• • •

“Reece?” she asks, drawing me back to the moment.

Fuck.

I want to ask her a million questions. How did she find me? Why is she here? What does she want?

But I’m unable to stop myself from studying her. Her skin looks so soft. I wonder if it’s still lightly perfumed with lavender and honey like I remember. I want to lean close and taste her, but I don’t. Control is everything to me now; it’s all I have. Still, I continue to study her, amazed at the beautiful woman she’s become. Long dark hair flows over her shoulders, leading to a trim waist and the gentle curve of well-rounded hips. Dressed in skinny jeans and tall boots, her shapely legs seem to go on forever.

She crosses her arms under her ample breasts, bringing attention to the fact she has a glorious rack. Dear God. Are those Ds?

“You’ve grown up,” I say, my voice strained as I fight to recover from the effect she has on me.

Noting how my eyes had briefly wandered from hers, Macey smirks. “So have you. Unless my memories are off. How tall are you these days?”

“Six-four.”

“God, it’s been a long time.” She smiles at me, but there’s a faraway sadness in her eyes I don’t like.

“Six years,” I say, even though it wasn’t a question. “Does Hale know you’re here?” It’s funny how my internal thoughts immediately go to him, almost like my subconscious is trying to remind me why I can’t do this. Besides, something tells me her older brother wouldn’t be too happy about her destination tonight. I don’t even know how she found me.

Shaking her head, Macey drops her chin toward her chest. The girl I remember was confident, carefree, and sassy. This version of her is more subdued and serious, totally unlike her.

Using two fingers, I lift her chin to meet my gaze. “Who’s done this to you?”

“What?” she asks, flushed and slightly breathless.

That reaction is to be expected, given our surroundings. Crave is Chicago’s hottest BDSM club. But her reaction to the club isn’t what I’m referring to at all.

“Who’s dimmed that light in your eyes?”

She looks away, not wanting to answer.

That’s the thing about Macey. Even from the time she was a skinny little girl, those huge blue eyes were like two pools of light that swallowed you whole, sucked you into her orbit, and made you feel alive and slightly out of control.

I can’t resist reaching out to touch her again, this time tucking a stray lock of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. The urge to take her in my arms and hold her tightly flares inside me. And to say I’m not the cuddling type would be a huge fucking understatement. But this is Macey, and I really don’t like seeing her like this. I want to comfort her. It’s that same overwhelming feeling that came over me when her parents died. I just want to fix it.

She inhales sharply at the contact, but her gaze stays on mine. “How about a drink first?”

I nod, placing my hand against her lower back to lead the way toward the bar. After helping Macey onto the only open bar stool, I stand beside her and gesture to the bartender. Macey’s trying to play it cool, but her eyes widen as her gaze darts around the club.

The first floor is relatively tame compared with what she’d find upstairs. Slate-gray velvet couches are interspersed with high-top tables and leather bar stools, places meant for mingling in small groups or more intimate one-on-one connections. The people mingling tonight are a mix of businessmen looking to cut loose, bored housewives eager for an adventure, and sex kittens wanting to experience the real-life alpha males they’ve only read about in popular fiction.

Muted soft grays and deep hues of blue dot the space. Soft fabrics and low lighting are meant to invite you in and get you comfortable. The deep notes of club music thumping in the background create an underlying current of raw sexual energy crackling in the air. I can feel it, and I know Macey can too.

The open floor plan is both sophisticated and sinful, a balance I’ve worked hard to achieve with the help of a designer, and believe me, this place makes good on its promise for hot, discreet sex.

It’s New Year’s Eve in the city, and Crave, as the hottest place to be, is packed tonight. It doesn’t skimp on sleek, elegant décor, pricey liquor, or beautiful people. I should feel proud and elated, but instead my head is still spinning from the scene I just witnessed upstairs. I helped Hale with his new submissive, Brielle, just moments ago. She presented her tight little ass to us at his command, and even with her on display, all I could think about was getting back to Macey. I couldn’t believe when my security staff called me over, pointing to the woman near the door who asked to speak with me. But before I could gather my courage to approach her, Hale called my cell, asking for backup with his scene. Of course I went. He’s my best friend.

All I could think about was Macey during the scene, how Hale’s fucking little sister was out there waiting for me. If anyone tried to pick her up or take her to a private room, so help me, I would rip his arms off and beat him with them. And since that would be bad for business, I was hoping it didn’t come to that.

Hale would freak out if he knew she was here, so I kept things brief and stayed quiet about that fact, playing the part he expected of me before slipping out of the room to return to her. And now that I’m standing with her, I’m speechless once again.

The bar is packed, given that it’s New Year’s Eve, and we watch the bartender filling drink orders and slinging bottles for a couple of quiet moments.

“Why don’t you start out by telling me exactly why you came here tonight?” I ask. Last I knew, Macey had been living in Miami.

“Let me give you a hint.” She leans closer, letting the weight of her generous breasts brush against my chest as she bends close to my ear. “My personal life went to shit, and now I need hot, sweaty sex. I need forget-my-own-name sex.”

The sweet little Macey I remember has left the building, folks.

My cock hardens instantly.

I can’t even blame it on teenage hormones like I could back then. My attraction to her has always been a powerful, dangerous thing, hell-bent on getting me in trouble. I’ve had way too many fantasies of pounding into her tight, hot cunt. I’ve jacked off countless times to that image, as wrong as it is.

Just then, the bartender saunters up and asks what we’re craving, a little tagline my publicity company came up with. All the bar staff and waitresses have been trained to use it.

Having not spent any time with the adult version of Macey, I have no idea what she drinks, so I’m surprised when she orders herself a whiskey, neat. Something in me likes that she’s not a fruity-drink type of girl. Her personality is straightforward and intoxicating, and her drink choice reflects it. It’s a hell of a woman who drinks whiskey straight up, or maybe she’s more thrown off at seeing me than she’s letting on. I sure as fuck am.

Once we’ve settled in with our drinks, her gaze lands on me again. “So it’s true then.”

“What’s true?” I ask before swallowing a mouthful of Scotch.

“That you own this place.”

I give her a nod. No sense in denying it. Besides, I’m proud of what I’ve built for myself. I worked hard to raise enough capital, made some smart investments, and have worked my ass off to make this place a reality.

She bites her lip as she toys with her glass, then brings her gaze back to me. “When I got into town tonight and Cameron wasn’t answering his phone, I Googled you.”

Watching her expression, I’m trying to read her, knowing she’s thinking I never had a penchant for kink when she and I were together. But I’m not explaining the reason why to her. Not now, and hopefully not ever. My way of life has worked for me, and I don’t want to change it. I keep my heart on lockdown, a willing submissive on speed dial, and my dick wet. It’s all good.