SADIE

C lub Sin is busy—busier than I thought it would be, anyway. Somehow, my naïve mind equated the idea of it being by invitation only with it being smaller and more personal. And I guess it is, if you consider hanging out with more than a few hundred strangers to be personal.

This is a bad idea.

Something in my bones has been screaming that since we got in Kelly’s car. Yet, here I am, surrounded by red velvet walls and very scantily dressed men and women who are delivering drinks while never missing a beat as their bodies seemingly move with the music that pumps from all corners of the building.

“This is going to be phenomenal!” Kelly shouts in my ear.

I turn to her, clutching my purse in my hands as though it’s a lifeline. Her eyes are flitting from one side of the room to the next, taking it all in, never landing on one spot for more than a few seconds. Her excitement is coming off her waves, and, I’ll admit, it’s infectious. But, that doesn’t mean I’m any more comfortable with the situation, either.

“Where’s Chelsea?” She’s no longer behind Kelly like I thought she was, and as I scan the room, she’s vanished, her sequined top no longer visible in the sea of bodies around us.

Kelly is smiling like the damn Cheshire cat. “She went to inquire.”

“Inquire about what?” I’m not even sure I want to know the answer to that question, judging by the wicked grin she can’t rein in.

Kelly doesn’t respond, just pushes me ahead, toward the bar. “Shots! That’s what we need! Shots!” She chants the mantra the entire way, both hands pressed against my forearms to guide me toward the massive mahogany bar along the far back wall.

“I really don’t think—” But she’s not listening. And I also notice how she avoids my question.

Chelsea might be nowhere to be found, but Kelly orders up three shots of...what was that?

“Christ, Kel, what’s in that?” I stare at the murky brown contents, my nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Doesn’t look like much,” she explains, lifting one of the shot glasses from the bar. “But it’ll be your new favorite. For the birthday girl—the girl who will inhale coffee anytime, anywhere—I bring you the Wake The Dead shot. Tequila, coffee liqueur, and espresso.” She hands the glass to me, waggling her eyebrows. “Not exactly my first choice, but it’s not my birthday, now is it?”

She’s right. I’d take my coffee any way I could get it. But with tequila? That’s a new one for me.

“Take it, my friend,” she laughs, and I finally pluck the glass from her fingertips. Immediately, she reaches out with her own glass and clinks it with mine. “Guaranteed to jack you up.”

With those classy words, Kelly downs the entire shot.

I follow suit, letting the tangy burn of the tequila and the sweet, decadent taste of coffee slide down the back of my throat in one forceful gulp.

“Holy God, Kel! I’ve never drank coffee that burns before.”

“First time for everything,” she smirks, slamming the shot glass down on the bar dramatically. “Isn’t that right, Chelsea?”

I whirl around to come face to face with my other friend, just as she tosses back the shot that had been waiting for her.

“That is exactly right,” she grins. “And that’s precisely what this night’s all about.”

The glint of mischief in her eyes unnerves me, and I grow cautiously still. I glance between the two women, my own eyes narrow and wary. They have something up their sleeves. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand. “What’s going on?”

Chelsea bites down on her bottom lip, barely able to suppress the anticipation rolling off her. She leans in close. “We got you a birthday present.”

Normally, that would be a relatively safe statement, one that doesn’t offer up anxiety and jangled nerves. But considering the way she says it, the way both of my friends have their gazes locked intently on me, and the fact that we’re in the notorious Club Sin, her words scare the hell out of me.

“What kind of present?” I choke out.

I’m not sure if Chelsea can even really hear me over the reverberating bass of the music, but she must, because her eyes cast a glance away from me, over the crowd to the other side of the room.

An oversized sign, with gorgeous silver calligraphy writing on it, hangs from Victorian wrought iron bars above a door covered in silver tin tiles. The roaming red, purple, and white spotlights reflect off the damask pattern of it, making me squint as I decipher what it says.

“What’s the Seduction Room?”

Chelsea gives Kelly a look, which must silently advise her that more alcohol is needed stat, because Kelly gives me a quick pat on the shoulder and turns away, signaling to the bartender.

