Training Sasha (Club Zodiac Book 1) Read online

  Chapter 21

  It was dark out the next time Sasha woke up. A soft glow of light came from the partially open bathroom door. She inhaled slowly and closed her eyes again. It was cruel that every time she woke up the world was still spinning.

  Voices coming from the living room caught her attention. That must have been what woke her. She couldn’t identify who was out there, but the hushed tones sounded angry. Probably Rowen. If Rayne was still in her apartment, Rowen would have eventually shown up.

  The last person Sasha wanted to face today was her brother. She didn’t need his disapproval or his condemnation. She had her own.

  Rayne had been a godsend. She had kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and held Sasha’s head against her shoulder, rocking her gently as she cried a river. She hadn’t pried her for information or judged her in any way.

  If Rayne hadn’t been there, Sasha had no idea how she would have managed. She supposed she would have lain in bed until she got dehydrated.

  The voices were getting closer.

  Shit.

  If Rowen thought now was a good time to lecture her—

  The door opened, and Sasha was shocked to find not Rowen but Lincoln standing in the frame, larger than life, his expression filled with so much concern she thought he might have actually been crying.

  She rolled onto her side, putting her back to him. “I’m not in the mood to submit to you tonight, Lincoln. Go find someone else to confuse.”

  He came in anyway, of course. After all, the man might have sent her about ten thousand mixed signals, but he’d done so without ever lowering his shield of dominance.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight making her rock toward him a few inches.

  Shit.

  “Sasha…”

  She bit her lip, forcing herself not to make a sound while a new wave of tears fell. On second thought, maybe dehydration would have been preferable because now she wouldn’t be forced to show any more emotion.

  He didn’t touch her, which was good. If he had so much as set a hand on her thigh, even with the comforter protecting her skin from him, she still might have swung around and punched him.

  “There’s no excuse for what I did this morning. Hell, there’s no excuse for anything I did for the last two days or even the last week. Or fuck, let’s go back five years. I’ve been an ass for five years.”

  She stiffened. What the hell?

  “I spent the day with Rowen and Carter in my face.”

  Good. I hope you mean literally. Like their fists in your face. Asshole.

  “Apparently I’ve had my head so far up my ass—Carter’s eloquent words—that I haven’t had a sane thought since I bought the club.”

  She didn’t move. She didn’t dare breathe.

  “According to Rowen, I need to enroll in some of our beginner seminars so I can learn some negotiation skills.”

  Was he chuckling?

  A rustling sound accompanied by two soft thuds told her he’d kicked off his shoes. And then he had the audacity to climb onto the bed next to her and prop himself against the headboard, making himself at home.

  “I’m pretty sure both of them are right. I’ve been making stupid choices for years, ever since I walked into my own club one evening and saw the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen laughing nervously with my new employees across the room.”

  Sasha fisted the sheets under her chin, grateful he couldn’t see her face and that she had curled into herself. Her hair fell over her cheek to block her completely.

  “She was wearing these obscenely short white shorts and a silky yellow shirt with tiny spaghetti straps. She took my breath away with her innocence and purity.”

  Sasha continued to lie perfectly still. Stunned. He knows what I was wearing the day we met? He was going to ruin her perfectly good mad. She could already tell. And that pissed her off.

  “I was a stupid fool that day, and somehow fell into the role of jackass that I wore like a cloak from then on. I hurt her. Badly. But I was so damn self-righteous that I convinced myself over and over again that I wasn’t good enough for her anyway.”

  Sasha sucked in a breath. Not good enough for me?

  He kept going. “I had a thick head. I owned a BDSM club, and I had dark tendencies when it came to the lifestyle. I knew she did not and never would. So I shunned her every chance I got, pretending she was a nuisance. My partner’s kid sister.

  “She didn’t go away, however. She didn’t find a nice vanilla guy and get married. She kept getting prettier and sexier as she turned into an amazing woman. I had to keep her at arm’s length to avoid the possibility that I might fall for her.”

  Sasha had no idea what he was referring to, and she hoped he would eventually spit it out. Nevertheless, his words kept her tears falling silently onto the pillow.

  “Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with a crush. That sweet, sexy woman was into me. She was shy about it. She didn’t flaunt it or approach me, but she didn’t hide it well either.”

  “I had hoped she would move on so I could too. It was a catch-22. On the one hand, I knew I would be happy for her if she found a nice man and settled down in a vanilla life with a white picket fence and everything he could offer her that I knew I couldn’t. On the other hand, I knew it would hurt. I would never recover from her. I would never find another woman like her.”

  More tears. Sasha hiccupped. She leaned farther into the pillow.

  Lincoln slid down the bed, rolled onto his side behind her, and leaned on one elbow. He set a hand on her hip. His next words were closer to her ear. Gentle. “Somewhere along the way I knew she was mine. I knew it, and still I denied it. I convinced myself I was wrong for her. It wasn’t fair to her. And it wasn’t fair to me.”

  She inhaled sharply. Damn him.

