Lies That Sinners Tell (The Klutch Duet 1)

I nodded, pointing up in the direction of Jay’s office. “By the eye in the sky.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Yasmin said, her mouth a thin line.

“Yes she does,” Wren chimed in, now pointedly ignoring Karson.

“And she wants to,” Zoe added.

I bit my lip. They were both totally right. I did have to go. If I wanted to continue the arrangement. And I did want to go. I’d been struggling not to glance up at Jay’s office the entire night, knowing he was up there watching. As pathetic as it was, I’d worn this outfit for him, everything I’d done tonight was for him. A test, maybe. To see if he’d break the terms of our arrangement and request my presence on a weeknight. As if that meant something. But a man like this, so strong, so cold, so unmovable, even changing one thing he’d previously set in stone—that was something. A sign.

In my martini clouded head, at least.

“I won’t be long,” I promised.

Wren grinned. “If he’s any good you will be.”

“We’ll be here,” Zoe added. “Enjoying the free drinks. Waiting to make sure the big bad wolf hasn’t gobbled you up completely.”

“Or maybe he already has,” Yasmin commented, regarding me.

I blew them kisses then turned, letting Karson direct me through the crowds. As they had on the night I met Jay, people parted for Karson.

We went through the same door as before. The same hallway. The same elevator. This time, I knew what awaited me. Who awaited me. I wasn’t terrified for my life. I was excited. I was hungry. Starving for this man. For what he would do to me.

For him to devour me whole.

“You better not be summoning me up here to tell me I can’t dance with my girlfriends,” I informed him as soon as I exited the elevator, walking toward Jay’s desk. “Because you can’t tell me to come here with my girls and then forbid me from doing the one thing that you’re meant to do at a club. Apart from drink delicious martinis.” I sighed, thinking about the drink I’d abandoned, wondering how much I was going to need it after this interaction.

As pissed off as I pretended to be, I was glad to be there. To see Jay, sitting behind his desk like he had the first night I met him. My body instantly reacted to the vision of him, and I forgot all the promises I’d made to myself about laying down the law. It was a Wednesday. Much too far away from the weekend. Yet another day of the week I had learned to hate since this began.

“Take off your underwear,” Jay commanded.

I froze in place at his words. I pressed my thighs together, and my skin prickled with desire.

Jay’s mouth was parted ever so slightly as he stared at me, the veins in his neck pulsing. That was all I got from him. But that was a lot for Jay.

My hands instantly went under my dress, slipping beneath the fabric and settling on my hips. I hooked my fingers into my underwear and slowly moved them down, never taking my eyes off Jay. He examined my every move.

I stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor, awaiting further instruction.

Jay stayed seated, slowly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his sinewy and muscled arms. My mouth watered. “Go to the glass,” he ordered, motioning ever so slightly with his head.

My feet moved of their own accord, my knees shaking in anticipation.

I walked past Jay at his desk, even though every part of me ached to stop and touch him. To have his hands on me right now. But there was also a satisfaction that came with denying myself. With obeying him. Obeying him showed that I trusted that he’d know what I needed, and give it to me.

“Hands flat on the glass.” His voice was rougher now, emotion, need creeping out from the façade that was no longer as flawless as it had been the last time I was here.

My hands were shaking as I laid my palms on the glass. The entire dance floor spanned below me, writhing bodies moving to the music. My friends in the VIP booth. I could see all of them, but no one could see me.

“Legs spread,” Jay instructed.

Still quaking with expectation and arousal humming through me, I did as he said.

He made me stand there, splayed out against the glass, wanting, yearning, watching the dance floor, for minutes. Long, excruciating minutes when I wanted to plead and whine. My muscles had started to burn with the effort it took to keep them in that position. I wasn’t going to move, though. I wouldn’t dare.

The slight squeak of his chair against the floor was the only sound in the room. The silence boomed louder than the music on the dance floor, the music I couldn’t hear.