Sin

by Violetta Rand

  “Anything else?” He doesn’t bother looking up.

  “You coldhearted bastard.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  I grab the ring box and throw it at him. It hits his face. “Say something. Do something. Feel anything. But don’t just sit there and act like nothing happened.”

  He rolls his chair back. Then he folds his hands on his lap and takes a deep breath. I’m ready for an emotional beating. I deserve it. I’ll let him shake me senseless if that’s what it takes to bring us back together. Only I’m not the one who can make that decision. I wronged him. Only he has the power to heal us. I can beg his forgiveness, but I refuse to ask for a second chance; I don’t deserve one. Then he gazes at me, his cheeks flushed, and those eyes…Fear spirals up my spine. I retreat a couple of steps. Before I reach the door, he lunges over his desk, paperwork flying everywhere. He blocks my way out.

  “You need visual confirmation of how deeply you’ve wounded me?” He slams his fist against his chest. “You fucking ripped my heart out, Macey.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” He throws his head back and laughs. “There’s no redemption for you.”

  “I know.”

  “You lied to me—told me you’d never cheat on me. You couldn’t keep your fucking legs closed the minute you found yourself alone with Bishop. Was it worth it, Macey? Did he fuck you as good as I do?”

  “I didn’t sleep with him.” That much I know.

  “Maybe not,” he says. “But he’s been over to your house every night since Valentine’s Day.”

  “Spying on me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, woman.”

  Then I hear Simon yawn and shuffle around in his kennel. I want my puppy. I need something to love. I push past Joshua. The kennel is behind his desk. I bend over, pulling it out so I have better access. Joshua clamps onto my hips from behind.

  “Don’t touch him.”

  “What?” I spin around. “He’s mine.”

  “No,” he disagrees. “Not anymore.”

  My teeth sink into my bottom lip. I’m angry. It’s one thing to trample all over me, but why would he deprive me of Simon? “Fuck you, Camden.”

  My words do nothing. “Simon has a new home now,” he informs me. “I’m taking him to Kingsville this weekend.”

  “No you’re not.” I attempt to get around Joshua’s large frame, but he grabs my arms.

  “Get out of my office.”

  “No.”

  “Out.” He points at the door.

  “Let me take him home.”

  “Macey.” He shakes me. “I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. Simon is no longer your concern.”

  I smack Joshua’s chest and shove him as hard as I can. The only reason he stumbles is because I caught him off guard. He comes at me full force, fastening his big hand around my throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure—it’s a dominance thing, one I like. He’s trying to intimidate me, but it’s not having the desired effect. Our gazes lock. And suddenly I’m aware of every nerve ending in my body. I feel my heart beat and wet heat surges between my legs. Just his touch sets me off. I’m ready to shatter.

  “Want to hurt me?”

  He rests his forehead against mine. “I’d like to do much more than that,” he growls, baring his teeth like a wolf. “And if you don’t leave, I can’t promise I’ll be able to control myself much longer.”

  “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

  His chest rises and falls violently. He clenches his fist, heat rolling off his body. I gasp when he spins me around, lifts my skirt, and bends me over his desk. He reaches between my legs, cupping my sex.

  “Jesus Christ, Macey.” His fingers delve underneath the seam of my G-string. “You’re drenched.”

  “Please…”

  He hugs me close, his fingers sliding in and out of me at a punishing speed while he bites his way down my neck. I want him. And I know he wants me, too. He’s in savage mode right now, debating whether or not he should take me. He thinks he can resist the magnetic pull between us, but I know he can’t. He pinches my clit and my legs turn to jelly. I try to straighten up, but he pushes me back down.

  “Is this what you want, darlin’?” he purrs near my ear.

  I nod, too entranced to speak.

  “Then find Bishop,” he says, withdrawing his fingers. “I’m sure he’ll finish what I started.”

  —

  Rage is strangling me. I can’t be near her or I’ll give in. I feel horrible, not because I just left Macey sexually frustrated—that’s gratifying—but because I don’t have control over myself anymore. Julia made me feel dead inside. Macey resurrected me. And now I’m barely hanging on again, my heart in ribbons, my mind reaching new levels of crazy.