“Whatever you want it to be, according to the very professional manager I just spoke with,” Chelsea explains with a light laugh. But it’s forced, I can hear it over the music and people around us. Even Chelsea is a bit nervous. For her, or for me, I’m not sure.

And that can’t be a good sign.

“Ms. Mitchell?”

Both Chelsea and I turn, and a woman in a crisply fitted black designer suit with a dangerously lowcut lace camisole is standing between us and Kelly, who’s finally got another row of shots poured in front of her. She turns, too, taking in the woman’s classy outfit and meticulous makeup.

“That’s me.” I don’t know why I say it. She obviously knows who I am, and she sought me out.

The woman gives me a reassuring smile, and an easy nod. “We’re ready for you.”

“Ready for—”

“Happy birthday, Sadie,” Chelsea says, leaning against the side of my face to speak in a lower volume. “Go enjoy yourself.”

Kelly looks slightly uncertain about their choice to send me off with the woman standing before us, but she shoves one of the shot glasses at me, wide-eyed and trembling with nervousness.

Without thinking, I take the glass from her. “Are you sure—”

I’m about to protest. Back out. Tell them all that this situation isn’t for me.

But why? Because it’s not part of my normal, mundane, safe routine? Hell, I don’t even know what the situation is , and I’m already turning it down.

But the woman I’d seen in the reflection of my mirror earlier tonight wasn’t that person anymore. At least, not right now. Tonight, that woman was fun, and adventurous. Maybe even wild.

We’re ready for you , she’d said.

Well, I might not be ready, and I doubt I ever will be, but be damned if I’m not going to take this gift my friends have given me and at least see what it holds. With that in mind, I toss back the shot, push the glass back into Kelly’s hand, and follow the woman in the designer suit.

“Time to open up that gift, ladies.” I wink at my friends, sounding surer than I really am, and leave them standing at the bar, losing sight of them as the crowd of patrons fills in around them.

***

T he sharply dressed woman leads me to the other end of the bar, away from the Seduction Room sign that my friends pointed out only moments before.

“We do everything in our power to keep things as discreet as possible,” she explains, holding a door open for me—a door that was made to look exactly like the wall around it.

Ah, I get it. If I just walked into the Seduction Room using the door that opened onto the bar itself, everyone would see me go in, and see me come out. And secrecy was key, so Club Sin wouldn’t allow that to happen.

She leads me down a darkened corridor, dimly lit only by sporadic security lights along the way. In my head, I’m questioning everything she tells me.

“My name is Lydia.”

Is that even her real name?

“You do need to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

What kind of freaky shit is she scared I’m going to talk about?

“You can change your mind at any time, and don’t need to say or do anything you’re not comfortable with. You’re in charge here.”

Why would she feel the need to tell me that?

I’m absolutely losing my mind, only taking in about half of everything the woman is telling me. The nonchalant voice she’s using with me isn’t helping, as her calmness is only accentuating my frazzled nervousness even more.

I’m about to back out—after all, I’m in charge, right?—when something she says pricks at my consciousness.

“...but he’s yours for one hour, Ms. Mitchell. Nothing said or done within these walls leaves these walls. That’s what your friends bought you for your birthday. Freedom.”

Freedom.

Be damned if that didn’t speak to me on a level I wasn’t quite ready to admit to.

We’re standing outside a shiny black door, studded with chrome accents that seem to smolder like miniature flames, even in the dim lighting. She shoves the clipboard she’s holding at me, and the pen. So, she was serious about the nondisclosure agreement.

I sign it without even reading the whole thing. Like I’d ever want to speak about this with anyone else, anyway.

“The room is pitch black, and it stays that way. Your identity is concealed, just as his is.” She gives me a smile, surprisingly genuine considering the circumstances, then brings her arm up and glances at the watch on her wrist. “Your hour starts now. You’re free to go in whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here in sixty minutes to lead you back out to the main club.”

Lydia waves a hand toward the door in front of me. I would’ve laughed in any other context. The way she does it, like I wouldn’t notice it without her help. But maybe that’s how I appear right now—lost, and unsure where to go or what to do next.

With that, she turns away from me and heads back down the hallway.

I focus on the click, click, click of her heels until I can’t hear it anymore, and then just stand there, staring blankly at the door.

Time is ticking, literally.

