Page 6 of Savage Temptation (Savage Reign #2)
His appreciation is apparent in the girth of his arousal pressing against my covered folds. The hard line of his jeans offers the promise of a hard claiming tonight. This is all that matters , my heart hums and I listen.
“Jagger,” I murmur against his lips, praying there’s a flat surface somewhere when he skims his finger over the warm flesh of my ass cheek. But he doesn’t stop there. His seeking touch has my heart racing when the rough pad of his thumb finally reaches my throbbing clit.
“Jaggerrr…” I draw out, desperate for the heat and burn he’s stirring to life inside me. My heart pounds as my hands run over the dips and rises of his muscular chest and arms.
Only the soft clearing of a throat pulls us out of our emotional reunion.
“Excuse me. Unless you actually want an audience for where I sense this is going, I think we can hit pause, don’t you?”
I freeze and I physically feel Jagger’s muscles tense under me, too.
“Detective. You’re still here.” Arctic ice gives off warmer vibes than Jagger’s freezing tone. It tells me whoever the lady is, she isn’t romantically involved with Jagger. My heart gives a small quiver of relief at that realization.
If the cold of his words didn’t clue me in, the way his face darkens is another clue these two are not the best of friends. And with that, the bubble that cocooned us from reality bursts.
I sigh and inwardly groan. The real world calls and as good as this feels, the detective is right.
I go to unhook my ankles from around his back, but Jagger quickly grips my nearly bare ass thanks to my costume and anchors me in place.
“No. You stay. Don’t you dare try to move away from me. I’m not letting you go again. Detective, if you don’t mind you can come back and harass me and my brothers later. Deal?”
True to the Jagger I remember, he doesn't mince his words. But ouch.
Worry crawls over me. “Jagger, don’t be rude.” The last thing we want to do is piss off a woman with a gun.
“She can handle it, right, Detective?”
There’s no answer, but from the small glance over Jagger's shoulder, I would say that woman wishes her eyes could shoot daggers.
Despite sounding calm and relaxed, shivers climb the length of my spine.
“Um, we need to talk, so maybe we can pick this up later?” I lean in and touch the tips of our noses before turning a pleading eye on him.
All my circuits are coming back on board and the lust-induced fog that smothered my brain is clearing.
“I’m in trouble and there’s some bad people out there looking for me.
I’m sorry to bring this to you. But I think it has something to do with the overdoses that I saw on the news,” I say in a low tone only he can hear.
His grip on me tightens. “Later. When we are alone. No one can get to you here. My brothers can take over. I’ll call them in.”
“Listen to your girl, Malone. Stop thinking with your dick.”
“Fuck you, Lafleur. You don’t know shit.” Jagger rests his forehead against mine. Long dark hair tumbles over his shoulders, and a few strands over his forehead. He usually wears it pulled back, but I love it loose. I run my fingers underneath and let the silky strands fall away.
“I fucking missed you,” he husks. “And your touch. I dreamed about being able to feel you in my arms one more time.” When his eyes come up to meet mine, there are tears. Seeing them breaks my heart.
I smile weakly. “I’m not going anywhere. If that’s okay?”
I don’t have to hold my breath long for his answer.
The tears fade, and his eyes blaze with a challenge. His dark eyes stare into mine and I shudder from the tingles of electricity. “Don’t even try to leave my side again.”
“Listen to your girl, Malone. Stop thinking with your dick.”
“The detective is irritated. You’ve got her repeating herself.”
They bicker back and forth but I’m stuck on two words that make them sound like old frenemies.
His girl.
My brain grabs onto those two words and feeds them to my heart one at a time.
They make my insides quiver and my heart race.
I peer around his shoulder and lock eyes with the detective who has closed the door behind her.
She’s pretty, younger than I expected now that I’m really looking at her.
Her blond hair is pulled back in a messy braid and she has a no nonsense mask plastered across her heart-shaped face.
And if I didn't know better, there is pity in her eyes. Actually, it’s borderline understanding.
Had she been in love once and they were taken from her?
“You know damn well I know about love, Jagger. So screw you, you insensitive bastard. Don’t start giving me shit when I have enough to put you in the House for the weekend.”
She reaches for the knob on the door and her gun is already in her palm.
I shift my hands from Jagger’s shoulders to his biceps and look him square in the eye, my mouth firming into a tight line telling him not to answer the way I can see he wants to. Which is with a snide remark and to force her out the door.
For a second it looks like he’s going to actually listen and button his lips shut.
“You can try, Lafleur,” he hisses. “You have nothing to hold us on.” I can’t tell if he really hates her or if there’s some kind of frenemy friction going on between them.
“Doesn’t change the fact I would like to see you behind bars.”
The gun in her hand has me side-eyeing them both.
This is it. We are going to be hauled into the NO precinct. My booking photo is going to be me looking like a large yellow bird with ragged feathers sticking out of everywhere thanks to this stupid costume.
At least I will be alive. That Russian and my manager won’t be able to touch us there.
Wait. This is a good thing. “I think we should go with her.”
“That’s not why she’s opening the door, baby. Is it Detective?”
“Sadly, not tonight, asshole. You two need to get out of here and get her somewhere safe. I’ll be in touch. We can talk about the Savages and Euphoria later. I still have questions.”
My brows pull together. Odd. Don’t cops usually want you to come with them? But she’s sending me off into the night with someone she clearly has a beef with.
She steps out the club’s side door, weapon raised and checks both directions of the alleyway.
Jagger turns us around and I shimmy down his massive body wanting my feet firmly on the floor when the cuffs get smacked on.
I wince the second my bare feet hit the cold floor. I suck in air through gritted teeth. I lift one seeing a smear of blood left behind. I must have cut them up while running here.
“What the fuck?” Jagger’s lips press into a white line of anger. Thick brows pull into a frown and I’m hauled right back into his arms and wrapped around his muscular body.
“Clear,” the Detective offers and moves deeper into the darkness ahead of us.
Jagger carries me to a bike I missed the first time I was in this alley. Nearby streetlights catch on the polished black and chrome parts. I know next to nothing about bikes or cars for that matter, but I do know that machine is Jagger’s baby.
I sigh with relief when he places me on the back. The detective comes up beside us and flips out a card, handing it to me.
“Use this if you need it. You, not him.” Her hand comes down on my shoulder and that one connection my full attention swings from Jagger to her.
“I know love when I see it. This man is trouble top to bottom. But he won’t let you get killed. At least not tonight. You need me, call.” I take her card and stuff it into my sequin bra.
“Thank you.” I think. Honestly, she is confusing the hell out of me. Does she hate Jagger or not?
“Before you can ask, we used to be best friends.”
She juts her chin toward Jagger. I wind my arms around his middle and rest my cheek on his shoulder.
“What happened?” I ask them both. It is obviously not the time for a long conversation, but nutshell stories work too. And that is what I get.
Jagger angles his head and speaks over his shoulder.
“She thinks I got her partner and lover killed three years ago…”
“You did,” the detective cuts in sharply.
“... and has taken to making my life miserable ever since,” Jagger continues before he turns over the motor.
And then I can’t hear anything for the roar of the beast between my legs as we tear out of the side alley.