Feels Like Falling (Dangerous Love Book 5) Page 6

  They’re roleplaying. This is consensual. This man is not raping her. Look at her face. You’ll see that it’s not…

  “Peyton, what’s wrong? You’re so pale. I think we should leave and…”

  Peyton didn’t stick around to hear Robin finish. She bolted out of the room and into the hallway. Like out of a horror movie, the hallway seemed to expand before her. She found herself retreating to some safe place in her mind as she sprinted down the corridor and eventually out Eden’s front doors. The sudden wintery gust of wind against her face and bare shoulders jolted her awake and away from that place her mind used to retreat to when the unthinkable was happening to her.

  Peyton turned, took two steps and slammed right into a man who appeared to be standing in line to get into Eden. She uttered a quick “I’m sorry,” and moved past him and along the sidewalk. Although she had escaped Eden, the image of that woman being nailed from behind was burned in her brain. As if she had just been sucker punched in the gut, she struggled to breathe. Everything was too confining. Her barely-there silver dress and strappy shoes gripped her like a vise and she couldn’t wait to rip them off her body. Only then did she realize that she was still wearing her mask, which she quickly tore away from her face and flung to the concrete. But less than a minute later she realized that discarding the mask wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Holy shit! That’s Peyton Matthews!”

  Peyton heard a woman scream her name and then a request for an autograph. Peyton never turned down her fans, but she couldn’t do this right now. She attempted a wave in the direction of the fan’s voice, but as her fingers came into her line of sight she noticed them shaking uncontrollably.

  “Peyton.” The sound of her name. The low, demanding voice stopped her dead in her tracks and she met his gaze. “Get in.”

  She barely knew Luke McGinnis, but for some reason she trusted this man. He opened the passenger side door of his pickup truck and in that same demanding tone he said, “Please.” She didn’t hesitate and walked toward him. He reached out his hand and took her trembling one in his. His touch made her feel wanted and protected as he helped her into the front seat and shut the door. The seconds it took for him to round his vehicle and enter through the driver’s side felt like an eternity. She prayed that he would take her hand into his after he started the truck and pulled away from the curb, but he never did.

  Although she was just inches from him, she once again let her mind wander to what she had witnessed in that playroom. “I…I can’t breathe.” She attempted to take in deep breaths, but her chest wouldn’t have it. It felt like someone was sitting across her breastbone, successfully thwarting her chest’s ability to expand and contract.

  “Put your head between your legs,” Luke said.

  She complied and bent over. Her fingers gripped her sweaty scalp and she tried like hell to gulp in enough air to satisfy her oxygen-deprived body. But after numerous failed attempts, her anxiety skyrocketed and in addition to feeling like she couldn’t breathe, she thought she was going to vomit right there in Luke’s truck.

  Window. Air.

  Peyton pushed the power window button and leaned her head out, only to be met with a wintery mix of rain and sleet. Although the air was crisp and frigid against her heated skin, she found no relief in its bite. Bile and the four drinks in her belly threatened to defy gravity as she tried to find her voice.

  “Stop…please. I need to get out!” she screamed.

  Luke immediately pulled over. Peyton flew out of the truck and ran toward the roar of the waves. They must have been on the outskirts of Atlantic City because the beach and the surrounding streets were practically deserted. She sprinted through the sand but struggled in her obnoxious heels and fell twice. The second time she face-planted she decided it was pointless to stand back up and she crawled to the water. It was while she was folded over, on her hands and knees with the waves crashing around her, she emptied the contents of her stomach. When there was nothing left, dry heaves followed.

  To her horror, a hand pressed between her shoulder blades while another looped her waist. After her last heave, she scooped up handfuls of salty water and attempted to rinse out her mouth and wash away the vomit from her face. She was about to stand when she felt her wobbly legs give out and she found herself being lifted into Luke’s arms. He carried her out of the water and toward the dunes. He set her down on the sand and positioned her in between his legs so that her back was pressed against his chest. He removed his coat and fanned it over her wet, exposed legs. Luke didn’t say anything to her, but tucked her farther into his arms, encasing her in his heat.

