“Don’t talk to me like a lawyer.”
“Then don’t make me feel like I need one.”
He took another sip of his drink. I wanted to look away from him, because he still had that look on his face, the conceited look of a man who is completely in control of a situation and knows it.
“Fine,” I said. “Yes, I think it’s a little suspect that you happened to leave marks on my wrists that are identical to two murder victims who also have a connection to you. And while in theory, yes, there could conceivably more than one person going around leaving marks on women’s wrists, I doubt it’s that prevalent.”
I stared at him, satisfied. I expected him to give me a look of appreciation. I felt like I’d just won my case.
But he only looked amused, like I had a lot to learn about the world.
He didn’t say anything, and it was disarming. I wanted to look around for the waitress, but I didn’t want to look away from him. It felt like he’d be winning.
“Come here,” he commanded. “I’m going to tell you something.”
“Tell me from over there,” I said.
“Come. Here.” His voice was aggressive, commanding, with a slight undertone of something else I couldn’t put my finger on. It was almost threatening, like if I didn’t do what he said, there would be consequences.
I slid over until I was right next to him. Noah reached under the table and pulled my legs onto his lap. He took my hand in his, turned it over until he was stroking my palm softly with his fingertips. The pad of his thumb slid over my wrist, tracing the marks he’d left there last night.
“Do you know what these marks mean, Charlotte?” he asked me.
“That you like to tie people up during sex.” His touch was hypnotizing me, and I could feel that familiar pull toward him. The pull that made my skin feel like it was on fire, that got me wet, that caused me to be pushed to the floor of a limousine so that I could suck his cock. It was like a wave, pulling me under, and I was helpless to resist. But he’d invited me here because I’d told him I’d wanted to get to know him, and now he was turning everything right back to sex. And on top of that, he was evading my questions about the murders.
I pulled my hand back from his. “No.” I shook my head. “Noah, I came here because I wanted… I thought that…” I trailed off and looked at the table. I felt stupid, saying the words out loud. That I wanted to come here to talk to him, to spend time with him, to go on a date like a normal person. But whenever I tried to talk about those things, he acted like I was being a silly little school girl. And maybe I was.
He reached out and took my chin in his hand, turned my face back so I was looking at him. “Do you trust me?” he asked. His eyes were still burning, that same lustful look he’d been giving me ever since I met him. But I could see something beneath that. He wanted me to say yes, wanted me to trust him. It mattered to him.
I swallowed. “I don’t even know you,” I said weakly.
“Not the question.”
“I’m not…. I mean, I don’t…”
“I want to let you in, Charlotte. I want to show you things about myself.”
“Then why are we here?” I asked, frustrated. “We’re at some kind of pick-up bar. This isn’t the kind of place you take someone if you want to get to know them better.”
“And why is that?” He was still holding on to my chin, only now the pad of his thumb was making slow circles over my skin.
“Because this is the kind of place you go before you have sex.”
“Do you know what kind of club this is, Charlotte?”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?” I looked around, trying to see what he was talking about. “An exclusive one?”
He stared at me, not saying anything, and it reminded me of being in a law school interview, where the interviewee wanted you to figure something out on your own, without them having to give you hints.
I turned and looked around.
The music pulsed through the speakers hanging over the dance floor, men and women dancing in time to the beat. At the bar, I watched beautiful women flirt with beautiful and rich men. Were they hookers, maybe? Was this the kind of place you came if you wanted to pay for sex?
I watched as a man took a girl by the hand and walked her to a door on the far side of the room. The door opened and I caught a flash of black walls and a black staircase before they disappeared. It looked like some kind of basement, which was odd for a club of this caliber. Why would a fancy club like this, in such an exclusive part of the city, have a basement? My brain was searching for something just out of its grasp.
And that’s when my eyes landed on the collar sitting on the table.
A cold shiver of fear went up my spine.
This wasn’t just a club.
It wasn’t just a sex club.
It was a BDSM club.
I didn’t know much about BDSM, except for what I’d seen in the movies. My roommate, Julia, had read a couple of novels about it. I’d seen them strewn around the apartment, pictures of handcuffs and whips on their covers.
I turned to Noah. “This is a BDSM club,” I whispered.
He nodded, waiting for my reaction.
That same fear ran up my spine again, and my arms broke out in goose bumps.
But the fear wasn’t because I was afraid.
It was because I was excited.
And that was frightening.
“How is this supposed to help me to get to know you?” I asked Noah, frustrated.
“Do you trust me?” he repeated. His hand slid down my neck, tracing a line over my collarbone, then dipping just inside the top of my dress, running over the top of my bra.
The goose bumps on my arms broke out all over my body, and I was afraid Noah was going to be able to tell.
“I’m not…I don’t know.”
“You need to trust me,” he whispered. He pulled me close so that our foreheads were touching. He smelled like expensive cologne and shaving cream and something else, something Noah.
“How can I trust you when you let me get to know you?” I breathed.
“This is how you get to know me,” he said. “This is who I am.”
“But how does this help me get to know you?” I asked.
“By understanding why I need this, you will start to understand everything about me,” he said. He kissed the side of my neck softly, his lips brushing over my collarbone, bursting my skin into flames.
“You’re not making sense,” I said. I could feel myself getting seduced, getting pulled under by his kiss, his touch, the way his body felt close to mine. I needed to keep my head clear, but it was impossible. He had a pull and power over me that I couldn’t understand, that I was helpless to resist.
“No,” I said, pushing away from him. “This can’t all be sexual. I just…I’m not okay with it.”
“This isn’t all about sex, Charlotte,” Noah said, pulling me back toward him.
“How isn’t it?” I challenged.
“Seeing what I need, what I expect from you, will be the only way you can possibly begin to uncover the reasons why.”
“And then I’ll understand you better,” I finished.
“Yes.” He put his hand onto mine, intertwining our fingers.