15. Naomi
NAOMI
It’s been a week since the hostage situation, and things are starting to get back to normal.
The first few nights, I would wake up every hour expecting to hear glass break, or an angry voice, or the metallic click of a gun chambered behind my ear.
Wyatt would wake up too, his hand already reaching for me, his body tense and ready for war.
But he always just pulled me closer, shushed me, told me I was safe now and the only thing I needed to be afraid of was him making me come so hard I forgot my own name.
One morning we’re both in the kitchen at the same time, and I decide it’s time to shake things up a little bit.
Wyatt is standing by the island, cutting an apple into perfect slices wearing nothing but gym shorts.
His hair is still wet from the shower and sticking up at all the wrong angles.
He looks good enough to eat and I’m ready to take a bite of him.
I clear my throat, heart slamming against my ribs. “Hey.”
He looks up. “Hey, fever.” The pet name is so casual it could break me.
I lean against the opposite counter, palms slick with sweat. “So, I got the mail this morning,” I say, trying to sound normal.
“Yeah?” He picks up another apple wedge and bites, crunching it to death.
I open my purse, fishing around for the envelope. “I have something for you. For us, actually.”
Wyatt narrows his eyes, suspicious. “What, don’t tell me you got a jury duty summons? You can’t be trusted with that much power.”
I slide the envelope across the island with two fingers. “Just open it.”
He wipes his hands on a dish towel, then tears the envelope open with a single swipe of his thumb. Inside are two cards, heavy as credit cards, embossed in black and silver. He stares at them, unblinking, until the apple in his hand starts to leak juice down his arm.
“You’re shitting me.” He picks one up. The Sterling Rope logo catches the light, shining like sin. “Is this?—?”
“Our new membership,” I say, and my voice only trembles a little.
His jaw drops. “You signed us up for the club?” The words come out totally shocked.
“Technically, you’re supposed to go through an interview, but Roman said he trusts both of us. Plus he said he’d already offered you a membership but you turned him down.” I try to make it sound breezy, but I’m watching his face for any sign he isn’t on board.
Wyatt is quiet for a long time. I can see the gears turning, the way he analyzes everything. “You really want to do this?” he asks, voice soft.
I cross my arms, trying to hide how much I’m shaking. “I’ve been thinking about it since we started dating. I’m curious and I want to explore with you.”
He’s silent for another few beats, then does something I don’t expect when he grins like the cat that ate the canary. It’s a slow, wolfish grin that makes me squeeze my thighs together.
“You really want to play, fever?” His voice is a low growl that goes right to my ovaries and causes them to explode.
I match his stare, not backing down. “More than anything.”
He comes around the island in two strides, crowding me against the cabinets, the heat rolling off his body warms me from the inside out. He slides one massive hand up my spine and into my hair, gripping just tight enough to send a warning shot through my system
Wyatt studies me for a long moment, his green eyes dark and wild. Then he leans in, pressing his mouth to my ear. “I can’t wait to explore with you.” He licks his lips, slow and deliberate. “Later tonight, I’ll show you just how much.”
I let myself grin, feeling lighter than I have in days. “Are we supposed to bring our own handcuffs, or does the club provide them?”
He barks a laugh, the sound filling the whole house. “They’ll supply everything we need..”
The tension that’s been wrapped around my heart for a week starts to loosen. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe the promise of something new, but for the first time since Stellan crashed into our lives, I feel normal.
“Do we need safe words?” He asks pulling me into his arms.
“Heck no.” I shake my head and run my hand up his warm, muscular chest. “I know I’m safe with you no matter what.”
By the time Wyatt heads into the shower, my hands are shaking so bad I nearly drop my makeup brush.
I spend forever on my hair, deciding between up and down, straight or curly, before finally letting it fall in wild waves around my shoulders.
I pick a dress that’s tight enough to get his attention but not so tight I can’t breathe.
The green one, the one that makes my eyes look like I’m telling the truth even when I’m lying through my teeth.
I pace the bedroom, trying to remember to breathe. God. I want tonight to be perfect.
Wyatt emerges from the shower, steam billowing behind him, a towel wrapped snugly around his waist. His hair is slicked back, droplets of water tracing paths down his toned skin.
He notices my gaze lingering on him and a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.
