Page 69 of Seven Year Itch
“What else is your husband into?” I cut the girl off midsentence.
Her brown eyes widen. “Are you into men? Do you want me to see if he—”
“No... just... what’s his thing? What do you think they’re doing up there?”
She smiles knowingly. “If I’d have to guess, he’s got her strapped up to a St. Andrew’s cross with duct tape on her mouth. He loves the red mark tape leaves on a face when we’re done.”
My stool scrapes loudly on the floor when I stand up, drawing the eyes of several patrons around us. “She’s not ready for that.”
The woman chuckles. “She seemed to go up there pretty willingly, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, but if she can’t talk, how will she use a safe word?”
She shrugs and slides her hands up my chest to pull me toward her. “I don’t have a safe word.” She peers up at me like that’s going to be my go signal to take her upstairs, but it has the opposite effect.
Immediate fear courses through my body. If he’s used to a woman without a safe word, how will I know he’ll honor one from Dakota? Dakota knows to advocate for one, right? Fuck.
I grab the gal’s hands and remove them from my chest. “I have to go.”
She sees me bolting for the steps, and I hear her gasp. “I’ll come with you!”
“Don’t bother,” I call back as I take the steps two at a time, flying to the upper level. I hang a right to go toward the bondage hallway where I’ve seen the St. Andrew’s crosses before. Dakota never said she was into bondage. And I thought she didn’t like BDSM. Why did she agree to come up here with this guy?
My heart rate spikes when I see them talking quietly in the hallway. Still both fully dressed, thank fuck. She’s leaned up against the wall, and the man’s hand is splayed out on the wall by her face, his other sliding across her cheek as he leans in to—
“We gotta go, Ace,” I state loudly, stopping him just before their lips connect.
Dakota turns half-hooded eyes to me, and my jaw clenches at the aroused look on her face. The sense of betrayal that slicesthrough me makes no fucking sense, and I want to scream at her for some unknown fucking reason.
“We’re leaving.” I grab her wrist and pull her away from this dude, my chest vibrating with barely concealed rage.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s make sure she wants to leave.” The man moves closer to Dakota and touches her arm, which makes me see red.
I step up into him and bump my chest against his. “You have a death wish, buddy?”
He lifts his hands up in surrender, his eyes dilated with desire as he stares up at me. “No death wish. Just wanting to make sure the girl can advocate for herself. What is it you want, big boy? I’m open to ideas.”
“She can talk just fine,” I grind out, stopping myself from adding the fact that she usually never shuts up. I turn to look at Dakota. “You ready to go?”
She frowns at me, and I see a million unanswered questions cross her face before she does the unexpected and nods. “Okay, we can go.”
I slide a cocky grin to the suit and lace my fingers through Dakota’s, pulling her behind me at a pace she can barely keep up with in her heels. Meanwhile I can barely keep up with the thoughts racing in my head. Thoughts I am really fucking confused about.
We stop at the coat check, and I cover her up, exhaling slowly as I attempt to lower my blood pressure. We make our way out into the cold darkness toward my truck, and I open the passenger door, waiting for her to jump in.
“Mind telling me what that was all about?” she asks, crossing her arms and looking up at me, refusing to get in the truck.
“What do you mean?” I roll my eyes and gesture to the vehicle. “Can you just get in the truck?.”
“No, I want to know what is going on.” She pushes her hair out of her face and pins me with a defiant look that is much more on-brand for the Dakota I know. “Was there something wrong withthat guy that you ripped me out of there like that? He didn’t ask me to shit on him, which felt like a step up from last time.”
“Nice to know you have such high standards,” I scoff.
“Hey!” She pokes me in the chest. “What do you know that I don’t?”
My lips thin as I shake my head. “I don’t trust him.”
“Why? Did his wife say something bad about him?” She searches my face with anxiety before glancing back at the club.
