Page 58 of Sinner’s Game

He hesitates only a moment, then his fingers tease me more, his mouth by my ear whispering, “Come for me, baby. Come on, angel,” until my entire body is under his control and a new orgasm breaks through me.

I arch up, astounded by the power of the pleasure that crashes through me, and for a moment, all I can do is breathe.

When I come back to earth, I roll on my side. “Only you,” I say again.

“Because you trust me. Because it is a sacrament. A promise that I will never hurt you. You have to know you’ll be safe. And with me, you know that.”

“Yes,” I whisper, thinking that Ronan’s trust feels a lot like love, and damned if I’m not sliding into it. “I do trust you.” I prop myself up on an elbow. “I’ve never had that before. Knowing for sure that a man won’t hurt me.” I think I have it with you.

I don’t say that to him, though. Instead, I ask, “That’s not what you need, is it? It’s not safety that you’re looking for.”

“No,” he says. “I need control. Trust, too, but for me it’s about the control.”

“Maybe that’s your own kind of safety net. You pay for sex, right? It’s safe because there aren’t complications. And you have control because you’re the customer.”

He looks away. “Yes,” he says. “You’re right.”

“Do you belong to those clubs?”

“Clubs?”

“Sex clubs. I may not be that experienced, but I also don’t live under a rock.”

He grins. “Fair enough. Yes.” His brow rises, and he slides his fingers down, then slowly fills my pussy. I whimper as he asks, “Do you want me to take you to one?”

“No,” I say, because that’s not what I yearn for. “But I like the way we fit. You liking that control. Me liking to feel safe. I don’t know what you do at those clubs. What you need. But whatever it is, Ronan, you can have it with me.”

“Oh, angel,” he says, then draws me to him. He kisses my forehead. “What you do to me.”

I close my eyes and snuggle close, astounded by how open I am around this man, and at the same time, too sleepy to think deeply about it.

I’m just drifting off when my phone chimes, signaling an incoming email.

I groan—I’d forgotten to silence it. I reach for it, then gasp.

“Ronan,” I say. “It’s from Mr. White.”

Chapter Twenty

Until Ronan and Reggie led me to it, I had no idea that there was a secret tunnel that started at The SeaSide Inn, crossed under the Pacific Coast Highway, then emerged in a subbasement at the Devlin Saint Foundation.

“It makes it easier to move people if they need to get to a meeting without being seen,” Reggie explains as we step out of the corridor and into the foundation.

The corridor is not only well-hidden, it’s well-protected, with multiple locks and codes required to pass through the series of doors before entering the subbasement through the back of a maintenance closet.

We move away from the closet, then jog quickly up the stairs, exiting on the third floor before taking a back hallway I’ve never seen before into the research room. Ronan leads us through this library that’s open by appointment to the public, twisting through the stacks until we reach a private room.

He knocks three times, the lock beeps, and we enter the room to greet the team members that Ronan has summoned for this mission. As soon as Reggie, Ronan, and I are in the room, Tamra shuts the door and locks it behind us.

“I don’t expect anyone to interrupt, but better to be careful. Hello, sweetheart,” she adds, reaching for my hand. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay,” I say, surprised to realize it’s the truth. I should be a basket case, but I have Ronan’s strength to draw from, and that’s keeping me centered. And sane.

We’re here to plan out the mission for meeting Mr. White. His email had been lacking in those parameters I’d asked for. All he’d said was that he was requesting a meeting to discuss a job in Riverside County that required my particular brand of expertise. He asked that I reply with the location and time so that we could discuss the specific itinerary and fees.

So we had, with Ronan responding with a location that, apparently, Saint’s Angels has used once before. As soon as the email was sent, he texted Tamra, who immediately pulled this team together.

In addition to me, Tamra, Ronan, and Reggie, there are five others sitting around the long conference tables. I recognize Charlie McKay and Corey Pennington—called Penn—from Ellie and Devlin’s wedding. They both usually work out of state, but when Ronan reintroduces us, he explains that they’ve been in town to meet with a source.