by James, Clare
Chapter 21
“Gabe, what the hell is going on?” Max asks when we get to the bedroom at The Club and he spots me.
I hate to admit it, but Max looks good all fiery. His face is flushed and his body trembling. It’s been less than two weeks since he walked out my door, but he looks so different.
I watch and listen. Like Gabe said, I need to think it all through. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabe now. He’s motioning with his head to the other cupid. She leaves the room. Inside is a dimmed space with high ceilings and dark walls. There are two king size beds with flowing satin fabric hanging from the canopy—a bench sits at the foot of each—and a large wooden chest in the corner.
“I could ask you the same thing, Max,” Gabe spits as he shuts the door. He seems ready for a fight.
Gabe and Max square off, while I take a seat on the bench.
After a long moment, Max sighs and dismisses Gabe, who easily retreats—it’s a little sad to watch. It’s like we’ve entered into some alternative universe. Then, Max sets his eyes on me and moves closer, placing his hands on my shoulders—all possessive and authoritative and, quite honestly, hot as hell.
Maybe it’s this place or my little adventure, but my libido is out of control as this new alpha male makes his presence. I’m so conflicted feeling this way—especially with what Gabe just said. And the way I feel about him. My life has turned upside down since I met him. All good things. Great things.
And he’s right, it’s not just the sex—though that has been absolutely mind-blowing. It’s also our picnics and dates and room service in bed. We’ve had the whole package.
“Let’s get this sorted out, Stevie,” Max says. “Because I’m not letting you go again.”
My stomach betrays Gabe as it flips at Max’s words. Still, I don’t say a word. I just sit there; I’m sure my mouth is hanging open, because I’m so dumbfounded, I can’t move. Instead, I watch Max’s conversation ping pong between Gabe and me.
Where was this guy for the past year?
Max, once again, turns his attention to Gabe.
“First, I need to know exactly what you’re up to, Gabe. Why did you bring Stevie here? You told me this club was the way for me to win her back. You said it helped you with your wife.”
Wife?
Oh no. No, no, no.
Gabe is married? My heart sinks at the thought. It was one of the first questions I asked him the night we met. And he lied to me? Was this all just a game to him?
Don’t let what happens in there change anything. That’s what Gabe just said. Is this what he met? Did he know Max was going to inform me of his marital status?
My skin flushes and I clench my teeth as my despair heats to anger. Was Gabe’s wife one of the women on the dance floor with us the first time at Venus? Or in the dark room? Do they get off on this?
I shoot scorching daggers at Gabe, and he shakes his head. But I can’t talk to him about that now. I don’t want to. I can’t think about anything with Max staring at me.
“I didn’t know Stevie was your ex, Jon—er, Max,” Gabe says, keeping his eyes on me.
I divert my gaze, unable to look at him anymore.
“How would I know that?” Gabe continues. “I met Stevie after I met you … when you let her go. I had no idea she was your ex.”
My stomach turns at that truth. Because Max did leave, knowing I had the worst possible impression. He left knowing I thought he cheated on me. And he let me believe that—let me fall apart for days. Only to be picked up by a married man—and a kinky one at that.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“I didn’t let her go.” Max turns back to me as he says this. “I’ve been fighting for her; I’m still fighting for her. What are you doing here, Stevie? You don’t belong in a place like this.”
I laugh—hysterical cackles that become uncontrollable. This situation couldn’t be more bizarre.
“Actually, I do,” I say when I regain my composure. “I was a mess when you left, Max. I’ve made some changes, and this club helped me. But this isn’t about me, and what I’m doing here, it’s about you. Why couldn’t you tell me what you were up to? Why did you let me think you were out screwing other women?”
“I never wanted you to think that,” he says. “I tried calling to explain once I got into Cincinnati. You wouldn’t pick up. And once I returned, you were MIA.”
This is so fucked up. He came to The Club to screw around with other women to help our relationship? Letting me think he was having an affair? But wasn’t he really? If he was at The Club, his actions weren’t innocent. No one knows this better than I do.
“I was embarrassed,” he says, his eyes soft and full of regret. “How could I tell you that I knew you hated our sex life, that you’ve never had an orgasm with me? I had already lost you. In fact, I’m not sure I ever had you, Stevie. But I want to. I want that more than anything.”
“You should’ve told me,” I whisper. “You made me feel like a freak. Anytime I confided in you about what I wanted, you acted like I was repulsive or something.”
“I wanted all of that with you, but you had more experience and I felt completely in adequate. It only got worse, and soon I couldn’t even do the most basic thing for my girl. I felt like a failure. But this was starting to help. That last time was better, wasn’t it?”
By like a million percent. Yet, not even close to my last time with Gabe.
My cheeks heat—very aware of Gabe in the room with us during this incredibly personal conversation. I steal a glance in his direction. He looks broken, shattered.
Serves him right—the married bastard.
And the realization sets in. I was falling—actually already fell—for Gabe. It’s been more than the exhilarating intro into the world of kink. The excitement and pure delight of the past week has been because of him. Period.
Doesn’t matter now. It’s all been a lie. Nothing but dirty little lies.
