“If my body was one solid sheet of muscle, I could do that.” I tense my muscles, try to force myself into a position my body is not meant to go. “However, I have a weakness for chocolate biscuits, lazy Sundays on a blanket in the park, scones with clotted cream, and chicken tikka with thick, white naan bread slathered in butter. Unfortunately, it lowers my middle center of gravity.”

    Rampage’s hands slide over my stomach, his touch firm, arousing my whole body with the promise of what those fingers could do if they drifted just a little lower. My mind goes hazy with desire and I can’t tell if I’m flying or if my hands and feet are still on the floor. I don’t care about jiu-jitsu transitions. I don’t care that Shilla is watching us with curious eyes or that we’re supposed to be doing a group drill. I don’t care if the whole class is watching us. All I care about is feeling connected to Rampage and wanting this moment to last forever.

    He lifts me right off the floor, as if I weigh nothing, and pulls me against his broad chest, my ass against his hips, feet barely touching the mat, his hands firm around my body. My stomach clenches. My heart pounds. He leans down until his mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel the heat of his breath.

    “I told you not to touch yourself last night,” he whispers.

    Oh God, how did he know? A flush of adrenaline tingles through my body, followed by a thrill of fear. “What are you going to do about it?”

    His hands tighten on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh. “I’ll show you tomorrow night. I want you to come back to the club.”

    His words awaken my darkest desires and a fierce longing to know just how far he will take me. But Amanda…the lawsuit… “I was only allowed one night. Is there another club?”

    “I’ll deal with Damien. I can’t go anywhere else.”

    Anticipation crackles in the air between us, and I feel like we’ve come to the edge of a cliff. Do we turn back, or do we jump? What if one more night isn’t enough?

    “We shouldn’t.”

    “No, we shouldn’t.” He strokes one finger over my hip, and my breath rushes from me in a wave of white-hot heat.

    “Friday,” I say softly.

    He spins me around, sweeps out my legs, and carries me to the ground. We land in reverse of the position we started in. Me on my back. Rampage straddling my hips in the dominant position.

    “Friday.” A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face. “Prepare to be punished.”

9

    Maybe I shouldn’t have told you

    RAMPAGE

    Friday night. Fight night. Except tonight the fight won’t be in a cage. And it damn well won’t be professional.

    “You fucking bastard.” I stalk into Damien’s office at Club Sin and slam the door.

    “The usual greeting is hello.” He leans back in his leather chair and folds his arms. Defensive. And well he should be. I wanted to have it out with him on Wednesday night, but he slipped out of the club when I was with Penny, and I’ve been stewing for the last two days.

    “You had no right giving Pen a membership to the club, and especially not to the private members’ area.” I am tempted to smash my fist through one of the freshly plastered walls, but I hold back, knowing the worst is still to come.

    “Last I heard, this was my club,” Damien says. “She went through the same process as everyone else, albeit a little bit faster. She has a need, and I think this is the place where she can fulfill it.”

    Maybe if I hadn’t been putting so much energy into keeping my desire at bay, I would have seen what he saw in Penny. Or maybe I did, and that’s why I pushed her away.

    “You wouldn’t have a club if not for your very silent silent partner,” I spit out. My thumb flicks over my ring, twisting it around my finger. I wish I could just get rid of the damned thing. Accept who I am and move on with my life.

    Damien winces ever so slightly at the low blow. His ego is still bruised after having to come to me for financial assistance when the club was in the red. I was happy to help out to keep the club afloat, and I’ve never once held it over his head, never interfered with the running of the club, never asked to be named on any documents. It was a gentlemen’s agreement, and where I’m from, that’s as good as any legal document—sometimes better.

    “We agreed you wouldn’t get involved with how I run the club.” Damien pushes himself up from the desk and walks over to the wet bar in the corner. He pours two shots of scotch and hands me a glass. If Penny wasn’t coming in tonight, I would be tempted to finish the bottle, but heavy drinking and play sessions don’t mix.

    “I wouldn’t have felt the need to get involved if you hadn’t brought in someone I know. She goes to my gym, hangs out with my friends, and she works for the landlord’s attorney, who is the fiancée of one of my close friends. I can’t think of a bigger conflict of interest.” I throw back the drink and let the bitter liquid slide over my tongue. I’m not partial to scotch. My family built an empire on bourbon, and I’m a bourbon man through and through.

    Damien sips his drink, savoring the taste. “Something clicked for her when she came in. How could I turn her away? She might never have had the courage to try somewhere else. She’s not here to feed a kink, Jack. There’s something else driving her.”

    Sometimes his psychology background is as much a hindrance as a help, and right now I’m putting it in the hindrance category. He’s as close to the truth as he’ll get without asking her directly, and I’m not about to tell. That’s Penny’s secret, and one I’m sure she didn’t want me to know.

    Just as I didn’t want her to know mine. How can a Southern gentleman, born and bred to respect and protect women, want to hurt them? That’s the question even Damien could not answer for me. That’s the question Avery screamed at me when she found out about my kink and left me; the question that was on the mind of every member of my family when she married my brother Beau the day she was supposed to marry me.