Cassie was washing her hands in the basin when the bathroom door flung open, hitting the wall with a deafening crack. She turned, startled by a remembered sense of fear from a similar situation, and stared at the fury in T.J.’s eyes as he loomed in the doorway.

“You’ve been down here before.”

She snapped her gaping mouth shut and schooled her expression. Breathe. She broke the words down in her mind, hoping to convince herself they were spoken in jealousy, not hatred. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His nostrils flared and his large frame inched forward, for the first time coming toward her with menace. “You gave yourself away.”

She turned back toward the basin, lowering her head as she calmly grabbed the hand towel and dried her fingers. “I gave what away?”

He growled, the deep rumble of his chest caressing her ears. He came up behind her, grabbed the towel and threw it back onto the counter. “Look at me.”

She swallowed, raising her focus to the mirror and the furious man staring back at her. For a second, she was scared, not of him, but of how their marriage was turning into more of a mangled wreck with each passing second. Soon it would be unsalvageable. Soon all hope would be lost.

He grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. Although he was angry as hell, his grip was in contrast, a light caress, a loving brush of fingers. She turned to him, glimpsed the sadness in his eyes right before his gaze fell to where they touched, and he dropped his hold.

Emotions flickered across his features—heartache, yearning, confusion, before finally morphing back to anger. “Answer me,” he snarled.

She scoffed. “From my understanding, all you’ve done is fling accusations at me. I’ve yet to be asked a question.” She stepped into him and raised her chin so they were almost eye to eye. “And even if you were demanding answers from me, you have no right anymore. I’m no longer your concern.”

“Don’t play with me, Cass.” He stepped into her, thigh to thigh, menacingly close.

She’d never been immune to his dominance. Outside of the bedroom, they were a regular couple. Scratch that. Outside of the bedroom, they were an enviable couple, their love evident to anyone who witnessed them together. Behind closed doors, the parallels of their relationship changed. He was no longer the protector. He was the predator. The man with an insatiable need for her, a passion so carnal she woke up in a sweat from mere dreams of it.

“I can’t stand seeing you this way.” His nose scrunched in distaste. “Spite doesn’t look pretty on you.”

Spite? Spite. Could he not see she was fighting for her life here? For his love?

“Yeah?” She raised a brow in defiance. “Well, being a coward doesn’t look favorably on you either.”

“I’m not a coward, Cass.”

“Hmm?” She narrowed her gaze. “Then what would you call it? You’re running away from a perfect marriage. You’re hiding from something you can’t even tell me about. If that’s not cowardice, I don’t know what is.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Because you won’t tell me.” Her voice turned to a plea.

“It’s better this way. I need you to come to terms with that.”

“No. You need to come to terms with me not giving up on us.” Her tone lacked conviction. Her heart, too. She couldn’t take much more of this. Fighting for a man who no longer wanted to be fought for. Battling for a cause that had already been lost. “Until I have all the answers, I can’t give up. I need closure.” She stepped into him, resting her forearms against his chest. “Tell me why you need this divorce. Tell me what changed if it wasn’t that night in Tampa.”

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, unable to stop herself when he was so close. Her mouth ached for him. All she needed was a kiss. A connection. She’d convince him to stay from the slightest contact.

“You still desire me.” She didn’t break their stare. “I think you always will.”

“You’re right. But my attraction to you was never in question.”

She balked at his honesty. “Then what is it? Don’t you love me anymore?”

Her fingers clung to his shirt, her gaze raking his features, scouring for answers. She was inching closer to where she needed to be. If she knew what she was fighting against, she could better equip herself. She’d no longer be battling in the dark.

“Tate, please tell me.”

His gaze softened, his lips parted as if poised to speak. Then the shield went down, his forehead scrunched in annoyance, and he stepped back with a derisive laugh. “You almost had me.”

He shook his head, ran a hand over the darkened stubble of his chin. “But let’s get back to the real reason I’m in here, shall we?” Her heart dropped at the returned venom in his tone. “Tell me, Cassie. When did you come to the Vault without me?”

* * *

Hell. How the fuck had this turned back to him? He couldn’t think straight around her. She was confusing him. Changing the subject without him noticing. He hadn’t come in here to succumb to the emotional plea in her eyes. He’d come for answers.

“How did you get in?” He attempted to act in control even though he was backtracking, stepping away from her.

She huffed. “I guess we both have questions that won’t get answered.”

The way she focused on him, intent, powerful, made him drown in the sparkling gorgeousness of her conviction. She had unending faith in them. In their love. And fuck, it was tearing him apart. He wanted to tell her, to announce the truth and let her know this divorce wasn’t what he wanted.