“I can’t do this!” I yell, standing up. “I can’t talk about my sex life with you with someone else in the room, Max.”
I take a few breaths to settle my internal tension, just waiting to explode.
“I need to leave,” I say, hearing the immediate hiss from Gabe.
“Don’t go, Stevie,” Gabe says. “We need to talk this out.”
“We have nothing left to discuss. You came here for your wife.” I shake my head in disgust.
Yes, disgust is better than heartache.
“And I guess Max and I came here for each other,” I continue. “Everything seems perfectly clear to me.”
“It’s not what it seems, Stevie.” Gabe takes a step toward me. “Let me explain.”
“I’ve had enough explanations for one night.” I hold up my hands to stop his advance.
“Let me take you home, Stevie.” Max slides in, taking my arm.
“Get your hands off her,” Gabe spits.
“Stop, both of you,” I tell them, yanking my arm from Max.
I shift back and forth between them, rationalizing what’s happened. What Gabe did is unforgiveable, there’s no getting past it. With Max, on the other hand, my heart warms knowing what he was trying to do. His execution was lacking, but the thought was there. He was trying to save us. And I can’t deny I feel safe with him, especially after finding out about Gabe’s secret. But it’s too soon to make any kind of decision.
I turn to Max and say, “I will talk to you later.”
Then as Gabe reaches for me, I stop him. “I think maybe it’s time to go back to your wife.” I yell over my shoulder before rushing out of a place I never want to see again.
Yet, in my haste, I hear his last words as I walk out.
“I can’t do that, Stevie.”
It means nothing to me.
Chapter 22
“What happened?” Tia demands when she opens the door. Her voice is loud and unapologetic and her roommate calls out asking what’s wrong.
“Nothing, go back to bed,”
she yells back.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “It’s too late, I should bother you.”
I feel terrible as Tia yawns, already in her pajamas. It’s just that her address was the first to come out of my mouth when the taxi driver asked, where to?
“Come.” She pulls me inside and we grab a seat at the breakfast bar. “Tell me what happened.”
I have a seat and take a gulp of the beer she opened and I start at the beginning.
I come clean about the kink and my sex problems with Max. And my newly found addiction to Gabe, his marriage, the initiation, Venus, and the entire fucked-up situation.
She is riveted, not saying a word—a first for Tia.
“Holy shit,” she whispers when I finish.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, you stay here until you figure it out. I’m not taking no for an answer this time. Who knows what you might get yourself into next? Damn girl, I had no idea. You make me look like an old woman.”
“But I have to get my stuff from the hotel, and Free. Oh shit. I can’t leave him by himself. I have to get there. I just don’t want to face Gabe.”
“Don’t worry.” She stands and wraps a coat over her pjs. “I’ll come with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, now put your shoes on and let’s go get your bird.”
We find a spot on the street with easy access in and out, I didn’t want to take any more chances getting stuck in the parking lot. Rushing inside, I keep my head down. So far so good. But as we round the corner to the elevator, I suddenly feel him.
“Stevie,” Gabe rushes toward me. “Thank God. I was so worried.”
I don’t look up at him because I need to stay strong for this.
Thankfully, Tia, my savior, handles it for me instead.
“Hey, back off,” she says. “We’re just here to pick up her things.”
“Just let me have a word,” Gabe is polite, but authoritative. That will not go over with Tia.
“I don’t think so, perv. Stevie’s told me all about you and frankly, I wouldn’t trust you to be alone with Free. So keep you kinky hands off and just go on your way.”
I glance up and can see the hurt in Gabe’s eyes, like I just betrayed him in the worst possible way.
“Stevie, please,” he begs.
“She means it, Gabe.” I look up at him now and he looks even more hurt than he did at The Club—if that’s even possible. The nerve. “She will make a scene, so it’s best to just leave us alone.”
The elevator rings and when we rush inside, he doesn’t join us. I can’t believe the regret I feel at that. Like I want him to keep running after me—fighting for me. Tia doesn’t say a word as go up to my floor. And when we make our way into the hotel room, she gets to work packing my things. Meanwhile, I sink down on the carpet and let the tears fall.
***
“Here, sweetie,” Tia hands me an extra pair of pajama pants.
I go into the bathroom to change and wash my face, hardly recognizing the person I see in the mirror. I’m red and blotchy from crying all night. It’s three a.m. now, so I have bags under my eyes to add to the mess that is my face.
When I come out to the living room, Tia’s set up an air mattress for the both of us. She’s arranging a pile of blankets and pillows. I hate putting her out this way.
“It’ll be just like a slumber party.” She winks. “Do you want some tea before bed?”
“No, thanks. I think I just need some sleep.”
“Yeah, I think so. Come on in.” She pats our make-shift bed.
I climb in and shut my eyes, but soon I’m tossing and turning. Something is bothering me—even more than my love life. Hell, I’m just going to ask her.
“Tia?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you really mean all that stuff you said to Gabe?” I ask. “Do you really think he’s a perv?”
She giggles. “No, of course not.”
“Well, why did you say that then? It was pretty convincing.”
“I know,” she boasts. “Did you see his face?”
“It was sad.”
