Chapter Seven

 

 

 

Serena scrambled to assist Mitch. She grasped his arm and helped him back to the bed. “I thought you just bruised your shoulder or something. It’s not that simple, is it?” She tried to catch the look in his eyes, but he avoided her gaze. His cheeks were flushed.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not fine, Mitch. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

“I need to get back to the hotel. Curfew’s coming up.”

“You need to tell me what the hell is wrong. A simple muscle strain or a bruise doesn’t cause both your leg and your arm to collapse out from under you.”

Tears threatened when her husband turned away, stood and limped over to where his clothes lay strewn across the floor. With one hand braced against the credenza holding the television, he bent to retrieve his pants and shirt. She noticed he held his other arm, his passing arm, tucked close to his chest. Re-dressed, he dropped onto the end of the bed to put on his socks and shoes. Serena snagged her robe she’d laid over the back of the guest chair. When she spun around, her husband was already making his way to the door.

“Mitch.”

He stopped and dropped his head.

“Talk to me. Please.”

His big shoulders rose and fell twice before he slowly turned to face her. When he finally lifted his head, she moved closer to him, within breathing space, needing to look into his face, read his thoughts through his expressions and figure out what the hell was going on in his head that he thought he had to keep an injury as bad as this appeared to be from her. He’d been hurt before. He’d be hurt again. Football was a rough sport and in his position, he was tackled often enough that she had almost stopped flinching through every one.

He licked his lips, looking contrite. Then anger passed over his face before resignation stayed behind for a moment, followed by determination settling in to take a solid stance.

“A few weeks ago, I took a hard hit and dislocated my shoulder. It’s happened a few more times since. That tackle last week twisted my knee pretty bad, but that’s nothing. It’s my arm everyone is worried about.”

“How bad?”

He shrugged. She shifted and tapped his chin, forcing him to look at her.

“How bad?” she ground out.

He pinched his lips tight and briefly closed his eyes. “Bad enough they’ve benched me.”

“I know that. But then what? You told me you had to work with a trainer for a few weeks.”

He nodded. “Yeah. The team doctor also insists I see a therapist.”

“So, you’ll rest up, work out the kinks, and you’ll be back on the field.”

“That’s the plan.” He dropped his gaze again.

“You think it’s more serious.”

“Look, honey, I really need to go.” He made a point of checking his watch. “If I don’t get back, Coach will be pissed. I may not be playing, but the restrictions still apply.”

“And I’ll be pissed if you don’t tell me the truth.”

He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugged her against him, and deepened their connection, licking his tongue over her lips and inside her mouth. When he had finished devouring her, she was breathless, but not stupid. Her husband was avoiding her.

He smacked one more kiss on her moist lips. “Gotta go.” Then he turned and strode down the short hallway to the door. “Will I see you in Seattle?”

She gritted her teeth, trying like the devil not to stomp her foot and demand that her husband stay and fill in the details he so aptly ignored. But judging by the firm set of his jaw and the look in his eyes, she wasn’t getting any more information out of him tonight.

Fine. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

His eyes twinkled. “Any chance I’ll get a repeat of tonight?”

“Not telling. I’ll send you a text on where and when to meet me, though.”

He dipped in, nuzzled her neck and whispered in her ear, “Not even a hint?”

Although she was annoyed with him, that little bit of foreplay left her wanting more. If they’d had time, she’d have grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him back to the bed.

“Nope. I’ve got some secrets to keep too.”

Regret flared in his eyes, but he stepped away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You’d better. I love you, Mitch.”

“I love you too, babe.” He turned away.

She stood in the doorway and watched him walk down the hall toward the elevators, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his head tucked down to his chest.

“We will have that talk, Mitch. And I’ll want the whole story,” she called out to him.

He paused, but he didn’t look back.

When she heard the ping of the elevator, she stepped into her room, letting the door close with a solid click behind her. She slid the lock in place and flipped the deadbolt over. Then she dropped her forehead to the door.

They’d never had problems communicating before. Was this the mythical seven-year itch? She knew Mitch loved her, and he’d always had his moments when he became introspective and maybe even a little distant, but not like this—nothing like this.

Her gut told her his injury wasn’t the only thing bothering him. She knew his childhood hadn’t been the easiest. But he’d found a home with Elaine and Grant. Siblings in Mason, Jack, Ethan and the girls. Where most kids in their situation ran as fast as they could the moment their stint in the system came to an end, he and his foster siblings had stuck closer to their new home. The Grants gave them unconditional love and support. He was the man he was because of their influences.

So why wouldn’t he confide in her?

Serena backed away from the door and turned into the room. She needed to decide what to do before she hit Seattle. She could just create a romantic atmosphere in her hotel room. But that wasn’t drastic enough. What about a club? She could take him to an adult club. Dance for him, maybe. She’d stripped for him, silly teases in the privacy of their bedroom, but could she do one in a more public place? She snorted. Christ, I gave him a blow job in a bar, so how bad could stripping be?

She hurried over to her computer and powered it up. A quick Internet search should tell her if there were any clubs like she was thinking about. They’d never been to one, but she knew they existed in most major cities.

After fifteen minutes of roaming through sites and dismissing a few really raunchy-looking establishments, strip clubs and what appeared to be BDSM dungeons, Serena finally found what she was looking for. She happened upon a discreet ad for an adult club that boasted sensual elegance, class and, most of all, discretion. In fact, a location wasn’t even provided. Not even photographs. A very simple, almost non-existent website with descriptions of what could be found, should you be looking for what they offered. And a phone number along with testimonials. It could be a complete scam. But if it was, why not use more overt advertising like the others?

Serena glanced at her phone sitting beside her laptop. Should I? Would Mitch be okay with this?

