Page 111 of Craving Sin

My hope is that the threat against Abbott was only from his father, and that whatever else is going on has nothing to do with him, and it’s just a coincidence that his father was working with someone going after our family before Abbott and I met. Stranger things have happened. Even if that’s the case, someone going after me is also a threat to Abbott, regardless.

“Wow,” Abbott says from beside me. We’re in a secure VIP area with guards at each corner and a wall behind us. Finan, Conan, Flynn, Blain, and Torin are in the chairs and couches around us, Finan with a drink in hand, bobbing his head to the music.

“What?” I ask Abbott.

“It’s just wild, is all. People fuck in those rooms in the back?”

I cock a brow. “Why? You want to make use of one?” I ask, leaning close to his ear.

He chuckles. “Maybe later. For now, I’m just curious.”

“Yes, they do. Anything you want can be found in Paradise.” I wink, and he rolls his eyes at me. If he thinks I’m joking, I’m not.

“There are lots of tits,” he says before I bark out a laugh. He’s not wrong. We have both male and female dancers here, but the women spend a lot of time topless, while swinging on poles and gyrating against each other or men.

“Lots of male ass too, but I’d rather not kill someone tonight, so try not to look too hard,” I joke…well, it’s kind of a joke. I trust him, and he’s only human, but I’m only human too, and I’m a possessive motherfucker.

“I don’t want them. Just you.”

“Mmm.” I nuzzle into his neck. “I just want you too.”

“Keep your hands to yourself, Doc. No funny business in the club.” The sound of Finan’s voice pulls us apart just before I kiss him.

“Fuck off,” I tell him.

“Why are you telling me? He’s the one touching.” Abbott points over to me.

“Because you’re supposed to be the responsible one,” Finan counters.

“How in the fuck would you know anything about being responsible?” Torin cocks a brow.

“Fuck off. I’m full of responsibility. I just choose to ignore it most of the time.” When Flynn laughs at Finan’s response, Finan leans over and bumps fists with him. “Flynn gets me.”

“Flynn is just as big of an idiot as you,” Blain adds, the group of them continuing to tease each other.

These are the things that I know Abbott enjoys—the brotherhood I have with these men and how they’re all building their own with him too. Sometimes I’ll just sit back and watch him with Conan or Finan—the two he’s the closest with—and know that even though I don’t deserve him, that I come with a lot of baggage, at least I can give him this.

“Oh shit,” Conan says.

“What’s wrong?” I immediately sit up, on high alert.

“Nothing,” he replies just as a man with blond hair, wearing a sparkly Speedo and nothing else, approaches.

“Hi. Excuse me. I’d like to talk to Conan,” he says to one of the guards.

“Who the fuck is that?” Finan asks.

“No,” the guard says.

The younger guy—maybe mid-twenties—looks at Conan. “Come on, Boss-man. Just for a minute.”

I try to make eye contact with Conan, but he’s avoiding me. “Jesus, it’s fine. What do you want?”

The guard steps aside, and the kid approaches. Oh. There’s his ass. He’s wearing a G-string.

He heads straight for the chair where Conan is sitting and parks his ass right on the arm of it.

“Two more songs until me,” he says.