  His hand smoothed down to her thigh and then back to rest on her hip again. “I didn’t have the right to decide what she could and couldn’t handle like some holier-than-thou, all-knowing God. I treated her like shit in an effort to get her to walk away from BDSM. To get her to walk away from me. It was selfish and unforgivable.

  “I can’t change who I am, but she deserves to make her own choices instead of me dictating them for her and acting like she isn’t smart enough to think for herself. She deserves my honesty about who I am deep inside. She deserves to have all the information so she can make an informed decision. She deserves the world.”

  Sasha held her lip so hard between her teeth she thought she might draw blood. She wanted to roll over and face him, but she knew if she did, the ugly cry would turn into a fountain. And besides, he still hadn’t told her what the mysterious secret was.

  His hand slid up her arm to cup her shoulder, which was tucked deep under the covers like the rest of her. He didn’t try to roll her his direction. Instead, he held her in place, encouraging her silently not to face him.

  “So, here’s the deal. No matter how you slice it, I still hurt you. Cruelly.” He’d switched to speaking to her in first person. Interesting. The strange long story was over. “I don’t deserve to even ask for your forgiveness after the way I treated you, not just today and yesterday but for years. However, I’m also clear now that forgiveness is your choice. Yours to give. I don’t get to dictate who you should fall in love with, and I don’t get to decide if you should forgive me for being a jackass.”

  She winced. Apparently he did get to decide that she was in love. She smiled inside, incongruent with her perfectly good sad that accompanied her totally legitimate mad.

  “I don’t want you to say anything. Not today. Not for a few days. I want you to spend some time thinking about what I’ve said and how you feel. I took things from you in the last two days that I had no right to claim. Inexcusable. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me and want me to bow out and leave you alone.

  “I also want you to know this had nothing to do with dominance and submission. My feelings for you are not related to the lifestyle at all. I don’t care
if you never want to practice any form of BDSM, decide to become a flashy, boisterous brat, or pick up your own whip and switch sides. It changes nothing. Those things are just details. We can always work through them later.

  “What I want is to invite you to come to the club Wednesday night as my guest. I’d like the opportunity to show you who I am and what I do at Zodiac. I don’t want you to make any definitive decisions between now and then. I won’t contact you. You need time to think and breathe after what I put you through this weekend. It was intense.”

  He had that right. She’d never been so tired in her life. She might sleep clear until Wednesday.

  He squeezed her shoulder when she started to roll backward, stopping her. “Don’t, baby.” His words were soft. “I don’t deserve to meet your gaze right now, and to be honest, I don’t think I could look into your eyes without crumbling. I’m feeling cowardly.

  “And don’t say anything either. I don’t need an answer. Just think about it. If you want to take a chance on me, come on Wednesday. Carter will check you in. If not, I’ll understand. I might not like it… Okay, I might actually freak out, but I’ll learn to live with it.” A slight hint of humor ended his words.

  He leaned in, kissed the hair curtaining her forehead, and then his weight left the bed, and he was gone.

  Sasha couldn’t move for a long time. Rayne didn’t come in either. She was grateful for the solitude.

  Chapter 22

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Lincoln was a nervous wreck by Wednesday night. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. His hands were shaking and sweaty.

  He’d been pacing his office so long the carpet was worn.

  Sasha had taken his words to heart. Not only did she not try to contact him, but she hadn’t spoken to anyone. Not Rowen or Carter or even Rayne. Lincoln got no information from any of his friends to tell him if she was leaning one way or the other.

  He assumed it was possible some of them were lying, especially Rayne, but he couldn’t do anything about it, so he stopped badgering them twenty-four hours ago.

  His well-thought-out plan that had seemed brilliant Sunday afternoon before he spoke to her no longer seemed viable. How was he supposed to demonstrate his sadism in front of her if he couldn’t steady his hands or concentrate on his submissive?

  It wasn’t safe. No one should dominate another person in this state of mind. He’d made a lot of poor choices over the years, but he wouldn’t make this mistake tonight.

  He hadn’t canceled on anyone who’d scheduled a session with him for tonight yet—mostly because it hadn’t occurred to him how totally incapable he was until a few minutes ago. He’d have to wait until they arrived or find another Dom to fill his slots.

  Jesus.

  He stopped pacing and turned to look out the window. Would she show up?

  What if she didn’t?

  He’d told her he would respect her decision, but he wasn’t at all sure he could go through with it. If she didn’t come to the club tonight, he would undoubtedly head to her apartment and beg her to give him a chance.

  He closed his eyes.

  The door to his office opened. He waited for whoever it was to speak up. It was early, so it had to be either Rowen or Carter there to tear him another new asshole. He wasn’t eager to find out who’d come to rip into him this time.

  No one spoke. Had he imagined the sound of the door?

  Nope. Because then the door closed with a soft snick.

  He took a breath, bracing himself to face the latest firing squad, and then he turned around.

  His breath hitched. Damn. It was Sasha. Right there. In the flesh. In his office. Wearing a sexy pale pink sundress and silver sandals.

  His heart leaped. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to spook her by running across the room, slamming her into the door, and kissing the sense out of her, but that was his first inclination.

