“T.J.!”

Shit. He snapped out of the memory and frowned up at Shay. She stood beside the light switch, her hair more frazzled than it was moments ago, her brown eyes tired. “Can you help me pack up?”

He shot a glance over his shoulder to the now empty room. Seconds ago, naked bodies had writhed in wanton abandon behind him. The sex swing had been in use, the space filled with chatter and sexual delirium.

He was losing his goddamn mind.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and slid from the stool, thankful for the bar that currently hid the dying bulge in his pants. “What needs to be done?”

Shay looked at him, really looked at him. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth set in a tight line. “Where the hell have you been the last three hours?”

He broke eye contact, the uncomfortable shiver of exposure drifting down his spine. “I guess I got caught up in my thoughts.”

“About your wife?” She grabbed a yellow cloth from the counter and began polishing the bar.

“About life in general. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He strode for the first private area and flicked on the fluorescent light, not in the mood to talk. The large bed in the middle of the room was mussed, the cushions scattered in varying positions on the mattress and floor. One by one, he picked them up, removing their cloth covers and throwing the material toward the doorway. He didn’t usually partake in cleaning. The contracted business they paid handsomely for privacy’s sake would be here in a matter of hours. He just needed an excuse to keep away from Shay and her questions.

The woman was a pit bull. A beautiful, sassy pit bull who should have her hands full with her new boyfriend Leo, instead of trying to ride T.J.’s ass about his divorce.

“Leo and Brute are on the way down,” she called from the main area. “They want to speak to you before you leave.”

He withheld a sigh and scrubbed both hands down his face. “About?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing intrusive.” Her slight frame filled the doorway. “It’s business. My business, actually. I came up with a few ideas for the Vault and they want to speak to you privately about it.”

Damn it. It was God knows when in the early hours of the morning. He didn’t have the brain capacity to think of anything but Cassie. All his mind revolved around were blue eyes, soft curves and a gorgeous smile.

Shay cocked her hip against the door frame. “Can I ask you something?”

No. Hell no. He didn’t want to talk. Not about work or life. Especially not about love. “I’m tired. Can we do this later?”

“I’m worried about you.” Her soft footfalls brushed against the carpet as she strode toward him. “I didn’t realize you were stuck in a bad marriage.”

“I wasn’t stuck.” The need to defend Cassie was instantaneous. Painfully so. “It wasn’t bad either.”

“Then why?” She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Neither did Leo or Brute, and that was okay. Their perception of his relationship wasn’t important. They were his closest friends, but in contrast, Cassie was his world. The problems that had led to their divorce were private. He wouldn’t betray her, even now when they weren’t together anymore.

“It’s complicated.” He bide his time, yanking the fitted sheet off the bed and balling it before launching it toward the pile of cushion covers near the door.

“That I can understand. Especially when I assume sexuality played an integral role.” She strolled for the bedside table and flicked off the lamp. “But if it wasn’t bad, why the divorce?”

“Presuming anything in this lifestyle and working environment is dangerous, Shay.” His tone was authoritative. Annoyed. Something he didn’t show often. “Misconceptions and thoughtlessness can get you in a lot of trouble.” He knew from experience.

“Okay…” She pulled back in offense and strode for the door. “Point taken.”

Great. Now, he not only felt like shit, he felt like an asshole too. “Shay, wait.” He jogged after her. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m good. Promise.”

She raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “I was only trying to help.”

The door from the entry creaked open, burying the conversation. At least he hoped so. The sound of heavy footsteps reached them moments before Leo and Brute strode into the main Vault of Sin room.

“Is this a bad time?” Leo asked, his jaw tight, his gaze locked on Shay.

“We’re all good.” Her tone said otherwise as she sidled up to Leo and placed a kiss on his lips. “I’ll go upstairs so the three of you can talk.” Without another word, she sauntered from the room, closing the door behind her with a harsh clunk.

“Why did she look pissed off?” Leo asked.

“Doesn’t she always look like that?” T.J. rested his hip against the side of the tan leather sofa in the middle of the room.

Brute gave a halfhearted snicker. “Yep. She’s either pissed or up to something. Neither look is comforting.”

“Maybe if you quit giving her hell, she’d quit sharpening her claws.” Leo leaned against the back of the sofa. “Just admit you love riling her.”

“You know what I’d love?” Brute flashed his teeth in a vicious smile. “I’d love to see you and Shay interact without your dick involved. Get a room. Go on vacation. Just keep your lily-white ass outta my face.”

“Jealous much?”

“Fuck y—”

“Come on, guys.” T.J. was too tired for this. “Shay said you have something to speak to me about.”

Leo smirked, claiming victory over the argument.

“Don’t preen like a peacock,” Brute demanded. “Now you’ve gotta explain your crazy girlfriend’s fucked-up ideas for our damn sex club.”

T.J. closed his eyes, letting exhaustion take hold. He didn’t have the strength to participate in shenanigans tonight. He didn’t even have the will to smile.

“Relax.” Leo nudged his shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”

Brute cleared his throat. “Depends on your perspective.”

“Just spit it out.” T.J. scrubbed a hand along his jaw, across the harsh stubble that reminded him he hadn’t shaved in two days. “What is Shay up to?”

“She had a few ideas to increase attendance in the Vault.”

“The main idea being a dress-up party,” Brute drawled.

“What?” T.J. loved Shay, but people dressing up as Fred Flintstone or Superman was not the type of professional image he wanted for their club. Having girlfriends or lovers involved in the decision-making process of their business wasn’t something he approved of either. That’s why Cassie had always been a silent partner.

“It’s a fucking masquerade party, you idiot.” Leo shot Brute the bird. “It’ll give those who are interested in playing but reluctant to be seen in this type of environment a chance to remain anonymous.”

“I’m listening.” T.J.’s tiredness abated somewhat. The idea could have merit. Maybe. He jerked his chin in Brute’s direction and was immediately pinned by his friend’s scowl. “I gather you’re against the idea.”

“The club has never been about games or playing to me. It’s a lifestyle choice. Either own up to your proclivities, or fuck off and go to another club—one that doesn’t pride itself on integrity and the privacy of all our members.”

The reminder of other clubs made cement solidify in T.J.’s gut. He’d been there, done that. It hadn’t been pretty. “Just because you’re out and proud doesn’t mean everyone else has to be. Some of the people interested in the lifestyle aren’t willing to risk losing family or friends if they’re caught.” He knew that all too well. “And others have their religion and employment to think about.”

“Don’t get me started on religion.”

“Or anything else that doesn’t gain your approval,” Leo muttered.

“So you are against the idea?” T.J. asked. Brute wasn’t pro anything. He was the glass-half-empty kind of guy. The one who took pleasure in making others fail. He was brutal, thus the nickname.