I haven’t been to a club since I was twenty-three. That was ten years ago, yet Sinner’s is the exact same as I remember it.
The air is musty, rich with sweat and marijuana. My shoes stick to the cocktails on the floor, and bass-heavy music thumps from the speakers.
The only difference between now and then is that for the first time in my life, I’m tucked behind a thick red rope at the back of the club with a woman I’m helplessly falling for and a group of intoxicated hockey players who might just take home the cup.
Eight players of the Minnesota Woodmen are spread about the VIP section, expensive bottles of tequila and vodka in their hands and a plethora of women in their laps.
Leo is currently drinking straight from a bottle of Don Julio while Scarlett and I sit squished together on a leather couch, watching them with wide eyes.
The music isn’t quite as loud in the back section, and for that, I’m extremely grateful. It wouldn’t be possible to talk to Scarlett if it were too loud.
I lean toward her and say, “Leo’s going to throw up.”
“He has a surprisingly strong stomach.”
“Nobody has a stomach that strong.”
She snorts a laugh. “You’re probably right. Tequila is a silent killer. How does the saying go? Tequila makes her clothes come off?”
I stretch my arm along the top of the couch behind her and grin. “Is that how you handle tequila, Scar? Do your clothes come off?”
“Maybe.”
I swallow hard, sobering up with her honesty. My tongue shrivels up in my mouth at the thought of her stripping down for me. Suddenly, I have the mind of a horny teenager.
“Someone get this babe a tray of tequila shots, then!” one of the players from a few seats over shouts, seemingly overhearing our conversation.
His eyes are on Scarlett, a carnal spark in them that has me flushing with annoyance. The arm I had behind her falls directly to her shoulders.
“Not happening,” I snap at him.
As soon as the guy gets up and staggers toward us, I recognize him from the scar along the right side of his face. Asher Clodelle is a third-line grinder with an attitude problem. He and Tyler have gotten into it twice already in this playoff series.
Scarlett sighs, annoyed by him, and I can’t help but smile at that.
“If you’re not into her, man, let me try to score.”
Despite the revulsion sparking in my stomach, I keep my face cool, calm. “Say shit like that again and you won’t have a dick to ‘score’ with afterward.”
He looks taken aback, as if someone telling him off is a rare occurrence. The sad thing is it probably is. His hands fly up in front of him. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t know you were together.”
Scarlett subconsciously turns her body toward me. My heart jumps.
“Clearly,” I mutter, cupping her shoulder, brushing her skin with my fingertips. She shivers against me. I lower my voice to a murmur only she can hear. “Come dance with me.”
I never dance. Never have, never thought I would want to. Maybe it’s the possessiveness I feel in my bones or the energy in the club, but all I want is to have her pressed against me, her body heat fusing with mine.
She turns and looks up at me. “I’m a terrible dancer.”
“Me too. Let’s be terrible together.”
I smile, relieved when she nods. “Fine. But you can’t laugh at me.”
“You have my word.”
I get off the couch and offer my hand for her to take. When she slides her fingers across my palm and links our fingers, I accept the sparks that break out beneath her touch like an old friend.
We head for the security guard standing watch at the entrance to the VIP section and wait as he unhooks the rope and lets us through.
As soon as we step onto the dance floor, I’m hit with a wall of nostalgia. The last time I was here, I was coaxing Beth away from Gracie and into an alleyway, where she told me I was a father. The next day, I was alone with Cooper, and Beth was admitted to a psychiatric hospital.
I don’t realize I’ve stopped walking until I feel Scarlett tug on my hand before coming to stand in front of me. Her closeness has me wanting to pull myself from my thoughts, but I seem to be locked in them.
An onslaught of emotions crashes into me, threatening to knock me on my ass. It’s not that I haven’t accepted what happened and how it changed my life forever. But it’s different being here, knowing this is the place where everything changed.
In a way, it was on this dance floor where my life really began. What happened turned me into the man I am today, and maybe I’m a bit naive or way too fucking hopeful, but there’s a part of me that wonders if I’ve come full circle. If being here right now with Scarlett is what helps turns me into the man I’ll be tomorrow.
“Adam?” she shouts above the noise.
I swallow the emotion in my throat and bring our linked hands to my chest, holding the back of hers to my pounding heart. There are too many things I want to say to her that I can’t. Not yet and definitely not here.
Instead, I flash her a smile and bring her hand to my lips, kissing it. “Let’s dance.”
She stares at me for a few moments, not convinced, but relents with a mouthed okay.
We walk a bit further into the crowd before I lift our hands in the air and spin her around. She grins, releasing a giddy laugh that burrows itself in my memories.
I stare down at her with an open gaze, letting her feel every single thing I do. Taking her in my arms, I palm her waist and drag my thumbs over the hem of her shirt. It lifts, and our skin touches.
We’re getting closer with each thump of the bass, until our bodies are pressed together. Her eyes flare with desire as we sway to the music, and the proof of how attracted I am to her digs into her lower stomach.
It’s only the second time we’ve touched like this—if the yacht bathroom really counts—but I need it to not be the last. She feels perfect against me, like she was made to fit in my arms.
Her eyes drop to my mouth when I lean forward and rumble a warning “Careful.”
An eyebrow twitches. “Careful?”
I press the rigid outline of my cock against her and hold her still when she tries to swirl her hips. Her breath hitches, forcing me to stare at her parted lips. They look as soft as I remember.