  I gaze at Macey; she’s still splayed across my desk. “Leave.”

  She shivers and I can hear her sniffling. More fucking tears. I close my eyes, focusing on something else, anything but her. She finally whips around and storms past me, opens the door, then slams it shut. The picture frame next to the door falls, glass shattering.

  I shatter.

  Suddenly Texas doesn’t appeal to me anymore. Not Corpus Christi and certainly not this club. The state isn’t big enough for Macey and me. And I refuse to work under the same roof with her. I scan the walls, reading every goddamned inspirational quote on my sports artwork, seeking wisdom. None of them offer any sound advice for what you’re supposed to do when your whole world just imploded. Or when you seek revenge against a man that compromised the woman you love. Bishop’s fucking face is a permanent part of my memory. I’ve spent hours plotting what torture tactics I’ll utilize before I kill him.

  Someone knocks on the door a few minutes later and I check the security monitor. Glenda is waiting outside. I shake my head, hesitant to let her in. “Enter.”

  She takes one look at the papers and glass on the floor, and offers me a shot glass. “Tequila,” she says.

  I suck it down, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, then slam the glass on my desk.

  “Hair of the dog?” she asks.

  “I’m not hungover.”

  She clicks her tongue. “Yes you are.”

  I squint at her.

  “Denial is a river in Egypt.”

  “If you have something to say, Glenda,” I start, bitterness overtaking me. “Abandon the outdated euphemisms and get to the fucking point.”

  “All right.” She edges closer to me. “That girl loves you—she’d never cheat on you. Never. She just quit. Grabbed her dance bag, cleared out her locker, and told me to have a nice life.”

  “She just solved one of my biggest problems, then.”

  “You egotistical twat,” she spits. “You think the whole world revolves around you. Everything is black and white. Someone messes up and you just throw them aside, wipe your privileged little hands clean, and move on. I expected better from you.” She snatches the shot glass off my desk and leaves.

  I’m speechless. Glenda just called me a twat. What does she expect me to do? I’m flanked on all sides—under attack by Macey, my ex, Bishop, and now my employees. And word spreads quickly in this place. Although Macey and I managed to keep our private affairs quiet most of the time, her absence will be felt and not appreciated. At all. She’s well respected here. And recently, some of the girls that quit after I first showed up have started to come back. That may change in the near future.

  Consequences, Camden. I knew the risks the moment I set eyes on her. But my dick overrode my conscience. Then I fell in love. I smash my hands against the wall. I’m pretty sure everything I’ve done in the last few hours qualifies me as crazy. And maybe Glenda sees right through me. Maybe my hatred is like temporary insanity; I’m blinded by jealousy right now. Consumed by everything Macey. I know she didn’t have sex with Bishop, but she kissed him. Touched him. Wanted him. Drunk or not. Alcohol reveals truths tha
t are buried deep inside. And I have a feeling that’s why Macey gave up heavy drinking.

  Maybe she stumbled through life for so long she finally needed a blast of reality.

  Well, I gave her one a few minutes ago. Consequences. And this “forgiveness is divine” shit is just that, a pile of crap. The saints don’t have to deal with women. I do. Every day. I crawl under the desk and retrieve the ring box. I sit on the floor and open it. I searched days for the right one; twelve thousand dollars bought it. Flawless stones for my perfect girlfriend. I close my eyes. Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

  Now she’s gone, and I’m not sure I can deal with it…

  Chapter 24

  I stare at my calendar. February 22—the countdown until Spring Break starts. I put a check mark next to the date, my way of remembering how many days I’ve been without Joshua. I’ve cried myself to sleep for a week. So there are no more tears. Now I’m running on overdrive—slowly adapting. I’ve quickly moved on to the third stage of grief—bargaining with myself. Call me silly, but I actually feel free since I left the club, like the whole world just opened up and I can go anywhere and do anything. No strings. Europe. Russia. India. All the places I love. Or stay right here in Corpus. I have enough money to retire. I’d have to leave this house and buy a condo or rent an apartment, but maybe that’s the best thing for me, investing in a place of my own.