"You're drooling, Bardot," he teases, his voice a mix of amusement and warmth.
"Am not," I retort as my mind is turns to mush, betraying my words.
He walks over, drops the towel, and starts getting dressed right in front of me. He’s so freaking hot, I can’t look away. Every scar, every hard line of muscle, is an open invitation and I’m tempted to jump him.
We finish getting ready in a comfortable silence, the kind that hums with anticipation and shared understanding. Both of us are on the brink of exploring something uncharted together, and the air is thick with the promise of our shared desire.
Wyatt, ever the gentleman, holds the door open for me as we step into the warm evening.
He carefully double locks it behind us, the metallic clink echoing softly in the quiet night.
His eyes scan the quiet street with a protective gaze before he guides me toward the SUV.
His hand rests reassuringly on the small of my back causing my blood to heat in my veins.
The city lights flicker like distant stars, and though the club is just a few miles away, it feels as though we're crossing into another realm entirely.
We park in the alley, next to a Porsche that probably costs more than my mother’s home. Wyatt comes around to open my door, and the moment my heels hit the pavement, he kisses me, hard and fast, like he can’t wait another second.
“Ready?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” I say, but my knees are jelly.
We walk up to the entrance. The door is steel, painted black, and there’s no sign, just a plate to scan your membership card or smart watch. Wyatt holds his watch up to it and the door clicks.
We walk inside and the familiar scent of the club hits me in the face.
I always thought it smells like leather and expensive cologne, with a faint undertone of candle wax and something sweet.
The lights are low, the music a deep pulse underfoot, and everyone in the lobby looks like they’re ready for an interesting night ahead.
Raven is working the desk tonight, dressed in a black sheath that says “dangerous” in about seventeen languages. She sees us and smiles, sharp as a scalpel.
“Hey, guys,” she purrs. “So good to see you on the other side of the velvet rope.”
Wyatt nods and asks. “How have things been going since they installed the new security system?” He has a hard time turning off his “bodyguard mode.”
She glances at him. “Much better. Thanks for helping Roman out with that unpleasant mess,” then the stunning woman turns to me. “You look radiant, Naomi.”
I blush, not sure if it’s the lighting or the compliment. “Thanks so much.”
She waves us through. “Enjoy yourselves.”
We take the elevator up, and the whole time, Wyatt’s hand never leaves my body. He holds me close, his thumb tracing slow circles on my hip, anchoring me in place.
The third-floor corridor stretches out, its walls lined with heavy, soundproof doors. At the corridor's end, a door stands slightly ajar with a flickering glow of candlelight spilling out and casting an inviting glow on the plush, deep red carpet that muffles footsteps.
Wyatt, with a gentle motion, opens the door for me and we step inside. The room inside is a seductive tapestry of black and red, accented with soft strokes of gold that shimmer in the candlelight.
A sumptuous couch lines one wall, while a king-sized bed dominates most of the room.
On the wall, a rack of meticulously arranged toys catches my eye, causing my heart to stutter with anticipation.
Silk ties hang next to leather cuffs, metal handcuffs, and blindfolds.
Everything you need for a night of debauchery.
My pulse quickens in tandem with the atmosphere's charged energy. Wyatt closes the door behind us and the soft thud is followed closely by a decisive click of the lock.
He turns to face me, and something in him shifts. The protector, the bodyguard, is still there, but he’s let the leash go slack. He’s looking at me like I’m his next meal.
He steps forward and places his hands gently on my shoulders before brushing my hair back. “I love you, fever.”
The way he says it turns me to mush. “Show me how much.” I breathe.
“Fuck.” He takes my chin in his hand and tips my face up. “I’m like a kid in a candy shop. I don’t even fucking know where to start.”
He stalks around the room while I look around, stopping to test the strength of the restraint points built into the bed frame. He slowly catalogues everything like he’s trying to decide if the space is worthy of me.
I walk over to the bed, trace my hand along the cool, slippery red silk. “Do you have any idea what we’re supposed to do now?”
I sit back on the bed and he kneels in front of me, resting his hands on my knees. “Enjoy ourselves.” His grip is solid, unshakeable. “We can figure out what we like and go with that.”
He slides his hands slowly up my inner thighs and I forget we’re in a sex club.