Biting her nails, she rose from the chair and paced the room. What if he didn’t like it? They could always leave. She’d never go to a place like that on her own, but she’d be safe with Mitch. And she could always give Mason a heads-up on her plan. Worst-case scenario, they may simply spend an evening dancing then return to her hotel. As a contingency, she could always purchase a few candles, and she’d brought a few pieces of lingerie to wear that she knew were his favorite. They could play in her room if it came to that. Maybe she could buy some silk ties and have him tie her up. Or, better yet, use them on him.

But a club would be so much sexier. More provocative, and something totally outside their norm. And if he was into it, the atmosphere, the experience of being in a place like that could be highly arousing. Arousing enough to forget his problems for one night?

Serena returned to the desk, plopped on the chair and snapped up her phone. Before she could change her mind, she punched in the phone number and waited for the call to be answered, totally expecting to be forwarded to an automated service.

“Hello?”

She almost jumped out of her skin when a deep, smoky, human voice responded on the other end.

“Um…hi. Is this Club Daring?”

“It is. And you are?”

“Serena Ryland.”

“Hello, Serena. I’m Doug. By the way, we avoid last names here. What can I do for you?”

Damn, she hadn’t even thought about that. She wouldn’t want to get her husband in any sort of trouble if he were recognized. She shook her head over her naivety. She’d deal with that issue later. “Well, my husband and I will be in town for a couple of days next week, and we’d like to visit your club.”

“Do you know what type of club this is, ma’am?”

“I do. Or at least I think I do.”

On the other end, that rough voice laughed a low, raspy and utterly sexy sound. “Well, I’m sure even if you think you know, the reality will be beyond your expectations.”

Confused, she picked up the hotel pen on the desk and slid the small pad of paper close enough so that she could doodle. “It’s an…uh…an adult club, right?”

“Yes.”

“And from your website it says there’s a dance floor and a bar.”

“That’s correct.”

“Are there private rooms?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” She noticed she’d doodled a heart and added her and Mitch’s initials.

“On what you want to use the room for.”

“Oh.”

“Serena, I operate a club for couples. I don’t allow single men or women to come on their own. There is a cover charge. Cash bar, though no liquor is served. Yes, there’s a dance floor and there are a handful of private rooms.”

“And are people having sex?” She assumed that’s what the rooms were for.

“Many nights, everyone simply dances.”

That wasn’t a no.

“Will people expect us to have sex with them?” She couldn’t do that. And she didn’t want to share Mitch with anyone either.

He chuckled. “No, Serena. You will not be hauled into an orgy or jumped the minute you walk through the door. There are rules. And I assure you, no means no.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “That’s comforting to know.”

“Are you and your husband both on board with coming to a club like this?”

“Ah…” What exactly did he mean by that? “We’ve never been to one before,” she said. “I’d like to have my husband meet me there.”

“Unfortunately, you do have to come together. Neither of you would get past the front desk on your own. And I have to be assured you both want to be here.”

“Oh. Well, then I guess I can have Mitch meet me outside first.”

“That would work. You’d have to sign some papers and pay the cover charge before we allow you upstairs.”

“What kind of papers?”

“A non-disclosure agreement and a guest waiver form. Essentially, it means that since you’re not a full member of our club, you’re only there on a visitor’s pass. You’ll have full access to the club, though.”

“What’s the non-disclosure for?”

“To protect you and us. You’ll notice that our website didn’t advertise our specific location or show images of the inside of the building. We prefer our privacy. I’m sure you understand.”

“Absolutely.” The last thing she’d want is for Mitch’s picture to be spread around town advertising that he was at some sort of sex club. That would not be good for his reputation.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. What if somebody saw them there, took a picture then posted it on the web? He’d be ruined. Maybe even lose his job.

“You know, now that I think about this, perhaps it’s not such a good idea. My husband can’t afford—”

“Serena. Mrs. Ryland. I assume your husband is Mitch Ryland, the quarterback for the Minnesota Mayhems?”

Crap. “Yes.”

“I can promise you that your privacy will be respected at my club. Cameras are not allowed. There are no security cameras outside, either. And I retain security staff both inside and outside the building to ensure my members’ identities are protected.”

“Well—”

“You can safely come to my club. I can even reserve one of our rooms for you if you’d like.”

She wanted to do this for Mitch. They needed to do something fun, exciting and out of their comfort zone. She wanted to add some zing to their relationship, and this was something she’d always wanted to try. She needed to get her husband back.

“Okay. Thank you, Doug. Can you email me the paperwork and I can complete it and bring it with me?”

“Certainly, and I’ll give you our address when I send the documents. Just let me get a pen to take down your email address.” She heard a rustling noise in the background. “You just confirm the night you plan to visit us. If you tell me what time we can expect you, I’ll even arrange for somebody to meet you outside and show you in. Do you have a special plan for the evening?”

“This is a surprise for my husband.” Although he couldn’t see her, her cheeks heated with embarrassment. Thank God she wasn’t face-to-face with the man. “I plan to do a striptease for my husband.”

His friendly chortling mortified her, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I have the perfect set-up for you. You’ll be in a somewhat private area but still in the public venue. You can do your dance there, then I will give you access to one of the private rooms I mentioned, should you want to use it afterward. The club is fairly dark, so most people probably won’t even take notice of you.”

Perfect. “That sounds just like what I’m after. Thank you, Doug. I really appreciate this, especially on such short notice.” She gave him her email address then ended the call with a promise to send the required information in the next couple of days.

Next, she booked her flight and hotel for Seattle. She still needed to choose locations for the photographs she intended to take for her client. Serena checked the time. Damn. It was getting late, but she decided to focus on her job for at least the next hour before her head hit the pillows.

Then she could determine how best to seduce her husband at an adult sex club.