I can either stand out here and wait for Lydia to come back, or be a rebel and pull that damn door open. Even if I back out once I’m in there, at least I can say I tried.

Screw it .

I take a long breath, hold it, and let it out slowly. Then, I hook my fingers around the door handle and tug on it. It glides open easily, silent, and a quick peek in to the room beyond it doesn’t help me much. It really is absolute darkness.

No sound comes from the room, and even with the door pulled open practically the entire way, there’s not enough light to give me even a glimpse of anything save for a few tiles on the floor nearest the doorway.

“You can come in. It’s safe, I swear.”

The voice makes me jump, startled. I must have been standing there longer than I realized, just staring into the darkness. I can’t see him, but I realize he must be able to see at least my silhouette in the dim light. The thought is enough to make me take a step inside and pull the door closed behind me.

Even shrouded in darkness, knowing from the distance of his voice that he’s obviously on the other side of the room, I can sense him. A sizzling pulse of energy that makes me blink, thinking I might be able to see sparks if I could just see through the blackness around me.

“I...” My arms are at my sides, my fingers pressed lightly against the door behind me. It’s the only safety net I’ve got to cling to, keeping me oriented as to where I am in relation to my escape route. “I’m not sure...”

“I can tell,” the man’s voice says softly.

I can hear the faintest hint of amusement. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or offended.

“Will you tell me your name?” His voice holds no demand, just a suggestion, a bid to make me comfortable.

I shake my head, then realize how foolish that is. “No,” I choke out. I clear my throat and try again. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Fair enough.”

I can hear him moving somewhere to my left, each step painstakingly slow and light. It occurs to me that I feel like I’m being hunted, and that I might not realize his impending attack until it’s too late. Far too late.

“I hear it’s your birthday.”

The words make my throat constrict. “How do you know—”

“Easy,” he says. “Your friends told Lydia, and she told me. That’s all.”

I nod again, rolling my eyes. Not only am I making silent gestures that no one can see, but I’m jumping to conclusions and freaking out, just waiting for this whole thing to be some kind of embarrassing setup. “Not till Monday, actually.”

“Mine, too.”

His voice is suddenly a lot closer to me than it had been, making it all the more difficult to focus on what he’s saying. “What?”

“My birthday,” he whispers. “It’s on Monday, too.”

“What are the odds...” I say absently, but I don’t even realize the words are coming out of my mouth. Instead, all my senses are overloaded by the fact that I can feel his breath against my temple, and I gasp at the sensation of it.

“It’s okay,” he assures me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to...it sure would be nice to have a name to call you by. Doesn’t have to be your real one.”

My hand is on my chest, and I can feel my heart pounding insanely under my fingers. “Rose.” My voice is no more than a whisper. It’s all I can manage.

Rose is my middle name, but most people don’t know that. Mostly because I hate the name, but I’m not too keen on feeling as vulnerable as I am right now, either, so I figure the name is suiting under the circumstances.

“Rose.” The man’s voice repeats it slowly, as though pondering it. And something in the way he says it makes me actually like the sound of it when it rolls off his tongue. “It’s a pretty name,” he adds.

I let out a slow breath, as slowly as I possibly can, hoping he can’t hear me trying to level out my wildly beating pulse. “W-what’s yours?” I roll my eyes in the darkness, feeling silly at my own obvious fear, then try again. “Your name, I mean.”

His voice comes out in a seductive whisper, just a breath away from my ear lobe. “I think this is where I remind you that I’m whoever you want me to be.”

I swallow hard, feeling my knees buckle slightly at the heat of his breath again my sensitive skin, and the artful persuasion in his voice. “It...it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it does,” he offers. “This is your time. I’m on your clock, Rose.”

He’s doing it on purpose, I swear to God. He must be. Because there’s no way his voice keeps coming out with that raspy quality, his breath touching my skin like a lover’s caress in the most opportune places near my throat and just below my ears, without skillful knowledge of how to turn a woman on.

It’s the Seduction Room, Sadie. Of course, he knows how to make you want him.

“May I touch you, Rose?”

The question catches me off guard. Not only because I don’t expect his forwardness, but, in another sense, because he asks so damn politely. Up until then, I’m not sure I really believed I had a choice, even though it’s been drilled into my brain since Lydia whisked me away from the bar. “I...I don’t...”