“Not as sad as watching my best friend’s heart shatter.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” I probe.
“I hate what he did to your heart, honey. Not what he did to your body. Anything you’re cool with, I’m cool with too. It’s not my job to judge you and honestly, it sounds like you had a pretty amazing few weeks. I’m jealous.”
“Well that’s a first.” I laugh. Ms. Sexy, Sexy jealous of little ol’ me.
“What are you going to do, hon? Or should I be asking who are you going to do?”
I can feel her body shake, clearly laughing at her own joke. She’s right, it is just like our old slumber parties.
“I wish I knew.” I tell her. “I really do.”
***
The next day at work is hell.
I’m exhausted and sad and drained … and I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but I’m horny as all get out. I’ve grown accustomed to my new favorite stress reliever and not having that, on top of everything, has me ornery as fuck.
It doesn’t help when Gabe continues to call and text. Each time he does, his sexy-ass avatar comes up—the photo I took of him the morning after we made love the first time. His hair dark and disheveled against the white sheets. His lips full and slightly opened, just waiting to be plundered.
Gah!
I throw myself back into work. I’m more thankful than ever for the fitness account. I’m busy and, despite everything going on, I love the work.
A few hours later Max calls to tell me my mom wants us over for dinner this weekend. I hear his sweet message on voicemail. The fact that she still thinks we’re together gives me hope, Stevie. I want you to know I’m here. Waiting for you.
I’ve talked to Mom since everything went down with Max. In fact, I called her the night he left, just because I needed to hear her voice. But I couldn’t bear to listen to her criticism, so I never told her that we broke up. And then I called to tell her about the Forever Fit account. She put my dad on the phone too, and together they listened as I told them how I won the business. You’ve never seen people so proud of their kid.
It felt really good. And I want to continue riding that wave for a while. I bet if I asked him, Max would come with me. I know he would, no questions asked.
What the hell? I make the call.
Chapter 23
I walk into my apartment to Free flying in the living room—pausing every few seconds to perch and utter his new favorite sentence, “Going out with Gorgeous Gabe. Going out with Gorgeous Gabe.”
Max comes out from kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. He raises an eyebrow to Free’s declaration, before looking at me.
Shit.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Max.
“It’s okay, babe.” He laughs. “I deserve it. Maybe once I make it up to you, we can reprogram the bird.”
“Deal.” I smile.
I’ve been home for three days now. Max came to dinner at my parents and the next thing I know, we’re talking about getting back together. We’re taking it slow though. I still think the whole club idea was sketchy on his part. I understand what he was trying to do, and I think I can forgive him for it. Eventually. But in the meantime, Max has been sleeping on the couch. He tells me he wants to earn back my trust and his place in my bed. And that’s fine with me, because I’ve needed the time alone. I’m just not sure how long I can keep him at bay.
“I thought we’d have dinner out tonight,” Max says. “Does that work for you?”
“Sure,” I tell him, more concerned about what comes after dinner.
I slip into a sundress and let my hair fall out of my work bun. Max looks at me appraisingly.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
“Not so bad yourself,” I reply, taking in his linen shirt and worn jeans.
We walk to one of our favorite Italian
restaurants in the neighborhood. There’s a light breeze now that the sun has dropped a little. Max holds my hand, and it’s nice, comforting. His confidence has definitely improved, and it’s a joy to see. There’s nothing sexier than a man comfortable in his own skin.
Max gazes down at me as his thumb slides across my knuckles. My stomach tickles just a bit. Not the rapid fluttering like I felt with Gabe, but maybe a butterfly or two.
Inside the restaurant, the windows are open, inviting the breeze to flow inside. The candles flicker and it makes the scene even more romantic. Sadly, it reminds me of Gabe.
I have a penchant for all things Italian, his gritty voice rings in my ear.
Max orders a bottle of Chianti and olives once we’re seated, and I’m thankful for the tiny buzz the wine provides. Who would’ve thought I could be so unnerved having dinner with my boyfriend?
We feast on caprese salad, gnocchi, pasta Bolognese and almost a loaf of bread between the two of us. When the cappuccino and cannoli arrive, I feel like I’m going to burst. Max scoots his chair beside mine and feeds me the dessert. He’s so sweet and loving—and damn he’s working his ass off to please me.
Still, I worry it may be too late.
I know he wants to come into our bed tonight, but my hands grow damp and I get all jittery at the thought. What if, after all of this shit, it still doesn’t work and I can’t get off? Do I then just send my libido packing with a handshake and a smile?
What’s worse? If it does work, do I count myself lucky and forget about Gabe and my orgasmic adventure? I’m not sure I can. Or that I want to.
Max wraps me under his arm on our walk home. I count the steps as we walk, keeping my mind busy so I don’t overthink the situation. When we get up to our place, he pours two glasses of wine and turns on Sinatra—keeping with the Italian theme. He’s organized like that. Then, setting the glasses on the table, he pulls me in for a dance.
The last time I did this, I was in Gabe’s arms—the dirty dancing episode at The Club, and the most sensual night of my existence. Gah, I need to get that image out of my head pronto.
Although … it could be good fodder to get me ready for whatever Max has in mind for this evening.