“I haven’t touched a woman like this in a long time, Scarlett. Make sure this is what you want.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Touch me, Adam.”
I release a breath, slipping my hands beneath her shirt and holding her bare waist. “Not here, in the open like this.”
Suddenly, nerves flash across her features. She stays silent.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Can we go outside?”
Worry has me nodding quickly and pulling her through the crowd and out the front doors. Once we hit a wall of fresh summer air, she relaxes a bit.
I lead us away from the club and to the side of a neighbouring building. We’re still close enough to faintly hear the music but far enough there’s nobody else around.
She stops in front of me, and I slip a hand through her hair, holding the back of her head, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
Her cheeks are pink, and I’m not sure if it’s from the heat in the club or something else.
“It’s so stupid.”
“Nothing that upsets you is stupid to me.”
“It’s just been a . . . long time since I’ve been intimate with anyone. I don’t want to do anything wrong,” she admits, her voice timid.
I blink. “Are you a virgin? Because that’s not something I would judge you—”
“No!” she rushes out. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just not . . .”
I must look as confused as I feel because she blows out a harsh breath and shuts her eyes. “This isn’t something we should talk about on a sidewalk in the middle of the night.”
“Okay, then let me take you to my place. We can talk there.”
She opens her eyes. “Are you sure?”
I brush my thumb across her cheekbone and nod. “Of course. Text Leo and let him know I have you so he doesn’t worry while we hunt down my car.”
“Okay,” she agrees before I drop my hand to my side and shove both in my pockets.
While she texts Leo, I move to the side and will my body to calm down before my erection rips a hole in my jeans.
I flip the light switch on in the entryway and kick my shoes off, watching as Scarlett does the same. The air is tense between us, and even though she’s been in my home before, it feels vastly different this time.
Easton comes bumbling in our direction, his ears flopping with each step. Scarlett drops to her haunches and starts to give him chin scratches.
“He’s going to fall in love with you,” I tease.
She looks up at me, smiling. “He’s sweet.”
“Cooper trained him. He did a pretty good job of it too.”
“You hear that?” Scarlett asks the big pile of panting fluff. “Your dad says you’re a good boy.”
“Sometimes a good boy,” I correct her before moving around the two of them and further into the house. Turning into the kitchen, I grab us each a bottle of water and untwist both the caps. The time above the stove says it’s just before midnight.
Scarlett enters the kitchen a few moments after I do. “You didn’t drink tonight,” she notes.
I shrug. “You have more of an effect on me than any amount of alcohol would.”
“When you say things like that, I want to be a different person. Someone who can say the same things back.”
Her admission surprises me. I walk toward her and hold out one of the bottles. She takes it eagerly, bringing it to her mouth and drinking half of it in one go.
“I wasn’t always like this, Scary Spice. And I don’t need you to be anyone but who you are. Who you are is precisely why I say these things.”
“If you weren’t always like this, then what were you like? How does young Adam compare to you now?”
She spins around and leans back against the counter. Her fingers are tight around her water bottle. I stand beside her, copying her stance.
“I was someone who didn’t bother learning a woman’s name before taking her to bed and drank bottles of my father’s expensive wine just to piss him off. I was the guy crushing on his best friend and nearly ruining his entire relationship with her over it. I was half the man I am today.”
She blows out a long breath. “I don’t even know where to start with that. I mean, you were into Ava? Like Oakley’s wife?”
I laugh, looking at my socks. “You pieced that together pretty quickly. But yeah, I liked her. Thinking back on it now, it definitely wasn’t what I thought it was. She was, and will always be, my best friend. I was just a pissed-off teenager choosing to cling to someone who made me happy and reading all of the signals wrong.”
She hums in understanding. “Why were you so angry? I’m guessing it has to do with why you busied yourself with drinking your father’s booze.”
“My parents weren’t around much. I rebelled to get attention, but even that didn’t work.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Don’t be. I’ve had thirty-three years to get over it.” I take a drink from my bottle, desperate to soothe my dry throat. Talking about my parents never gets easier. Betrayal is a lot harder to get over when it’s your family. “Were you a rebel growing up?”
“Right,” she scoffs, crossing her arms. “I didn’t even really date. It was all hockey, hockey, and more hockey. There was never time for boys or partying.”
“Well, you weren’t missing much. Boys don’t know how to treat a woman. That’s a man’s job.” I waggle my eyebrows.
“If that’s the case, I guess I should head out and go find one.”
I suck air through my teeth. “That was cold, Scar. Ice-cold.”
“Ice-cold is my specialty. They called me the Ice Queen in Calgary for a reason.”
“Calgary breeds assholes like they’re scared they’ll eventually run out. I hope you didn’t take it seriously.”
After having that brief interview with one of Scarlett’s old teammates, Lilliana, and witnessing how she talked down to my woman, it’s easy to imagine the environment back on that team. The thought of Scarlett being spoken to like that on a daily basis upsets me deeply.
“I didn’t really care. I wasn’t there to make friends.”
I frown. “They should have been your friends, though. Teammates are supposed to be like family.”
“I am what I am, and not everyone likes that. If I wanted to be all sunshiny like you, I would.”
I spin to face her and cup her head in my hands. She stops breathing for a second before releasing a slow breath and blinking up at me with curious eyes.
“You don’t feel cold, Scarlett. If I’m the sun, then you’re my warmth.”
