find a BDSM haven of like-minded people. She’d been super nervous at her audition, but once she’d made it to pleasure sub, she’d spent every evening there, reveling in strings-free scenes with responsible, clued-in Doms using state-of-the-art equipment. She had so much fun, she’d barely realized just how lonely she actually had been, both then…and now.

“Back in London, I was fulfilled as a pleasure sub,” she insisted.“I was happy to scene with whoever tapped me. And that, as you know, is when I met you and Annette. Obviously, I knew you were married, but that didn’t stop this foolish, stupid girl from falling head over heels for yet another guy she couldn’t have. Cleo Chapman—seeker of unattainable men.”

Looking away, she put a hand to her mouth, as if she could stuff the words back inside. When she dared to glance back at him, the pained surprise in his expression nearly undid her. But damn it, he’d brought this on himself. All she was doing was finally saying out loud the truth that had tormented her for so long.

“Oh, come on,” she snapped, suddenly tired of tiptoeing around the core issue. She’d gone this far. Why stop now? “Like you didn’t know. Even before Annette died, I think it was a fairly open secret that I was in love with you.”

Oh, shit. Had she really just babbled that aloud? Well, he’d insisted on hearing it, so fuck him if he couldn’t handle it.

“Some of it was just the intensity of the scene, sure,” she barreled on, though the tips of her ears heated with embarrassment at her confession. “But your mastery as a Dom blew me away every time. I’m pretty sure Annette knew, though she was gracious enough not to make a thing of it. And, of course, I was careful to behave properly. I certainly had no intention of breaking up anyone’s marriage.”

“Cleo,” Master Jack breathed, looking genuinely gob-smacked.

She met his gaze head-on. “I used to wish she would disappear,” she whispered, shame at her unkind thoughts washing over her in a hot wave, bringing more heat to her cheeks and tears to her eyes.“Sometimes I’d fantasize she’d die, and you would be all mine.”

She blew out a breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened once more.“That was fine, as long as it just remained a stupid fantasy. But then… The accident… It was like I’d brought it on.” Cleo’s voice cracked on a sob. She hid her face in her hands.

“Cleo, no,” Jack said emphatically, again gathering her into his arms. She hid her face against his chest again, her body relaxing into his even as her mind continued to rebel.

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Cleo. You have to know that. Annette was killed by a drunk driver. There was nothing you, or anyone except the guy who chose to get behind the wheel, could have done to stop it.”

“Maybe,” Cleo agreed dubiously, her voice muffled by his shirt. It felt good to hide in his arms, if just a little longer.

He was right, of course—she didn’t have some kind of power to control the universe, thank goodness. But there remained the niggling fear in an irrational part of her brain that she’d been partially responsible. Maybe she couldn’t control the universe, but she had sent out negative, selfish vibes that had come back on her with a vengeance.

Still snuffling, Cleo made an effort to compose herself. She pushed her hair from her face, wiped her eyes, sniffed and pulled back from Jack’s embrace. She wasn’t yet ready to let either of them off the hook.

“However or why ever it happened,” she insisted, “my secret, selfish wish became a real-life nightmare. I desperately wanted to fix it—to take it back. At the very least, to offer you some kind of solace and comfort. But I never saw you except the one time at the funeral. I wanted to call, but it wasn’t my place. I went to the damn club every night after work on the chance you might be there. I checked my Masters Club app constantly to see if you’d been there. I even checked with Master Ellis to make sure you were still a member. But for all those months, you never came back.” Cleo was painfully aware she sounded like a whinging baby, but she was unable to help herself.