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 an answer 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 murmured in between 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. It was now 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.”