Page 8 of My Ex’s Billionaire Brothers (Forbidden Hearts #5)

THEO

Humid night air fills my lungs, hardly the fresh air I hoped for.

The worn concrete walkway extends along the second floor, its metal railing overlooking a near-empty parking lot below.

Nothing remotely as grand as the balcony at Sins.

A neon vacancy sign buzzes faintly, and beyond that, everything is quiet—almost unsettlingly so.

I needed this calm, this distance from the charged atmosphere in the room.

Inside, Hunter is no doubt tempting Anya into more of his mischievous banter, and Gage is probably pacing our room like a restless guard dog, half expecting trouble.

I do not enjoy lying to the others. There was no urgent call to make, no pressing emails to send.

I simply needed time alone to gather my thoughts.

Gage’s proposal to guide Anya in exploring her hidden desires is uncharted territory for all of us, yet I must concede that I am enticed.

We have done similar things at the club, but never with someone we care for in any real way.

With Anya, we are crossing a line we can’t uncross, and I’m unsure what to think.

Just as I exhale, steeling myself to go back inside, the door behind me opens.

I straighten, turning to see Anya slip out.

She closes the door with care and glances around as if to ensure no one is watching.

Her hair looks slightly tousled, and she wears a simple sweater over her leggings.

In the soft glow of the overhead lamp, her cheeks appear flushed, and her blue eyes dart around, restless.

“Anya,” I say quietly, inclining my head in greeting. “Is everything all right?”

She startles at first, then attempts a smile. “Yes…I just needed some fresh air. Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re no bother.” I hate that she thinks of herself that way. I note her uneasy posture, the way she crosses her ankles as if bracing herself. “It has been quite a day.”

“Your family, you know…you’re all so intense. When you set your mind on something, it’s like you never let it go.” Her voice carries a note of exasperation, yet also a faint admiration.

“We do have a certain zeal, yes,” I admit, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Though, from my perspective, Calvin does a great deal of letting go. He certainly let you go far too easily.”

She blinks, taken aback by my directness. Then, just as quickly, she forces a small laugh. “I wouldn’t say it was easy . He fought to maintain control until the very end.” Her brow furrows. “But…maybe you’re right. In any case, it’s over, and that’s that.”

I study her face in the semi-darkness. Breathtaking, truly. “Calvin is a fool.”

She appears caught by my words. Then she offers a dismissive shrug, turning away from me to rest her forearms on the railing. “He’s the past. And I’d rather focus on what’s next.”

I can practically feel the tension emanating from her. Stepping beside her, I allow my elbow to brush her arm—a gentle, reassuring contact. “What is next?”

“I’m not sure.” Her voice is low, not a whisper, but not solid words either.

“You tell us you want to explore, but you’re uncertain how far to go. The club we own—Sins—is dedicated to the idea of safe exploration. That is what we can provide.”

She fidgets with the railing, biting her lip. “I know.”

I dip my head, considering how best to phrase the next part.

“You see, Sins is about fulfilling curiosity in a controlled environment. For some, it is an outlet for kinks they can’t share anywhere else.

For others, it’s a way to dabble in something new—if only once—so they know whether it resonates with them.

” A hint of a smile tugs at my mouth. “I have witnessed, and at times participated in, nearly every kind of fantasy you might imagine. And if you worry about shocking me, I assure you, I have likely encountered far more scandalous requests.”

“Like…what do you mean?” she asks hesitantly, though her tone suggests she both wants and fears the answer.

My heart quickens at her question. It’s one thing to speak of fantasies in the abstract, but entirely another to share specifics with a woman who may find them alarming or enticing—or both. However, I sense she is searching for honest reassurance that she will not be judged.

So be it.

I clear my throat. “Kinks,” I say, keeping my voice low, “range widely. Some revolve around bondage—ropes, cuffs, and intricate knots. For some, it’s the mere order to hold still that binds them.

Others favor role-play, age play, pet play, costume fantasies.

Then there are those who prefer more straightforward impact play, like spanking or flogging, or perhaps edge play involving heightened sensations.

Some play with food, others use sensory deprivation.

If there is an experience in the human condition, someone somewhere has fetishized it. ”

She stands very still, eyes wide. “I…I had no idea it was that…extensive.”

A wry chuckle escapes me. “Most people don’t, at first. But once they step into the scene, they realize how vast it is. That is precisely why I say you need not fear shocking me, Anya. You can speak your mind, share any flicker of curiosity, and I will not blink.”

