Perfectly Broken (31 page)

“Hookers?”

“No,” Reed said, wishing for the moment his sweet baker was a bit more worldly. “There are high end clubs in the city, ‘members only’ places for the rich and those with particular tastes. They aren’t illegal because everything that happens is consensual and there is no exchange of money for sex.”

“A swingers club?”

“Exactly. Mostly they’re high class. There’s a bar, rooms to just mingle in. People come dressed to impress, and each club has different rules about where you can and can’t be naked.” He drew a deep breath.

“You seem to know a lot about them?”

“I’ve read all the articles you couldn’t.” He cocked his head to the side. “Then there are the playrooms.”

Peyton’s baby blues exploded. “Playrooms?”

“Voyeurs, exhibitionists. There are rooms where couples can have sex while others watch.” He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. “There are rooms for people into S&M, bondage.” He grabbed her hand. “It’s all consensual. These places exist for people to find others who like the same things.”

“Whips, handcuffs, that kind of thing?” she asked nervously, twirling her locket.

“Yeah.” Reed squeezed her hand tighter, hoping to steady her — and himself — then looked outside at the rain smashing against his bedroom window, knowing it was time to face the storm. “About 15 years ago, a female member made a sexual assault allegation at one of these clubs, a very exclusive club in New Orleans, so the police started an investigation. The membership list was leaked. There were many powerful people on the list: politicians, businessmen, professional athletes. My dad’s name was on the list, too. He was a long time member. It was in the paper, on the nightly news.” He felt Peyton’s eyes on him and lowered his head. “The accusation was against my dad.”

Reed turned from the storm and looked into her eyes, finding them focused and steady. But he wasn’t. He began to speak quickly. “They could never prove anything. There wasn’t any evidence. There was nothing to link him. There was no arrest. There were never any formal charges brought. The allegations were completely....”

Peyton kissed him on the lips to calm him down, slowly, deeply, her fingertips circling the back of his neck. “Do you think he did it?”

“No,” Reed said quietly, unsure if that was true. He had no trouble believing his father was an asshole — and an adulterous sex fiend — but he just couldn’t believe his father was an abuser, a rapist.
If my father could hurt a woman, and I’m part of my father, then....
It was too much to bear; disbelief just made things easier. “It’s not like they were in church. They were in a sex club. I’m sure things can easily get out of control or taken too far.” Reed shook his head. “I was 15 when the story broke.”

“How awful for you, your mom,” Peyton said.

“My mom didn’t have any idea he’d been going there. And I was in my teens at a Catholic high school with a father in a sex scandal. It was rough. My dad already had a terrible reputation, and it just made things worse. Most kids’ parents looked at me like I was a freak, and they didn’t want me dating their daughters. Then there were the guys who thought it was cool my dad was into that kind of stuff. Back then, I’d only kissed a few girls and maybe copped a little feel here and there, but then all of a sudden, I’m the son of a sex pervert or God, depending on who you talked to. I didn’t really fit in. And my family never discussed any of this, either.” Reed looked away. “So Heather and I got close.”

“I see,” Peyton said softly.

Reed smiled slightly. “Her dad was on the list, too.”

“I
see
,” she said again, a twinge of understanding this time. “So what happened with your dad?”

“Like I said, there wasn’t any hard evidence, so the police just dropped it.”

“Does he still go to that place?”

“I can’t imagine. My mom says he doesn’t.”

“What about your mom?”

“I used to think she ignored it all and took the high road or some shit.” Reed cracked a smile. “But I’ve come to learn, she didn’t. People may not agree with her choices, but she didn’t take an easy route. She’s stronger than people think. Took some courage to do what she did. She didn’t leave me.”

Peyton let his words sink in, her view of Marion shifting. Maybe she wasn’t just a good-hearted Southern fool hardly exemplifying the “women rule the world” motto she pushed. Maybe instead she was a strong woman who’d made a conscious decision to suck it up and stay, to live with a creep and forego her own happiness to protect her son. Peyton knew she would have made a different decision, but Marion was not a woman to be pitied or ridiculed. The woman’s decisions were her own — not imposed or taken from her — and there’s nothing more powerful than that.