It was what he needed—to protect her.

He’d changed her. Shaped a beautifully innocent woman into a skillful seductress because of his wants and desires. He’d driven her to be curious about a place like the filthy establishment in Tampa. But that was only half of his problem. The rest was out of his control. There was so much she didn’t know, and telling her would only inflict more pain.

“I guess we’re done here.” She paused for a moment, waiting for words he couldn’t find. With an overly dramatic flick of her hair over her shoulder, she turned on her heel and sauntered out of the bathroom, leaving him to sink into infatuation.

He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t fight it. No matter how much time they spent apart, he’d always want her. Need her. Beg to be between her heavenly thighs, tearing murmurs of adoration from her lips. Even just to hold her. To comfort. He’d give all their years together if they could start again. He had no control over his body’s reaction to Cassie. His palms itched to touch, his lips ached at the thought of a kiss.

There had never been anything more mesmerizing than the love and affection he’d once glimpsed in her eyes. Yet here, now, the spark of determination he’d seen burning inside her was like a physical caress over his cock.

He all but jogged from the bathroom, yanking the door open with too much force. “How did you get down here?” His voice was loud, almost a yell. He still needed answers. Even more so, he needed her proximity.

She stopped at the foot of the large bed in the center of the room and slid a hand on her hip. “I followed you down here, remember?”

“You know I’m not talking about tonight.” He lumbered toward her, clenching his fists at his sides to stop from reaching for her. “Tell me when you’ve been down here before.”

“Or what?” She cocked a brow. “What are you going to do if I don’t tell?”

He growled his frustration, the rumble burning from his chest all the way up his throat. “I already know the answer. I could tell by your lack of surprise when you walked in here tonight. I’d just been too distracted until now to pick up on it. There’s no point denying the truth, Cass. I know you’ve been down here.”

Her lips tilted in a seductive curve. “Maybe.”

“Who let you in?”

The curve of her lips increased. “That’s not your concern anymore, remember?”

Jealousy, thick and rich, pulsed through his veins. “Cassie.” Her name vibrated from his lips in a lethal combination of anger and anguish.

“Tate,” she mimicked.

“When?” The bed was right here. At his side. A taunting possibility that he could throw her on the mattress and tie her down until he’d sated himself inside her addictive body. “Did a staff member show you around? Was it Travis? Shay? Or was it during a party night?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” She was enjoying this. The excitement was in her eyes, the kick of her lips. He was revealing his cards. Showing her he still cared. “Why, T.J.? You made it clear you no longer love me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to fall into her trap. He wanted to deny it, to explain exactly how much her love meant to him. But he couldn’t afford to take another retreating step tonight.

“You entered the club without my knowledge. I want to know how.” He opened his eyes and peered down at her, taking the final step between them. She had a hold of him. Every limb, every breath. He could no longer stand the thought of her down here without him. The need to know burned through his veins. The images of her amongst the club patrons was torture.

“Please.” He glided his fingers over her jaw, gently grabbed her chin and savored the way her eyes fluttered closed. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Cassie. I can only imagine the impact you had on the regulars if you came down here while it was open.”

He ran his thumb over her chin, grazing the sensitive skin just below her mouth. “Was it, sweetheart? Did you come here to play? Did Brute see you? Leo?”

She was falling under his spell, her lips parting in need. Problem was, he was equally consumed with desire. His cock was throbbing, pounding in an incessant beat to match his pulse.

He ran a hand through her loose hair and placed the other on her hip, ascending, climbing higher until his palm was almost at the curve of her breast. “Tell me,” he whispered. “When were you down here?”

She shook her head, denying him her thoughts, but not her body. Her head leaned into his grasp, her chest into his, the warmth of her abdomen scorching his cock.

He was slipping out of lucidity, his head now filled with thoughts of pleasure, his body lost to the possibility of release. He leaned in, brushed his lips over the perfection of the smooth skin below her ear and breathed in her perfume.

“Tell me.” He was no longer sure what he was asking for. Couldn’t remember why he was even here, apart from the need to have her.

Her hands came to rest on his pecs. The greedy scratch of her nails above his shirt drove him insane with want. It had been over twelve months since he’d paid homage to her body. More than 365 days. An eternity.

His mind knew that was way too long. His cock did, too. It was his heart, the painful ache in his chest that tainted the moment, reminding him he’d made the choice to give up this pleasure. He couldn’t succumb under the weight of attraction.