She swallows. Her cheeks are bright pink now, and she lowers her gaze to the chipped concrete at our feet. “I’m not sure what I’m into,” she admits, voice trembling with nerves. “But hearing you say things like…spanking or…bondage. It’s overwhelming.”

Overwhelming is a gentle word for how she’s feeling right now. I see it in those damn doll eyes of hers, in the way she nibbles her lip. She wants this.

I take a small step closer, feeling the warmth of her body in the night air. “Overwhelming, yes. But also intriguing?”

“You’re so calm about it,” she says softly. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy,” I say firmly. “At least, it can be, when done with respect and consent. None of us would push you to do anything beyond your comfort.”

“And…are there any of those kinks that you prefer personally?”

The question surprises me, though I should have expected it.

I nod, forcing myself to maintain composure.

“I have my own inclinations, yes. Most dominants do—it’s not only about the safe play we provide for submissives.

Some forms of role-play, certainly. I appreciate bondage done skillfully.

And…impact play is a particular favorite.

” I pause, letting that sink in. “Spanking, to be specific. It can be quite intimate—provided it is approached with care.”

Her pulse is visible at the hollow of her throat, fluttering rapidly. “Sp-spanking?”

A tingle of excitement pulses through me at her halting confession. “It can be a powerful release,” I say, voice soft, “both physical and emotional. If it interests you, perhaps we could explore that together. Carefully, to see if it genuinely resonates with you.”

She hesitates, biting her lower lip. “I…maybe.” A tiny, embarrassed laugh escapes her. “This is so surreal. I’m standing in a motel walkway, talking about spanking with you.”

“Life is full of surprises, I suppose. If I may be so bold…would you like to test it now?” I rest a hand lightly on the railing, my pulse thudding in my ears. “Just a small demonstration, to see if the concept appeals to you in practice as well as theory.”

Her eyes go wide. “Someone could see…”

I glance over the railing. The parking lot remains deserted, save for that stray cat somewhere in the shadows. The nearest room with lights on is several doors away. “The parking lot cat will not judge, and I promise you, if anyone else appears, I will stop immediately.”

She exhales, trembling with nervous energy. “I don’t know…”

I nod. “Then tell me no. I will not be offended. But if you wish to feel a taste of what you might enjoy later, I can oblige you.”

She stands there, indecision warring on her face. “Okay,” she breathes. “I’ll try. Just don’t laugh at me.”

“Never,” I promise, keeping my tone solemn. “Keep your feet where they are, hands on the railing.”

She gulps again, but follows the order. Her round, legging-covered ass is open to me, vulnerable.

Stepping behind her, I rest a gentle hand on her lower back.

Her body tenses under my touch, and I wait, giving her a chance to change her mind.

When she does not protest, I raise my palm, letting it hover for a beat to ensure she feels each second pass.

Then, carefully, I bring my hand down in a light, open-handed tap against her backside. It is not forceful—merely enough pressure to make a gentle thud. The sound seems to echo in the stillness of the night. She gasps, head lifting in surprise, and her fingers tighten around the railing.

I swallow, adrenaline coursing through me as it always does the first time. “How was that?”

She nods, taking a shaky breath. Her pupils are dilated, and a hint of something fiery lights her gaze. “I—I’m fine,” she murmurs, sounding breathless. Her posture remains bent forward, as though she is expecting more.

An electric tension crackles between us. It would be easy—far too easy—to continue, to inch us both down a path that might be exhilarating yet also precipitous. My fingers twitch, and I remind myself that we are in public, however deserted this area may be. We must proceed with caution.

I lift my hand again, just enough to deliver a second tap, still gentle, though perhaps a fraction firmer this time. She makes a soft, startled noise, pressing her hips instinctively back against my palm. My heart seizes at the sight, desire surging.

A moment later, I feel her body stiffen. She inhales a sharp breath, and her eyes lose that hazy look, clearing as if she has awakened from a trance. “I—I can’t,” she says suddenly, pushing away from the railing. Her voice trembles. “Not out here, not yet. I’m sorry.”

“Very well?—”

“I need to go inside,” she mutters, stepping quickly past me.

I let my arm drop to my side, watching her fumble with the door handle. “Of course,” I say softly, ensuring no disappointment seeps into my tone. “I understand.”

She throws me a brief, apologetic glance, then slips back into the motel room, shutting the door behind her. I remain standing there, the night air feeling colder now that she’s gone.

For a long moment, I simply stare at the rusted hinges of the door, reminding myself to breathe. A swirling mixture of triumph and concern churns in my gut. I have tasted just how enticing it can be to guide Anya—and how very easily it might get out of hand.