  I open my laptop and search for real estate on Zillow. Several properties pop up that catch my attention. There’s a condo on Mingo Cay Court, a two-bedroom/two-bath on Padre Island, beachfront with a boat slip. And there’s a shared pool. I scan the photos; it’s small but cute. Stainless-steel appliances, lots of windows, and no carpet.

  My cell rings. Desire? I answer. “Hey, girl.”

  “What’s up, Macey?”

  “Enjoying the easy life—no worries.”

  “There’s a party at Roper’s tonight. Girls’ night out. A few beers and margaritas and lots of cowboys.”

  She’s never asked me to go anywhere before. “Miss me?” I tease.

  “Actually, we all do.”

  My mouth drops open. I requested some space, so even Glenda and Dave haven’t called all week. The only people I’ve talked to are Robyn and Bishop. “What time?”

  “Nine.”

  “I’ll go.”

  “Good,” she says. “Take care.” She hangs up.

  It’s been too long since I went clubbing by myself. I run upstairs to pick an outfit, then it hits me. That little condo I just looked at is smaller than my closet. I laugh, searching for the perfect jeans and halter top. I pull out two pairs of pants; the Gucci stretch denim wins. Matched with my open-back top and my vintage Lucchese cowboy boots, I’ll blend perfectly. I even have a sterling silver belt buckle.

  The cab picks me up at eight thirty. I know the driver well. “Hello, Marty.”

  “Nice to see you again, Macey.” He opens the door for me.

  Every stripper needs a trusted cabdriver for the nights she gets drunk; Marty is mine. He climbs in and we speed away.

  “Where to?”

  “Roper’s.”

  “Is that what the hat is for?” He laughs, checking me out in his rearview mirror.

  “Well, it’s not Halloween,” I tease. “It’s fun playing dress-up.”

  We arrive at the club within twenty minutes. I give him a twenty for a ten-dollar fare. “I’ll call when I’m ready to go home.” Always smart to have him on standby when I plan on partying. And that’s what I’m going to do tonight: drink, dance, and make out with a cowboy I’ll never see again.

  The doorman ID’s me, then waves me inside. Roper’s is the stereotypical country bar, all dance floor with tables situated around it. There are neon signs and other Texas-themed artwork hanging on the walls, a large bar, a DJ booth, and mirrors. I find Desire, Kiana, Stephanie, and a couple of girls I don’t know in the farthest corner. They have three pitchers of beer and supersized frozen margaritas. The club just starts coming to life between nine and ten, so it’s still pretty easy to get around.

  I order a Lemon Drop and a Salty Dog. “What are we celebrating?” I ask, hugging Desire, glad to see a familiar face.

  “Getting the hell out of the club on a Friday night.” She smiles. “You’ve inspired a rebellion, I think.”

  “Really?”

  “No one else knows why you quit, but I do.”

  “You’re the next best thing to the National Enquirer,” I compliment her. “But sometimes you need to keep your secrets.”

  “I will,” she says. “But I know it’s Joshua.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

  Desire is my equal. She’s a shrewd dancer who makes thousands of dollars a week because she knows how to entertain men. I’ve always admired her business savvy, but we just run in different social circles. “Yeah.” I can’t lie to her.

  “He’s not taking it very well.”

  I’m not sure I want to know how he’s doing. Just hearing his name makes me flinch. “He made the choice.” I won’t elaborate further. “So what’s going on in your personal life?”

  She grins. “Maybe a little Dave.”

  “DJ Dave?”

  She nods, looking guilty. “Oh. My. God.” I’d have never imagined the two of them together, but now that I think about it—wow. “About time that boy settled down.”

  “Don’t rush things,” she says. “We’re exploring our possibilities, getting to know each other first.”

  I drink my shot, then alert the waitress I want another one. “We’ll have to go out to dinner. Dave’s my homeboy.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I asked you out tonight,” she says. “He told me I needed to obtain your approval before we can take the next step.”

