The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter thirty-seven.

ALONE IN NATHANIEL'S office, I slide down to the floor, bringing my knees to my chest and crying quietly. My hair hangs in my face, my stomach pinched with dread.

The clock ticks on the wall steadily, the music from the club gently vibrating the carpet beneath me.

When the tears finally dry up, I rest my cheek on my knees, feeling spent.

The door opens and Nathaniel steps inside. I refuse to look up at him, not wanting to show him my tear-streaked, red and blotchy face, instead focusing on the shine of his black dress shoes.

He closes the door and crouches down beside me.

"You deserved to know the truth, little bird." His voice is far softer than it usually is, like he is truly treating me as a broken, fragile bird. It makes me bristle with indignation.

"Ah yes," I chuckle bitterly, "you told me that out of the kindness of your own heart."

"I told you it because I don't think you need to be protected from the truth," he counters. "You're capable of making informed decisions, but not when you don't have the full picture."

I use the wall behind me to shove myself to my feet. He tilts his head back to look up at me—I like this height difference. "You told me it because you couldn't stand the fact that I cared about Reaper. You couldn't control us, so you destroyed what we had."

"I destroyed it?" He rises slowly, inch by inch until he towers above me. He is standing close enough that I can smell a hint of whiskey and mint on his breath. "By exposing the truth? You would have rather lived a lie? We both know that's bullshit."

He's right, and I hate it.

I turn away, scrubbing at my face, trying to erase the evidence of my breakdown. I wipe beneath my eyes, smooth my shirt down, and run my fingers through my hair.

"Wren..." My name is a puff of breath from Nathaniel's mouth.

He moaned that name as he buried himself between my legs—I remember the exact way he gasped it as he filled me.

Although my back is to him, I know he is getting closer. I can feel it in the tingling down my spine, the pit deepening in my stomach, the air that escapes my mouth in short bursts.

His sternum brushes against my shoulder blades just as he lifts a hand and trails it down the sensitive skin on the back of my arm.

I shiver, eyes closing, trying to keep my composure.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

We are done. My deal with Nathaniel is finished, and I am free...aren't I?

His lips ghost along the curve of my neck. The barely-there touch lights up every nerve ending in my body. "What I've dreamed of doing everyday since I last saw you."

He's dreamed of me? The way I have dreamed of him?

Since my night with Nathaniel, he has plagued my sleep, over and over again. I was half-sure that I was losing my mind.

Now I am entirely sure that I have.

"It was one night. It's–It's over." I am trying to convince myself more than him.

"It was one night," he agrees. "And I told myself that one night would be enough, that if I could just get you out of my system..." He groans, burying his nose in the top of my head, then lets out a deprecating, huffing sound that blows against my scalp. "What a fucking joke. One night could never be enough."

My head spins like I'm stuck on a merry-go-round. I step forward, away from his confusing touch, and turn to face him. "What are you talking about, Nathaniel?" What I really mean is: What do you want from me?