“You said before you’re like your father?”

“Only that I’ve been with a lot of women,” he said, shrugging. “It’s almost like I was supposed to.”

Peyton frowned at his answer. “Do you belong to any of those clubs?”

“No.”

“You don’t belong,” she pressed, “but have you ever been?”

He grabbed his neck. “I went once years ago. I guess I was curious, that’s all — just to see where my dad had been going. It was an upscale place, very nice — marble, wood floors, high ceilings, and....”

“I’m not asking about the decor,” she interrupted.

“I know that.”

Peyton waited a few seconds for him to continue, but he seemed to be stalling. “Who did you go with? What did you do? Did you go into the playrooms? Or just watch?”

“That kind of place just isn’t for me. I’m not shy or anything, but ....”

“Reed!” she snapped, sitting up. “What did you do there?”

“There was a lot of sex going on, all kinds of sex.” He rubbed her hand. “I was asked by several women to do all kinds of things, but I didn’t do anything. I promise you.”

Peyton took a moment before responding, looking out his window at the pouring rain. She, of course, knew all about Reed’s reputation as a player, but there was nothing
ever
about sex clubs. And it made sense he’d go visit the scene of the crime, so to speak; after all, she’d more than once visited the construction site on campus, wondering how different her life may have been if Quinn had stayed with her that night, if they’d both stayed at the frat party, if she hadn’t had one drink. “I believe you,” she said. “I asked only because I need to know what your expectations are.”

“My
expectations
?” Reed gave her a sexy smile, his steel blue eyes now sparkling. “My expectations are pretty simple. I just want to be with you — in every way you’ll let me.”

“I’m fine with that. Just know I won’t be bound or beaten or gagged under any circumstances. So if those are things you like, then I need you to be honest with me about that. I won’t judge you, but I can’t go there.”

“Baby, that’s not my thing at all. I don’t need or want to control you.”

“Good,” she said and cracked a smile, “because I really don’t want to have to call you ‘sir’ or ‘master.’”

“Maybe you should gag me, so I don’t ever say anything stupid.” He gave her booty a tap.

“Now you want to spank me?” Peyton rolled on top of him. “Maybe I’ll tie you up?”

“Anytime,” Reed said, bucking his hips a little. “You can be as rough as you want in bed, but just be gentle with my heart.”

* * *

Dawn came on the fourth day, and Reed drove Peyton back to her house. They sat on her front porch swing, snuggled in each other’s arms, watching a slow, quiet rain marking the end of their long weekend, neither one of them ready to let go, if even for a little while.

“These past three days have been perfect,” she said.

Reed kissed the side of her head. “I wish it didn’t have to end.”

“Me, too.”

“Maybe if we lived together,” he started then saw Peyton stop breathing. “I mean I’ve been thinking maybe you could move in with me. I think my place is the perfect size for us.”

Peyton looked out at the sprawling magnolia tree in front of her house, the wooden columns, the cobblestone path, the wrap-around porch, all holding her memories. “I could never sell this house. It’s all I have left of my family.”

“You wouldn’t have to sell it. You could rent it out?”

“Oh, I could become a landlord? That sounds fun,” she teased. “I don’t see anyone else living here anyway.”

Reed intertwined their fingers. “I’m not opposed to moving in here.”

“And leave your loft?”

“As long as I could hang my Saints stuff somewhere.” Peyton laughed but didn’t otherwise respond, a sudden awkwardness between them. “Maybe it’s too big for the two of us,” he suggested, looking for a way out.

“The thing is, I don’t want to shack up before I’m married.”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” he said. “I think we’re more than that.”

“We are. That’s not the right word, not what I meant. And it has nothing to do with you. I just don’t want to live with someone before getting married. I guess I’m just a little old-fashioned that way.” She twirled her locket, remembering how Gram told her about the excitement she and her grandfather felt when they were first married, having waited until marriage for sex, losing their virginity on their honeymoon, living with another person for the first time, the joy of discovering certain idiosyncrasies about each other, facing the world together.

