Page 27 of Tracking Luxe

She had the gall to laugh in his face, brushing sweet liquored air across his cheeks as her fingers danced along his chest and down, down, down until…fuckkkk... he reared up pushing his hips into her hand. Her face was analyzing his question. “Badly?”

Oh, yeah, she did, she was loving torturing him. “Yes. Do it then, free me up, I’ll do you right here, make you feel good won’t I? One come, two, three, I’ll make you forget how to speak English."

Why couldn’t she be as addicted as he was?

Fingers drifted out of his hair, traveled down between them and caught at his crotch so sudden Grinder went numb all over. He wanted to beg her for more, he had no fucking problem with that.

Her hand stopped right there, molding the shape of him and Grinder fell into the abyss, he didn’t even have his mouth on her and he was so far gone she could have done anything to him and he would have thanked her for it. “Finish what you started.” He pinned her with a starved stare.

And right then with her mouth right there in grabbing distance he watched her face pale, the color draining out of her.

“Nathan… I don’t…”

She heaved. Cheeks bulging out. And did it again. Her eyes glazed.

Oh, fuck. Oh, hell no. Shot out of a canon he was up out of the seat in one motion, Luxe in his arms. “Are you going to be sick, love? Hold on to me, don’t puke yet.” He marched through the crowd, not caring who he knocked into. Luxe was retching now into his shoulder, he could picture wearing her lemon scented vomit any second now if he didn’t get her into the bathroom.

Shoulder to door he barrelled in. Announcing loudly. “A dick coming through.” Three sets of startled female eyes over by the row of sinks turned his way, ready to protest no doubt until they saw he carried someone very sick, one of the woman, a helpful pint-size redhead said, “that stall is free.”

“Thanks, darling.” He told her, pushing the farthest one open, it was no bigger than a coffin, but he managed to get them both in, his shoulders brushing both sides of the wall at once. Luxe slid down out of his arms and got into the praying position, Grinder had a second to grab all her hair back in a fist before she unloaded the contents of her belly into the porcelain bowl.

“I’m dying,” she whimpered, dry heaving a handful of minutes later.

“I won’t let you.” Grinder caressed her nape with his free hand. “There you go, love, you get it all out, you’ll feel better.”

“I was poisoned. You saw, right? I was.”

Grinder grinned, kept on rubbing her neck, down her spine, when he guessed she was finished emptying her stomach he put his hands under armpits and lifted her easily to her feet. “I think those sour drinks got you. Let’s get you home.” Swaying unsteadily on her feet, she leaned heavily into his ribs. The gathering of women had grown and all eyes pointed at him, looking adoringly, as if helping a woman while she puked was the greatest thing they’d ever seen.

“Do you need to rinse your mouth, love?” Luxe only groaned and buried her head in his chest, his palm held her waist. That was a no then. Time to get the drunk home.

Only he didn’t know where that was. It was the kind of question friends would already know, as she’d stated they were not friends. Air filled his lungs, keeping an arm around her he directed her outside where the cooler air seemed to stagger her further. He should have cut off her drinking, only he’d wanted to spend time with her. He got them back to the street where he’d parked his bike. Shit, putting her on the back was a bad idea in her state. He found her keys in her backpack, hit the alarm button and headlights up ahead flashed on her car. Getting her into the passenger seat was a chore, she was all grabby hands.

“You smell good, Nathan Frazier the kidnapper.” Smiling he buckled her in. “You’re tying me again?Bastardo.”

“Only a seatbelt to get you home safely.“

Taking a minute to hit off a text to one of the prospects. Slider would come and collect his bike, dropping it off at his place. “I need an address to take you home, Luxe.”

“Jamie.”

The engine idled, he twisted her a look. “I’m staying at Jamie’s place.”

JamiefuckingSteele.

Well, wasn’t that decision made. Grinder was not delivering her to the Kingsmen president, no way no how.

Fuck that. And fuck JamiefuckingSteele.

“We’re not friends,” she mumbled snuggling down into the seat, he turned on the heat for her. “Not sleeping with you, kidnapper.”

“I know, love,” he replied, his chest feeling tight with regret.

And just when his cock was under control she flopped her hand across and gripped his thigh. Raging hard on.

She fell right to sleep and Grinder was left to drive her to his condo with his teeth grit together the entire journey.

Movement upstairs forewarned Grinder to his overnight guest the following morning. His two-bed complex condo near main street wasn’t much to write home about but it was his.