  Peyton was mortified. But she couldn’t dismiss the other feelings his embrace invoked. Never had a man held her like this. Like she was important to him, that he was there to protect and take care of her, regardless if she smelled like the sea and vomit.

  After what felt like hours, she heard him say, “I’ll take you home.” He pulled her to her feet and walked her to his truck. Within minutes of the drive, she felt her eyelids grow heavy from exhaustion.

  Chapter Eight

  Luke

  “I specifically told you to keep an eye on her!” Luke growled into the phone.

  “Between myself, Casey and the security team, Peyton Matthews did not leave our sight, as you directed. Mr. M, no one laid a finger on her, not even when she was on the dance floor.”

  Robin’s words did not calm him. If Peyton hadn’t been touched, then what happened? What caused her to flee his club and have a total breakdown on the beach? Luke looked over and stared at the sleeping woman huddled in his passenger seat, her face pressed against the window. Although her long, blonde sea-matted hair shielded her face, he could tell by her rhythmic breaths and her occasional low whimpers that she was on the other side of consciousness.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  Robin cleared her throat. “Ms. Matthews wished to have a tour, which I granted. As I do with all Eden’s guests, I informed her of the purpose of the playrooms, that what she was about to witness was completely consensual. She appeared a little nervous, but that was both expected and understandable.”

  Robin’s shaky voice suggested that she was scared. The woman probably thought she was going to be fired over this. Luke wasn’t happy with how Peyton left the club, but so far it didn’t appear that his staff had done anything warranting immediate termination. “What did Ms. Matthews see?” he asked, his tone softening slightly.

  “In the first room, a woman had been prepared by her dom. She was blindfolded, her wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts. The couple was just about to engage in sex when we moved on to the next room.”

  “How did Ms. Matthews handle that? Seeing the woman restrained?”

  “Actually, she seemed intrigued. I was satisfied with her response, so much so that I knew she could handle a peek into the communal room. Once in there her intrigue blossomed into arousal.”

  His breathing hitched at the thought of Peyton looking on as men and women fucked in front of her. It was likely her panties had grown wet at the sight. And her skin. Her beautiful, creamy skin had probably turned a delicious shade of pink. “Explain,” he pressed.

  “There were multiple couples and trios, but Ms. Matthews’ attention was captured by one trio in particular. A man was penetrating a woman from behind. During the act he directed the woman to eat his wife’s pussy, who at that moment was already sucking on the woman’s nipple. We watched for a bit and then left. I had asked her if ménage was something she herself would be interested in.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  “She said she was a one-man woman. That she wasn’t one to share. As aroused as she was, I believed her. I don’t think ménage is something she would engage in.” Luke exhaled as relief washed over him. For some reason, Peyton’s response, knowing that she wasn’t into having sex with multiple partners at once pleased him.

  “Continue.”

  “It was in the
next room that I saw the change. She went from flushed to…I’ve never seen someone’s skin turn white like that. It was as if she had walked into that room and seen a ghost. And the way her lips quivered and her hands shook, I knew she was either going to faint or run.”

  Peyton had chosen the latter. She had run…straight into his arms. He could still feel her within his embrace, nestled against his chest on the beach, his body heating hers after he had fished her out of the icy Atlantic. She barely knew him, but for some reason she trusted him. Why? How could she trust him so easily?

  “Robin, I want to know exactly what she saw in that room before she fled.”

  “Yes, sir. There was only one couple, a man and a woman. They were apparently roleplaying. The woman was on her hands and knees and wearing a school uniform. The man was fucking her from behind when he grabbed her hair and turned her neck so she could watch us watching her. Ms. Matthews grew pale at the sight. I asked her what was wrong. She didn’t…or couldn’t answer. She ran before I could stop her. I’m so sorry, Mr. M. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

  He wanted to blame Robin. He wanted someone to be at fault for causing Peyton…pain? Sadness? Fear? All three? But she had done nothing wrong. Although he had never met his employees in person, as no one in his club was permitted to see his face or know him by his full name, all members of his staff had gone through Ashton’s stringent hiring process. His partner was very particular about who she let work in her clubs. She ran a background check on everyone who was bold enough to come looking for a job at Eden.