Reed nodded he understood but wasn’t so sure. His parents didn’t live together before marriage — and maybe a test drive would’ve helped them see how wrong they are for each other. But his parents’ situation was different. “I just thought it would be a good next step for us together. I like the idea of coming home to you every night and kissing you every morning.” Peyton melted into his chest. “I want you with me all the time.”

“We’ve been attached, literally, for three days.” They both laughed. “I really need to get inside, and get ready for my day.”

“Don’t go.”

“I have to,” she said, standing up. “You might want to check your key ring and phone.” Then she headed for the front door, but before going inside, she turned around. “Nooner?”

He smiled. “Definitely.”

“I guess I’m not so old-fashioned after all.” She closed the door and locked it.

Reed looked out at the falling rain, holding all the unpleasantness of work and routines awaiting him. The last three days, doing nothing but holding Peyton in his arms, was a much better use of time and certainly more fun. But there were buildings to build and Bret and Quinn’s house to renovate. He kicked himself for bringing up the idea of moving in together, throwing cold water on their time together, ending it on an awkward note. He should’ve asked for her thoughts first — whether she even wanted to — and not launched into suggesting his loft.
Moron.

His phone dinged. He stood up from the swing and pulled out his phone, finding a text from Peyton.
Check your calendar!
Reed hit his calendar button and found the same entry day after day.
Make love to Peyton.
He smiled and continued to scroll, going a few weeks ahead, finding the entry over and over again. After a few more days, he came upon a new entry.
Peyton’s period — leave her alone, or make love in the shower.

He chuckled and pulled out his keys and started off the porch. He felt something different.
An extra key.
Hopeful, he turned back to her front door. The key fit perfectly. He opened the door and headed upstairs to thank her. Before reaching her room, he decided to check on something, to make sure someone was gone. If he wasn’t going to have the privilege of living with Peyton, then Griffin better not be around anymore — and his shit better be gone, too.

Reed took a quick peek inside his room. It was empty, not a trace of anything. A spring in his step, he headed towards Peyton’s room. “Holy shit!” Reed cried upon entering.

“Took you long enough,” she teased, writhing on the bed in a white lace pearl thong.

He closed the distance fast and ran his fingers across the pearls, Peyton quivering from his touch. He turned her around and admired her from every angle. He made his way down her stomach, reaching the pearls and taking them into his mouth, nibbling on them, finding they were double-stranded. He began to slide them off.

“Leave them on,” she said, reaching for him.

Reed slid back up her body, taking her wrists above her head, and Peyton flashed him a naughty smile. She was ready for him to be inside her, in between the pearls — seemingly not noticing or caring that she was pinned down on the bed. Or maybe it just didn’t bother her anymore. Reed got the message, sliding inside her.

REED WANTED TO
do it in person and wanted to get it done without making a scene. So he figured a public place was best. He thought a bench outside St. Louis Cathedral made sense, with tourists flooding all around Jackson Square, some just stepping off of horse-drawn carriages on Decatur Street, taking in the Cabildo on one side and the Presbytere on the other.

He closed his eyes and waited, remembering his carriage ride with Peyton and their night under the stars, dancing in the moonlight in Audubon Park. He wanted more days and nights like that. But he needed to get this behind him first. He looked up at the tall steeple cascading down over him — though it felt more like a huge smile than a dark shadow, something ironic and also pleasing about being in the presence of God when finally dumping a fuck buddy. The clicking sound of stilettos jarred his mind.

Heather was in a white top without a bra, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, her long, tan legs barely covered by a black-mini skirt. For a moment, Reed remembered the high school cheerleader she once was. But she’d become someone much different now.
How dare she hit Peyton!
This would be so much easier to handle if Heather was a guy — one swift punch to the face would do the trick. He took a few deep breaths to control his anger then cast a wide smile inside, knowing he’d become someone much different, too. He was in love with a girl in running shoes and an apron.

Heather flashed a sexy smile. “Church? This is a new place for us.” She bent down for a kiss.

Reed turned his head away. “I can’t believe you hit Peyton.”