But he’d started this for a reason. He still needed answers. Sleeping at night wouldn’t be an option if he didn’t find out when she’d been here and what she’d done. He pulled back, waited until her eyes blinked open, before he wove her hair around his fist, making it impossible for her to move. “I need to know.”

“And I need you.” She trailed her fingertips down his chest, over his stomach to the crotch of his pants. Her hand palmed his cock, releasing a needy little moan as she did it.

He snarled, hating how weak she made him, fighting the burn of attraction as she nuzzled her nose against his. “Tell me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer he knew wasn’t coming. Instead, he smashed his mouth against hers and gripped the back of her head to hold her tightly. He parted her lips with his tongue and ground his erection into her.

He could feel her everywhere—against his chest, in his mind, through his soul.

“Tell me,” he growled into her mouth.

She whimpered, her body going languid against him. Her lips were the most delicate silk, her scent an intoxicating blend of everything sweet and vulnerable in the world. She gripped his shirt and pulled it from his waistband, brushing her fingers against his skin like a branding iron.

His need for answers became lost in the urgency to have her. Twelve months, he kept repeating to himself. He’d done without this for twelve months. How had he lived? How had he breathed?

He lifted her, placed her on the clean sheets of the bed in the middle of the room and then strode for the door, slamming it shut with a hard shove of his trembling hand.

When he turned to her, she was on her back, resting against her elbows, her body a vision he’d been starved of. He wanted to make it right, to turn off the fluorescent lights and bathe her in the warm glow of the lamp, but this wasn’t about setting a mood or deepening her already infallible appeal. This was about finding answers. It was. It really, really was.

If only he could focus.

He stormed for her, not stopping until his knees hit the mattress, jolting the bed frame. “Tell me,” he demanded. “When were you here?”

She frowned, breaking the glazed look of arousal. “I guess this was a mistake.” She pushed to a seated position, her body turning briefly to the opposite side of the bed in an attempt to flee.

Like hell. He lunged for her, caught her around the waist and dragged her back to the center of the mattress. When he released her this time, something new twinkled in her eyes. Something fierce and deliciously naughty. Something he’d never seen from Cass before.

He lunged for her again, this time her mouth, slamming his lips into hers with enough force to steal the breath from her lungs. She clung to him, digging her fingertips into his shoulders, running a hand through his hair. He was lost, delirious, inching closer to being sated.

He parted her legs with a shove of his knee and sank his body between her thighs, pinning her to the bed. She didn’t protest, didn’t deny him, yet when he pulled back, the look she gave him was lethal. A warning he was sure he’d regret not adhering to in the near future.

With his pelvis holding down her lower body, he reached for the bedside dresser and removed a scarf from the drawer. She licked her lips as he slanted over her, her gaze tracing his movements as he tied her left and then her right wrist to the wrought-iron bedhead.

She was a sight. Splayed for his gratification. A goddess at his mercy. Exquisite. All he needed was her clothes on the floor and her legs parted with restraints, then she would be perfect.

He cascaded one hand over her body—down her arm, over the curves of her breasts to the softness of her waist. “I could touch you for hours.”

She bucked her hips, pulsing her abdomen into him, making his fingers itch to go lower. “Yet you haven’t in months.”

He ignored her, unable to give her a response that wouldn’t incite self-loathing. He’d vowed to stay away, to let her move on. More importantly, he’d promised himself not to succumb to his desires, not wanting to give her hope… And now look where he was.

Fuck. He needed to get out of here. Now. “When were you here, Cass?”

She whimpered, undulating her hips against his. “Kiss me.” Her voice was breathy—a seductive plea.

He lowered his head to her neck, hiding his pain from view. There was no doubt she thought this was about lust, and, yes, he was burning to have her. But what kept him here was fear. The panic that she was curious enough to attend a sex club without him. That she could walk into another predator’s trap in the future if he wasn’t there to look after her. And it was jealousy, too. So much goddamn jealousy he wanted to cry out at the pain of it.

There was no other man for her. There couldn’t be.

Not now. Not ever.

He brushed his mouth against her neck, her jaw, her cheek. Each touch resulted in a tiny whimper from her lips, and a harsh pulse of blood to his cock. “I suppose I can’t blame you for your curiosity.” He lavished her with delicate kisses. “I’m just disappointed I wasn’t here to witness the first time you came to the Vault.”

Devastated was more accurate.

Her eyes were closed, her hands gripping the scarf woven around her palms. He licked the seam of her lips, teased her tongue with his own. She was so receptive, her body rising to meet the glide of his hand as it travelled lower, over her thigh to the hem of her short skirt.