  “You did your job, Robin. Thank you.” He ended the call, sat back against the plush leather, and stared at the road ahead. The sound of Peyton sleep talking divided his attention. He tried to tease out words through her mumbling, but he was unsuccessful. She shifted in her seat, causing her dress to ride up her sculpted…and parted…legs. He forced himself to look away. What the fuck was he doing? Better yet, where the hell was he going? He told her he would take her home, but he had no idea where she was staying while she was in town. He imagined the models in the shoot were staying in some high-end hotel in Atlantic City, but which one? Luke looked in the rearview mirror and watched the city lights fade into the distance.

  ***

  Peyton

  Peyton nuzzled her face into her pillow. Her very hard pillow. A pillow that smelled of sandalwood and soap. A pillow that was moving. She opened her eyes and found Luke staring at her. He tightened his grip, bringing her flush against his chest. Her legs dangled as he held her.

  “Don’t worry. You’re safe,” he said. “I’m going to put you down now. Can you stand?”

  Could she stand? Was she hurt? Wounded in some way that would justify the need for her to be carried to…wait…where the hell was she?

  “You’re in my home…in my guest room. I didn’t know which hotel you were staying at so I brought you here. I hope that’s okay.”

  Peyton was back at the winery…which meant…fuck. The events of the evening came rushing back. She couldn’t imagine what Luke was thinking of her right now. Not only had he witnessed her running like a lunatic from a sex club, but she had followed her escape up with a panic attack and a bout of vomiting on a beach in the dead of winter. She didn’t even want to know what she looked and smelled like right now.

  “I can stand,” she said. He placed her on her feet and took two steps back. “Thank you for what you did back there…on the beach.”

  He didn’t smile. He didn’t acknowledge her thank you in any way. “I’m sure you want to clean up. There’s a bathroom through that door. Towels and toiletries are in the linen closet. I’ll see if I can find something for you to wear so you don’t have to sleep in that,” he said, gesturing to her sandy, damp dress. She looked down for the first time. Her bare feet and legs were covered in sand. Her silver dress now had a rip along the side seam, which unfortunately caused her to expose more sandy leg than she wanted to, and then there was her hair. She swiped a few strands away from her face, but they were glued together by her own vomit. Lovely.

  “Luke, I appreciate this…I do. But I can call a cab. I don’t want to intrude or cause you any more trouble.”

  “It’s almost three in the morning. That means you’re due back at the winery in six hours. I’ll take you to your hotel now if that’s what you want, but I think it makes more sense if you spend the night here.”

  “I’m actually staying at my dad’s. He only lives twenty minutes from here. I’ll just call a cab…”

  “And have a stranger pick you up in the middle of the night?” Luke shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair. “No. I’ll take you.”

  “Luke, I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself,” she said, walking toward the bedroom door.

  He gently took her by the arm and she stopped.

  “Please…don’t. I’ll drive you if you don’t want to stay. Just…it’s not safe for you to be driving around with a stranger at this time of night. What if he recognizes you?” His eyes pleaded with her. But it was his touch, that gentle hold he had on her arm that melted her.

  “Okay. I’ll stay. I guess it will be easier. I can just roll out of bed and go to work in the morning and you won’t have to waste twenty minutes up and twenty minutes back driving me to my dad’s.”

  “Good.” He released her arm. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Are you hungry?”

  She had no idea how she could be hungry after what she had put her body through, but she was absolutely starving. “Yes, actually.”

  He gave her a small smile and left her alone to strip out of her clothes and wash away the remnants of a horrific night.

  Fifteen minutes later Peyton emerged from the shower. She no longer smelled of seaweed and puke. And her hair wasn’t a clumpy, crusty mess anymore. She walked into the bedroom and noticed that Luke had laid a t-shirt, a pair of lounge pants and a toothbrush out for her on the bed. She immediately grabbed the toothbrush and took care of business. She then changed into Luke’s t-shirt and lounge pants. The shirt acted more like a dress and the pants, despite the drawstring, were still way too big. She gathered the pants at the waist and left the bedroom, only to be hit with a glorious smell.

