Page 55 of Pay the Price

I was starting to feel like a subversive Cinderella. Instead of a fairy godmother, I had Jace Kane, my carriage had been replaced with a limo, and the ball was a sex club in the city.

Oh, and instead of one prince I had three, except they weren’t princes.

They were beasts.

And I had to say, they made it look good — and smell good: the car was filled with the scent of expensive cologne and raw maleness, like some kind of drug that made my panties wet.

“We can’t go to the Velvet Rope in a regular car,” Otis said, filling my glass with more champagne.

I was already tipsy, but I wasn’t complaining. I had a feeling tipsy might be a good thing considering the night I had in store.

“I wouldn’t call the Corvette a regular car,” I said. “And Benji is a top-of-the-line BMW, so also not a regular car.”

“The Velvet Rope is on another level,” Otis said. “We definitely needed the limo.”

“Will we be able to get in?” I didn’t know how sex clubs worked, but I assumed you couldn’t just walk in off the street. Was there a password? A secret handshake?

“We’ll get in,” Jace said, his gaze on the window as the city flashed by on the other side.

Wolf’s hand slid up my thigh. “I hope we’ll get a peek under that dress, sunshine. My mouth is practically watering.”

I slapped at his hand. I was already wet and desperate for them, but I wasn’t drunk enough yet to set aside the massive baggage that was still between us.

He pulled his hand away and shrugged with a grin. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

My thigh burned where his hand had been, like I’d been seared with a cattle brand.

They’d been practically drooling when I came down the stairs, but they hadn’t been the only ones.

Wolf’s midnight blue sleeveless silk shirt might have looked cheap on anyone else, but he made it look simple and elegant, a perfect compliment to his black ankle-length trousers and stylish loafers. He’d brought a suit coat, but I hoped he wouldn’t wear it. There was something incredibly sexy about his ink on display with the obviously expensive menswear.

Jace had chosen black slacks that barely restrained the package between his thighs — he’d left his chest bare, a delicious expanse of bare skin under his fitted black blazer — while Otis had opted for snug navy trousers and a simple white T-shirt (it was clearly expensive, and I was starting to wonder if the Beasts had more money and better taste than they liked to let on) with dress shoes and no socks.

They oozed effortless sex appeal, and I felt more than a little lucky to be out with all three of them, even with all the shit that was still between us.

The city was all lit up, lights reflecting off the limo’s glass, Saturday night in full swing. It had been a long time since I’d been out in the city, and excitement fluttered in my stomach. I had no idea what to expect at the Velvet Rope, and I was surprised to find I was more excited than nervous.

The limo finally slowed to a stop in front of a beautiful pre-war building in the West Village. I knew the type because they littered my issues ofArchitectural Digest— buildings that had once been split into apartments and had since been purchased by the wealthy, who renovated them into large private residences.

“This is it,” Jace said, reaching for the car door. “Remember, be ready to run.”

He opened the door before I had time to analyze his final words.

Be ready to run?

Great. Just great.

Goodbye, excitement. Hello, nervousness.

He surprised me by extending his hand to help me out of the car. I hesitated, then took it and crawled out of the limo.

“Jesus fuck,” Wolf said when I flashed him my ass thanks to the impossibly short dress.

“Sorry,” I said, looking over my shoulder.

“Nothing in the world to apologize for, sunshine.” His words were pleasant but his voice was tight. “You just made my night.”

“You just made my year,” Otis said.

---