He didn’t want to go this far. He’d die a million deaths getting over this. Only she felt too good. Too right.

“God, how I’ve missed this body.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Her curves did crazy things to him. She was the perfect fit, a flawless woman in every sense of the word. He closed his eyes as the tips of his fingers reached her panties, the heat of her sex so close to his touch. “Tell me, gorgeous. Did you come here to see me?”

She whimpered again, this time tilting her head to demand a kiss he wouldn’t give.

“You can tell me.” He was struggling to find the strength to speak. The power to stop. He wanted to shuck his pants and drive into her, knowing full well her pussy would be dripping wet for him.

“Yes.” She nodded, straining against her restraints. “I was here.”

He froze, every nerve tense, every muscle taut. “When?” He spoke even though his throat threatened to close over.

“Does it matter?” she panted.

He growled, his frustration barely contained. The tips of his fingers ran through the brief patch of hair at the apex of her thighs, his touch stopping on the swollen nub just beneath. “Everything matters,” he grated into her ear. “Tell me everything.”

She shook her head, her hands pulling tighter against the scarf.

He flicked her clit, once, twice, gaining sadistic satisfaction every time she whimpered. The need for her ran heavy through his veins, pulsing with undeniable intent. He had to pleasure her. To bring her to climax like he had so many times before.

“I was here last week.”

He stopped breathing. His vision blurred. “At the masquerade party?”

She mewled, nodding.

Vertigo assailed him, and he sank the arm he rested on deeper into the bed to keep him stable while his fingers clung to the sheet. He forced his other hand to continue stroking her clit, denying himself the need to flee before he knew every little detail.

“Were you with someone?”

She opened her eyes, the arousal flickering under the scrutiny of her narrowed gaze. “Yes.” The word was emphatic, confident, shooting an arrow through his chest.

“Tell me who, Cass.” He couldn’t control the steel in his tone. He would kill the man. Maim him, at the very least. “Who were you with?”

Her features softened, the caring, sweet woman he knew came shining through. She leaned forward, then fell back and huffed in frustration over the restraints. She snaked out her tongue, moistening kiss-darkened lips. “I was with the man I love.”

Fuck. Her words were like dynamite, blowing him to pieces. He slid back, moving from the bed, unwilling to believe what her words implied.

“I was with you,” she continued.

“No.” His heart pumped at the speed of a freight train. His mind flashed images with vivid clarity. The new member—the woman with black hair and brown eyes. Jesus Christ. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to trick him.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You kissed me, T.J. You were attracted to me.”

Fucking hell. He’d died ten times over from guilt because of her. Yet he’d known. Somehow. There was no way he could’ve kissed someone else. His subconscious had known it was her. Even under the disguise.

“I knew you still loved me,” she announced with conviction. “Thursday night was proof of that. You couldn’t resist. Just like you can’t now. We weren’t meant to be apart, T.J.”

He ignored her, wiping a hand down his face as he began to pace. “How did you get in?”

She tugged at her restraints and huffed. “Can you untie me?”

“How, Cassie?”

She flopped back against the pillows. “Fake ID.”

He stopped pacing, nodded and succumbed to defeat. He’d received the answers he needed to sleep at night. He’d also received a reprieve from a small part of his guilt. Now it was time to leave.

He strode for the head of the bed, focusing on her restraints instead of the glimmer of hope in her eyes. He was a fucking bastard. A coward, like she’d accused earlier. He leaned down and kissed the smooth skin of her wrist, right above the scarf.

“I know you still love me.” She reached for his face.

He pulled away, unable to withstand the affection in her touch. This was it. The final blow that would make her stop doubting that their marriage was over. He needed to convince her to move on. And unfortunately, he knew exactly how to do it.

“The affect you had was desire.” He straightened to his full height, glancing down at her with what he hoped was a convincing look of pity. “Nothing more.”

The lie stung, and each word he spoke crumpled her determined features into a mass of heart-wrenching anguish.

“I don’t believe you.”

A part of him cheered that she knew him so well. The rest of him died under the need to push harder. He shrugged, giving her a look that belied the guilt assailing him. “I’m not going to waste time mourning our marriage. I’m moving on. I suggest you do the same.”

Her face paled, the final blow hitting its mark. He turned, unable to see her like this. Unable to withstand it when he was the one tearing her apart. He strode for the door, each step away from her bringing more agony.

She wouldn’t recover from this. He knew it, because he wouldn’t recover either.