  I laugh. My brother from another mother is always watching out for me. “I’d rather see him hook up with you than a lot of the other girls we know.” Desire is hot—tall and curvy in all the right spots. But she parties too much, like I used to. Hopefully she and Dave won’t be bad influences on each other. “Don’t break his heart.”

  A couple of cowboys approach the table and ask Kiana and Stephanie to dance. Cole Swindell’s “Hope You Get Lonely Tonight” is playing. I like the song, but not enough to get out there yet. I enjoy watching the couples spin across the floor, though. It’s pretty much elbow to elbow. I search the crowd for Kiana, but she’s disappeared. Stephanie swings by and I wave. Our waitress returns a few minutes later with a loaded tray. Margaritas for everyone and two shots for me.

  “Who ordered this round?” I ask.

  Desire shrugs.

  “There’s a cowboy across the way,” the waitress says. “He ordered the drinks and says he can’t keep his eyes off you.”

  “Can you point him out so I can thank him?”

  “No, ma’am,” she answers. “He wants to remain anonymous, but says if you pay close enough attention, you’ll find him.”

  I offer her a tip, but she refuses it and scuttles away. “I’ve been here half an hour and I already have a secret admirer.”

  Desire takes a long drink from her margarita. “Doesn’t have anything to do with your big tits and flat stomach.”

  “I agree. It’s all about my winning personality.”

  We both laugh. Personality has nothing to do with it, not in a meat market like this. My gaze sweeps the nearest tables. I’m curious who has his eye on me. I need a Texas cowboy to get lost in tonight. I love the smell of leather and cologne. I also enjoy their candor. There are no games, no rich-boy bullshit to wade through. Just sexy, raw maleness and an occasional fistfight. I finish my shots and take a sip of water.

  “Better slow down,” Desire warns. “That’s four already.”

  “Lemon Drops,” I remind her. Two-thirds sugar, one-third alcohol.

  “Just saying.”

  “I took a cab tonight.”

  She nods. Then another guy shows up and asks her to dance. “Do you mind?”

  There’
s an unspoken rule that you never leave a friend alone at a table. “Go on.” I smile as her Wrangler-clad admirer leads her away. Two more songs play out and none of my companions are back yet. The waitress returns with another drink for me. Champagne this time.

  “Tell me who he is,” I whisper.

  She shakes her head, hands me the flute, then leaves. He must be a big tipper if she’s willing to refuse my money and not talk. I grab my clutch and carry my drink with me to the restroom. On the way, two guys ask me to dance, but I refuse, intrigued with finding out who’s watching me and why. There’s a pretty long line, so I lean against the paneled wall, still able to see the dance floor.

  The DJ announces a classic rock set and “Kiss You All Over” by Exile comes on. I scoot down a couple of feet as the line grows shorter, then close my eyes, mouthing the lyrics everyone knows. Joshua immediately pops into my mind. Get out. But he refuses to. Kiss you all over and over again…And that’s what he’s done, between my legs, up my stomach, my fingertips, and oh, God, my lips. No one kisses like Joshua. I need to regain control before I do something stupid. And my head is already swimming. Champagne and shooters don’t mix.

  Then for some reason my eyes pop open and there he is. My cowboy, standing a few yards away. I’m confident it’s him, because his gaze is unashamedly sliding down my body. He’s everything I’d expect him to be. Blond curls are sticking out from underneath the brim of his black Stetson. He’s wearing a khaki and brown snap shirt that accentuates his broad chest and shoulders. His ridiculously large gold belt buckle captures my attention. Ever wonder why they wear those silly things? I’m not afraid to look between his legs. Perfect cowboy bulge—perfect Wranglers two sizes too small. And snakeskin boots. I take another sip of Champagne, diverting my eyes. I’ll play along.

  I drift into the restroom and check my makeup, use a stall, then wash my hands. I’m out in record time. He’s gone. Maybe I’m losing it. Two years off the dating scene. I head back to my table. He’s waiting for me, a red rose in his hand. As I approach, he tips his hat; he has a lazy grin, but I see perfect white teeth and beard stubble. In the old days I’d have touched him.