  She followed the scent of bacon right into the kitchen and stopped when she noticed Luke standing over a griddle and flipping those beautiful, greasy strips to perfection. He was wearing a fresh t-shirt and lounge pants and the tips of his dark hair were still wet. She imagined him standing in his shower naked, beads of water cascading down, lower and then…lower.

  “I hope you like BLTs,” he said without even turning around.

  She loved BLTs. But she would have loved liver and onions if that was what he was offering her right now.

  “Hey, you don’t happen to have a rubber band, do you?” she asked, fisting the waistband to her lounge pants.

  Luke placed the spatula on the counter and faced her. She watched his Adam’s apple roll as he swallowed hard. His eyes never left hers as he walked toward her. Just inches from her, he opened a kitchen drawer and retrieved a rubber band. She was about to take the rubber band and say thank you but he leaned in, fisted the balled-up fabric and secured the rubber band around it. His fingers brushed against her bare stomach and she gasped. His eyes darkened and his lips parted. They stared at each other for a few seconds before he turned around and went back to flipping bacon.

  With his back to her, she exhaled and fanned herself.

  She desperately needed a distraction.

  Peyton looked at the ingredients on the kitchen island. All the makings of a good BLT were present with one exception. “Do you have any toothpicks?” she asked. He reached into a cabinet just above his head and pulled out a small rectangular box and handed it to her.

  “Perfect. Now stand back. I’m bringing Guy Fieri’s ‘Diners, Drive-ins and Dives’ to the Lucrezia Winery.” She retrieved the plate of bacon from Luke’s hand and set it on the island. She grabbed four slices of toast, lathered them up with
mayo, and layered them with lettuce, bacon and tomato that had been generously doused with fresh ground pepper. Peyton cut the sandwiches into perfect wedges, pierced each one with a toothpick and situated them neatly on the plates Luke had set out. A dill pickle spear was placed next to the sandwich and a healthy helping of Herr’s potato chips acted as the plate’s centerpiece. “And there you have it,” she said, handing Luke his plate.

  “Where did you learn how to do that?” he asked, inspecting his sandwich like it was a work of art. He pulled out a bar stool at the island and took a seat. She grabbed her own plate and sat next to him.

  “I was a waitress at a diner for a few years. Gus taught me a few tricks.” She pulled out the toothpick from one of the wedges and took a monstrous bite of her sandwich. He followed her lead and dug in as well.

  Two bites later he asked, “Who’s Gus?”

  “Gus and his wife Gina adopted Lainey and me when we were ten and twelve. They owned a small diner in Dennisville, New Jersey. I worked there through high school waiting and bussing tables.”

  He had just finished his second wedge when he asked, “How did you go from waiting tables to world-famous supermodel? Did you always want to be a model?”

  “Hell no. Modeling clothes and walking down runways were never things I envisioned doing.”

  “Then how did it happen?”

  “I was presented with an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up.” Peyton took another bite as he sat there staring at her, silently prompting her to continue.

  What was the harm in giving him a little piece of her past? She was adept at filtering out unnecessary and complicated information. “I had just graduated high school and turned eighteen two days prior when my current agent walked through the diner’s doors. She had been on her way to Atlantic City for modeling auditions. I was in the middle of refilling her coffee mug when she asked me if I had ever thought of a career in modeling. I laughed, of course, because I thought she was teasing me. But before she left, she handed me her business card along with the address and date and time of the audition. I stuffed that card into my pocket and didn’t give it another thought until I got home later that night and saw Lainey sitting at the kitchen table studying for her college entrance exams. She was only entering her junior year in high school, but she was determined to get a scholarship. It hit me at that moment. What would happen if Lainey didn’t get that scholarship? How would my sister be able to go to college? Gus and Gina worked their asses off at the diner, but they wouldn’t be able to put either of us through college. I didn’t care if I didn’t get to go. Hell, it would have been a waste of money if I’d gone immediately after graduating high school because I had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. But Lainey, she did know. Even at sixteen she knew she wanted to be a writer.”