Page 5 of Carter

It’s too chilly of a night for such a dress, but I’m plenty warm from my escape. Two blocks later, I’m smiling at Manny, the bouncer blocking the door of my favorite club.

Gotcha’s.

I couldn’t grab my purse with my cash and ID. It was on the first floor with Carter. But they know me here. Manny pulls the black velvet rope back for me. He winks. “Evening, Sasha. No Carter, tonight?”

“Nope. I’m flying solo.” I flash him my most charming grin. With a swish of my long ponytail, I sashay into the club.

They know me here. I’m not looking for a man or a free drink. I’m looking for music, my friends, and one reckless night where I get to feel like myself.

But before the drink, one quick dance.

Not bothering to find my friends yet, I elbow my way through the crowd, right to the center of the floor. The room is dark, the colorful lights flicker and swirl over the black walls and ground. The music thumps a steady rhythm that overtakes my body. My eyes close; my arms reach up over my head. The sound reverberates through my limbs. I sway back and forth, my hips gyrating to the beat.

It’s one of my favorite songs—one I play when I teach my Zumba classes. I’m finding myself doing exactly what I tell my class to do: let go and release your inner sex goddess. I can feel others’ gazes devouring me as I lift my arms higher. Shake my ass harder⁠—

Suddenly, I’m ripped from my meditative dance—someone’s grabbing my arm and yanking me hard. I lurch from the center of the floor.

“What the hell—” I start to scream. Then I stop.

I’m staring into the face of my fiancé. For the second time tonight, I’m gasping from the pain of his grip.

His blond hair stands on end. His chiseled jaw is clenched.

His green eyes are normally happy, sparkling. Now they flash at me, daring me to speak. He turns, pulling me further from the dance floor.

Fear rips through my body. What is he going to do to me? Should I call for Manny?

Carter catches my arm and pulls me from the center of the dance floor. His grip is firm enough that I know I’m not slipping away again, but the instant I stumble he loosens it and steadies me. Fear still races through me—not because he is hurting me, but because I have never seen this version of him before.

Everyone around us stops dancing. Watching as he pulls me into a dark corner. Holding my arm with one hand, he grabs the back of an empty chair with his other. With a bang, he turns the chair around, so it is facing the back corner of the room. He sits down and tugs me roughly over his lap.

I’m in shock. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Oomph!” I land over his thighs. My hands grasp for something, anything other than the sticky floor. I settle on wrapping my fingers around the legs of the chair. Luckily, thanks to my yoga classes, I’m able to balance my weight. I quickly press my tiptoes into the floor behind me, performing some kind of new downward dog.

Once I’m positioned and not fearing falling, reality strikes me.

I’m lying over Carter’s lap.

In the club.

Surrounded by people.

All my friends are here.

They are all watching.

He’s finally going to give me the spanking he’s been threatening me with for years.

My face burns with humiliation. Sure, we’re in a dark corner, but I can feel the curious gazes on me. I hear the hushed whispers. I picture their faces—pretending not to stare, politely not observing the spectacle before their eyes.

I know otherwise.

They’re all watching. Loving every minute of it. And no one will dare to stop a Bachman. Everyone here knows who Carter is and the powerful men who back him. Hell—half the people here tonight are Bachmans.

I’m lying over his lap. His huge arm locks around my waist, pinning me to him. The heat from his body radiates through my thin dress. His voice is low, furious. “Why did you lie to me and sneak out after I told you we needed to be home?”

My embarrassment flashes into anger. “Because I am not asking permission for what I wear, Carter. I won’t.”