  She looked nervous. Hesitant. She tucked an unruly curl behind her ear and cleared her throat. “I heard you had a thing for innocent-looking girls. Is that a fetish?” Her voice was teasing.

  Thank you, God.

  A smile split his face. “If we want it to be.” Control yourself. Stay calm. Let her determine the course.

  She stepped farther into the room, her fingers playing with the material of her dress at her sides.

  Holy shit. His heart stopped. She wasn’t wearing one of her regular sweet, innocent dresses. Not this time. This dress would make every man in the building turn to stare with their throats dry and their balls pulled up tight.

  His eyes went wide as he let his gaze roam down her body, taking it all in. The dress—if you could call it that—was indeed pale pink. But that’s about the only thing it had in common with her regular choices in clothing. It was short, almost too short—did it even cover her ass?

  He swallowed a lump in his throat. He was afraid to find out.

  The spaghetti straps were so thin he wasn’t sure they would hold up the bodice, which was more of a corset. It made her breasts look amazing, lifting them so much she had the hint of cleavage. The skirt was loose… and again, so damn short. If she spun, it would flare out and everyone around would see… what? He was dying to know and he prayed he got that opportunity at some point.

  But holy mother… she was not wearing dainty silver flat sandals either. She was wearing dainty silver heels that made her legs go on and on forever and gave her shapely calves enough definition to cause him to drool.

  Realizing he’d done nothing but stare at her hot body, he jerked his gaze to her face to find her biting her lip. Should he compliment her? “Baby… you look amazing.”

  A slow smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

  He took a few steps forward. “Anything you wear looks amazing. And nothing.” He hoped he sounded light and joking as opposed to suggestive.

  She worried her bottom lip again and looked away, blushing. Yeah, this was his Sasha. His chest tightened just looking at her, and he knew he would take her any way he could get her. He would move heaven and earth for her.

  He would even give up sadism and sell the club for her. That’s how much he loved her.

  He had intended to say nothing and let her watch him in action. But that was before. Before he realized he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to play tonight. Before she walked into his office wearing that damn outfit that made his cock hard and tied his tongue in knots.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted her to leave his office wearing it. In fact, he was concerned about who had seen her between her apartment and his office. Irrational jealousy reared its head. She would be pissed if he dictated what she could and couldn’t wear in public.

  Suddenly he knew what he needed to do, so he started talking. “I had a mentor,” he began, taking a deep breath.

  She startled. “You did?”

  “Yeah. Master Christopher. I’ve never told anyone.”

  “Okay.” She worried her fingers together. It was cute as fuck, and he had to glance away to keep his train of thought.

  “I met him at an underground club when I was seventeen.”

  She smiled. “I met a man in a club when I was seventeen too. What a coincidence.”

  Lincoln smirked. “Don’t remind me.” He watched her drop her hands and wipe them on the sides of her skirt. She was nervous. And again, she pulled at his heartstrings. How and why had he denied himself this woman for so many years? “Master Christopher was a sadist.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” Matter of fact. Huh.

  “I found his work fascinating. He was brilliant. Watching him was like a form of art.”

  She held his gaze, giving nothing away.

  “I was intrigued, and I soaked up everything he had to offer. He thought I had a gift, so he shared it with me.” She still watched him, so he continued. “Apparently I was good at what I did. People booked time with me. Masochists, I mean.”

  She lifted a brow, her head tipping slightly.


  “A masochist is someone who enjoys receiving pain.”

  “Yeah, I know what a masochist is. They booked time with you?”

  He nodded. “Yes. They trusted me. I had a reputation. I still do.”

  She licked her lips, thinking. “So, you’re saying people schedule a session with you? People who like to be flogged or whatever?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Go on.”

  Okay? That’s it? He almost laughed. “You’re making this too easy.” He gave her a slight grin.

  “What? Talking? You have trouble telling people about your past or something? I’m not sure I follow, Lincoln. I’m waiting for some big secret. That’s not the end, is it? What did Master Christopher do?”

  Lincoln chuckled. “That part’s not important. Although I will tell you something I’ve never told a soul.”

  “What?”

  “He gave me the money to buy Club Zodiac.”

  “Really? Your mentor?”

  “Yes. He’d saved it all his life but never got around to following his dream. He wanted me to do it.”

  “That’s so generous. I can’t wait to meet him someday.”

  Lincoln sighed. “He died two years ago, unfortunately.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He took a second and then continued, “Anyway, without him, we wouldn’t be standing here.”

  “So, that’s it? The big secret you’re stammering to get out is that you had a mentor and he gave you money? I don’t think that’s earth-shattering, Lincoln.”

  He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Okay. You said that repeatedly the other night. What’d I do now?”

  Lincoln rushed forward until he was right in her space.

  She didn’t retreat.

  “You… You’re… Damn, Sasha. You’re so fucking amazing. I kept that secret from you for years, worrying about what you’d think of me if you knew. And you’re only interested in my mentor.” He laughed. “I’m a fool.”

  “What secret? Lincoln, I’m not following you.” She reached behind her back and grasped her hands together.