If Rebel is angry, I don’t want to be anywhere near him. He’s always struck me as the dark and dangerous type, and tonight, he’s playing the role well. If he goes off, I intend to be miles away from the detonation site.
Despite my uneasiness, I harden my voice. “If you intend to continue holding that over my head, don’t bother coming here anymore. I won’t be punished for something that was out of my control.”
His eyes narrow and, slowly, Rebel stands. He advances and for every step he takes, I take one back. There is a dark promise in his eyes, and even though warning bells are clanging in my head, my body is reacting. My blood simmers and my skin grows tighter as he closes in on me. We’re in a public place. Rebel won’t hurt me, but past experience dictates that he won’t be stopped from doing other things.
Spinning on my heel, I decide to get away from him as fast as I can. He may frequent Mirage, but I work here. I know this place better than him, and even if it’s not any kind of fortress, there are areas he’s not allowed.
I see Big John stationed at the opening to the hallway leading to the dressing room, and I make a beeline for him. If I can reach him, John will bar Rebel from following me.
I don’t reach him.
Rebel grabs hold of my wrists and pulls on it hard enough to make me lose my balance. I fall back against his chest, and his arms wrap around me, holding on tight. Lowering his head, his lips graze my ear as he speaks. “Don’t you know chasing my dinner only makes me want to devour it more?”
“Get off me, Rebel. I mean it.” I don’t. My voice is embarrassingly breathy. My blood is on fire. Having his hard body pressed up against mine, his heat scalding my skin through our layers of clothing, the sound of his voice in my ear coupled with the words he says, makes my knees shake.
“Come now, you and I both know that’s not what you really want. Just look at you, Josephine,” he purrs into my ear. “Even from this angle, I can see how your skin has turned that pretty pink whenever you get aroused. And your nipples—they’ve grown hard. I can see them poking through your shirt. So tell me, if I put my hand between your legs, would you be wet for me?”
His words never cease to stir the sex-hungry, wanton woman inside me. I crave to let him touch me, to taste him in return. Then reality sets in. The pounding pulse of music floods my ears and I remember where we are: In the middle of the club, surrounded by people.
Wrenching away from him, I swing around and level Rebel with a hard look. “Leave.”
His eyes flash. I can see the exact moment he reaches his decision, and I hold my ground as he steps closer, his body so close to mine we touch from chest to thigh. He stares off somewhere over my head as he speaks. “I’m leaving, Josephine, but only because that bouncer looks like he’s ready to draw blood. But before I go, I want you to know one thing. This isn’t over. Not even close. I want you at my place tonight, in my bed.”
I scoff, ready to tell him where he can stick his commands, when his eyes cut to mine, shutting me up instantly. “You will be there,” he tells me softly, but the undercurrent of warning is there. “If you go against my wishes, you won’t like the results. Are we clear?”
I swallow past the growing lump in my throat. Rebel is a pushy bastard. Unlike his brother, who is somewhat malleable, Rebel is a dictator. What he says goes. If I allow it, without a doubt, he won’t hesitate to run over me. I don’t want to listen to him, but it’s impossible not to. A part of me is desperate to please him, to reap the rewards of making a man like him happy. Because, despite all the reasons I should be running from him, there’s something deep inside Rebel that makes me want to stay. He’s not the hard, cruel man he projects. I’ve caught hints of a softer side, and I’m game to draw it out of hiding.
“Are. We. Clear?”
His hard, commanding voice shakes me from my thoughts. I nod once and watch as Rebel’s smile returns. It’s harsh and cruel and full of dark promises, but it floods me with excitement.
Lifting his hand, Rebel’s eyes search mine as he tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck and tugs my head back. My heart beats hard against my ribcage and when he lowers his mouth to mine, tracing my lips with his velvet tongue, I nearly combust. His lips hover over mine, his tongue licking me, taunting me with the promise of more. The kiss isn’t a kiss, but a taste of what’s to come.
He knows what he’s doing to me, and when he lifts his head, I can see the glimmer of wicked delight in his eyes. A sharp burst of pain explodes across my scalp when he gives my hair a hard pull. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Releasing me, Rebel smoothes his suit jacket with a single, sharp tug, and then he turns and walks away.
EIGHT
It’s strange being back here. The last time I visited Rebel’s apartment, I was under the assumption it belonged to Ransom, and I had no idea Rebel was his twin brother, or that I had been having sex with the wrong man.
Now, I find myself standing in front of the rust-colored steel slab door wondering what the hell I am thinking. I drove here straight after work, and all under the instruction of a man who both angers the hell out of me and lights every cell in my body on fire with a single look, touch, or spoken word. It doesn’t take much, and he has me wrapped around his little finger.
This should disturb me, but it does the opposite. Part of the draw is handing over the reins. For just a short while, I don’t have to be the one in control, I don’t have to make the decisions. I’ve been making them for too long, ever since my mom got sick and my dad checked out on reality. Sometimes, it’s nice to just forget the rest of the world exists. When I’m with Rebel, it’s like being out on the stage. I can let go, block out everything, and just live in the moment.
The thought makes me pause mid-step. The door stands just out of reach and if I lift my arm, I can almost touch it. One thought prevents me from doing it. If this is how I really feel about Rebel, then that means he does for me what dancing always has. He is my escape, my slice of peace and happiness, of sanity in a day that is always just a few degrees from spinning out of control.
No, that can’t be right. Rebel is a good fuck. He’s someone who spells out disaster even as he delivers eye-crossing orgasms. My attachment to him doesn’t run any deeper than that. It can’t. It just can’t. Panic begins to set in and I take a few steps back, distancing myself from the door and the person on the other side of it.
I should leave. Being here is only causing me more confusion. Whether or not Rebel commanded it, whether or not I have the compulsion to follow his rule, I don’t have any business being here now. I’m not in the right frame of mind to handle him, and if I go in there, I know any choices I make won’t be made logically. Rebel will have the upper hand and I will be doomed before I step a foot over the threshold.
My decision made, I turn around and head back the way I came. With every step, I have this unshakeable feeling that throbs in my chest telling me to move faster. I feel as though I am running from danger, and in a sense, I am.
Rather than wait for the elevator, I go for the stairs positioned at the far end of the long hallway. It’s in my sights when I hear the unmistakable click of a lock retracting. There are three other apartments on this floor, but the tingle of awareness on the back of my neck ensures that I don’t have to turn to look in order to know which one’s door has opened.
“Where are you running off to, pussycat?” Rebel’s smooth-as-ice voice carries down the hall, sending shivers up my spine.
My feet stop moving and I pivot around, glaring at his use of Kota’s pet name for me and the rest of the dancers even as I shamelessly eye the shit out of him.