His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(47)
Author: Shayla Black

“No!” she gasped. “Stop it! You can’t do this.”

Her little voice tugged at him, sounding so confused and scared, deflated all the arousal and confidence he’d been building. Like a pin into a balloon, it popped, burst.

“Please . . .” she cried out.

Joaquin flinched.

“Shit. Oh hell.” He tried to hold her against him, soothe her. Guilt gouged out a mountain of regret inside him. “I’m sorry.”

She shoved away from him, looking at him with accusing eyes as she yanked her clothes back into place. “Don’t touch me.”

He shook his head. What the fuck kind of monster was he, to smack her ass and enjoy it so much? Maybe he hadn’t done it right. Or he’d misunderstood what he’d seen earlier. It was entirely possible that he’d liked the idea of spanking her so much he’d projected his desires on Bailey. Whatever. She obviously didn’t want this.

As her whole body twitched with the sound of her sobs, he ached to reach for her again and offer shelter. But she wanted nothing to do with him.

He backed away, then turned for the door. “I really am sorry.”

With a curse, he forced himself to walk away from her. As he shut the door behind him and locked it again, breathing hard, his gut soured more. Every footfall seemed to weigh a hundred pounds more than the last. Something in his chest actually hurt.

As he slammed into his little cubicle of a room, he marched to the bed, sat down, and thrust his head in his hands. Jesus, had undercover missions and years of cloak-and-dagger shit, coupled with so much fucking death, finally warped him?

Chapter Eight

THE following morning, Joaquin was pacing outside Thorpe’s office, just waiting. Over a mostly sleepless night, he’d made some decisions. He didn’t relish them, but last night’s spanking debacle more than suggested that he’d come unhinged somewhere along the way and needed to get his shit straight before he messed up Bailey’s life any more.

Finally, Thorpe sauntered down the hall, heading for his office. He and Sean walked side by side, heads turned in conversation. Suddenly, they stopped. Callie, trailing behind and digging through her purse, smiled up at them both. They each took a turn bestowing a kiss on her red, glossy lips before she headed deeper into the club with a jaunty wave. She stopped short when she spied him. Joaquin winced. He probably looked like shit. It was how he felt.

“Is Bailey still in her room? Can I see her?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “I managed to scramble together a bagel and some fruit for her. Would you mind taking it to her?”

Callie cocked her head. “Sure. You don’t want to?”

“It’s better if I don’t.”

She raised her brows in question, but didn’t comment. “All right.”

As she doubled back to the little kitchen area, Thorpe glowered. “What’s wrong?”

“Did something happen with Bailey’s would-be killers?” Sean asked.

No, they’d been quiet for hours now, and he didn’t like it. But at this point, he’d just add that to his shit list and move on.

“Nothing. This is . . . personal. Can we go in and shut the door?” Joaquin gestured to Thorpe’s office. He knew he’d better fess up to last night’s fiasco. Maybe damage control now would save his ass later.

“Sure.”

Dominion’s owner looked relaxed enough, but Joaquin sensed his sudden tension. As he made his way to a chair in the office that oozed with sleek sophistication, Sean closed the door. The echo resounded in the otherwise silent room. Joaquin heard the mental tick-tock in his head as the seconds slipped away. Their expectant looks weren’t getting any less tense. Might as well cough the truth up before Bailey told Thorpe a tearful tale and the man threw him out or otherwise intervened.

“When Bailey and I arrived, you told me that everything at Dominion was consensual, that she had to be here of her own free will within forty-eight hours. I fucked up last night and I wanted to tell you that I’ll make it right.”

Sitting now, Thorpe drilled him with a glare. “How exactly did you fuck up? Explain.”

The man’s disapproving tone made Joaquin tense. “I was alone with Bailey last night and I lost my head. I—”

“You didn’t force the lass, did you?” Sean asked sharply.

“Are you asking if I raped her? No,” he barely managed not to shout, then searched for calm and a delicate way to explain. But he’d always been short on diplomacy and long on brute force. “I . . . I understand that you two are Callie’s Doms. I know your members here practice BDSM. I get it in principle.”