Another weekof Rev doing his darnedest to ignore me and avoid me, and I finally decide I’m done with it.
Mainly because he gave me a taste of what he can do, and it’s all I can think about. I wake up at night dreaming of what he did with his mouth. I wake upsoaked,aching, needy. And now, my vibrator barely cuts it. Barely gets me where I need to be, and when I get there, finally, it’s a drop in the bucket compared to the firehose blast Rev induced in me. A spark from a fire rising up into the night, compared to the grand finale of a Fourth of July fireworks display.
I need the fireworks.
I’m going to have to go to him, I decide.
So, one day, three and a half weeks after the day he showed up at my door and gave me the three most intense orgasms of my life, I pack a clean pair of panties, a toothbrush, deodorant, and a travel pack of the biggest condoms the drugstore sold—and I resolve to find my way to his room tonight, come heck or high water.
The shift is long, and crazy, but passes without event. I’m a solid member of the bartending team, now, and I’ve even worked one of the main bars, in tandem with Ingo. He and I have great work chemistry.
The end of the shift approaches, the club slowing and dying out. I finish my end-of-shift work, cash out, and go in search of Rev.
I find Kane, shutting off lights in Fisticuffs.
“Kane!” I call, crossing the space beneath the hanging cage.
He pauses, waits for me to cross the arena. “What up, babe?”
“I need to find Rev.”
He eyes me. “Club’s closed, babe. He’s down-level. Done for the day.”
“Can you, um…let me down there?”
“Not supposed to. Arrows only.”
I frown. “Arrows?”
He swings his huge arm out, showing me the inside. There’s a raised tattoo of a broken arrow—a thick black line severed in the middle, the halves off-kilter. A triangle at the front, and chevrons at the back. “Us. The security guys. We’re the Broken Arrows.”
“What does that mean? Like a club?”
He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Point is, I’m really not supposed to let you down there. He broke rules bringing you down there.”
“Please? I won’t tell anyone.”
He snorts. “They’d know.”
“Please?”
He growls a sigh. “How about this—I’ll bring you to the door, and I’ll tell him you’re there waiting for him. I’ll let him make that decision. That way it’s on him, not me.”
“Thank you, Kane.”
He grins—and good grief, is he handsome. That long blond hair, that scruffy beard. His brawny build, like he could take on Jacob’s angel in a wrestling match and maybe even win. He’s different than Rev, or Chance. He’s rough-hewn. A lot like the guys I grew up around, actually. I could see him in faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a battered old John Deere hat. But he’s got an edge to him, like all the guys have. The grin brightens his features, lights up his face, but there’s a darkness behind his eyes. An aura of danger to him, despite his easy good ol’ boy charm. There’s violence in him, like all the men, here.
I shake it off—I’m not here to ogle Kane, as hot as he is.
He winks at me…he knows I was looking at him, and that I liked what I saw. “Come on, sweetheart. This way.”
I follow him to a door in the depths of the service corridors, one I’d never find on my own again—it’s unmarked, nondescript. Could lead to a storage room as well as anywhere. The only difference is, there’s a keypad beside this one. Kane steps in front of the keypad, his massive frame blocking my view of the numbers he inputs. Yanks open the door.
“Wait here,” he says.
I wait.
For nearly five minutes, I wait, before the door opens again. Rev fills the opening, dressed in nothing but those very short drab green shorts. He stares at me for a moment with those impossible-to-read black eyes.