My brain is screaming at me that this is a bad idea—that being in the vicinity of a man with such a husky, sexy voice who wants to touch me and do whatever I want him to do...is a really bad idea. But my body is screaming louder, begging for me to give in, do something crazy, and take absolute advantage of the situation.

Oh God, this is what happens when you deprive yourself of—

“How about this?” His voice breaks through my racing thoughts, grounding me for a fleeting moment. “What if I put my hands on you—nothing crazy, just to make you feel something—and you can ask me questions while I try to calm you down a little, okay? We can stop at any time, but just give me a chance to ease that mind of yours a little, all right?”

I don’t respond immediately, and he must take that as a sign. Either that, or he’s decided to take a gamble, because I suddenly hear him shift slightly beside me, and his fingers slide gently over mine, still pressed firmly against the wall behind me.

His touch is surprisingly gentle in comparison to his deep, masculine voice, and the gesture makes my stomach clench.

“Focus on my touch,” he whispers, but there’s no demand in his words. “Feel me, and listen to me, Rose.” His fingers graze the top of my hand, continuing to trail from my wrist, to the tip of each of my fingers, then back again. “Ask me something. Anything.”

It’s such a simple touch, nothing overly crude or aggressive or sexual. But my head is already leaned back against the wall and I can feel my breaths coming out in ragged, shallow pants. My eyes close instinctively, drinking in the sensation. “The darkness...why...”

His hand has migrated up my forearm, to my biceps, then my shoulder, his thumb massaging softly against the muscles. He’s moved, in utter silence, and must be standing in front of me now, because his other hand is tracing up my other arm and shoulder, too. The realization is alarming—that he could move anywhere without my knowledge—but it’s thrilling as well. “The darkness,” he begins, “Is to keep our identities a secret. But it’s also to create a sense of mystery. Not to mention...” His lips land ever so softly on my shoulder, and I gasp. “...being robbed of the sense of sight only helps to heighten the other senses. Do you feel that, Rose?”

He knows damn well I feel his lips brushing up against my skin as he speaks, and he’s right; every one of my senses is definitely in overdrive. Oh my God.

I want him .

It doesn’t make sense, its irrational, and it’s downright reckless to even think about it. But, damn, do I want him. And I’m pretty sure he knows that , too.

“What usually happens...” My breath hitches at the sensation of his teeth grazing boldly across the curve of my shoulder. “In this room, I mean. Do you...fuck everyone that comes in here with you?” Just being able to verbalize the question boldens me. I’ve never been a fan of the ‘F’ word, but what else could you really call it when you’re in a room with a complete stranger you can’t see? Christ, his touch and the couple shots I’ve had are loosening me up a bit, it seems.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his lips kiss tenderly along the side of my neck. At first, gentle, with featherlight pecks. Then, his tongue, warm and sensual, joins in, sucking and tasting me, making me inhale sharply.

“Almost anything can happen in this room, Rose,” he explains, never once missing a beat as his kisses land on my skin in time with my heartbeat. “But, no. I’ve never fucked anyone in here. Although, I’m not opposed to it, to be honest.”

It’s pitch black, but I can feel him grinning like a mischievous teenager.

The thing is, if he keeps kissing me like that , I’m not sure I’m overly opposed to it, either.

Christ, what is wrong with me? Where have my morals and self-respect gone?

They’re safely tucked at home, that’s where—right along with my jogging pants, boring life, and nonexistent love life.

Tonight, I’m not safe and sheltered Sadie Mitchell...I’m Rose. And she’s wild, reckless, and free.

“How much time do we have?” The question falls from my lips just as I reach forward in the darkness, for the first time feeling the warm, bare skin of his chest.

I can’t breathe. Oh my God, is he naked?

Daringly, I let my fingers trail down the chiseled contours of the side of his abdomen, and let out a sigh of relief when my fingers find the edge of a belted pair of jeans. He’s not naked. At least, not yet.

“Lots of time,” he breathes just before nipping at my collarbone with his teeth.

I gasp again, and I’m not sure my legs are going to holding me up much longer.

“Good,” I pant, giving in. “Because, if you’re not opposed, then I want to be your first.”