Page 29 of Tracking Luxe

“I wouldn’t shame you for something we both wanted to happen, love. Tell me to sit my ass down so you can writhe on top of me again and I will. I meant what I said.” He had to gulp his coffee or his worked-up body was going to keel over and the way she was glaring at him with the fork poised at her mouth she was likely to stab him.

Fuck. Why was he so attracted to that? He’d watched her take that bar chick down a peg last night and his dick nearly hit the underside of the table with arousal. To see her standing her own was a turn on.

“You can use me.”

“Gracias. But no.”

A thief and a liar. Grinder twitched a smile and refilled her empty cup, making sure to lean over her so he could say by her ear. “Your eyes are practically begging me but that maddening pretty little mouth won’t ask me for it.”

“Keep dreaming, kidnapper.” The woman he saw put another chick in her place last night was back in charge, her face closed off, eyes flat. And still he wanted to eat her alive.

He didn’t like the note of frost in her voice and he had ways to overcome that in time.

“It’ll happen.”

“I think the altitude has messed with your brain too long, kidnapper.”

“Grinder.”

“Nathan.”

He sighed hard enough to blew down an entire forest, before he shifted his head looking at her directly, she licked the corner of her lip and he felt it right there, right there. “Are you being difficult on purpose to drive me insane?”

“Sí,” she grinned. “And it’s working.”

They still had business to talk about, having been too busy being used like a bull last night, he still wanted to know the what’s and why’s about last night, so he let it drop for now. “Tell me about the Russian you were hiding from in my mouth.”

Grinder released a pent-up breath, before putting space between them, thankful he was wearing gray sweatpants instead of jeans, his dick was thick and heavy, and he didn’t see it changing anytime soon, not with Luxe in his apartment eating his food and looking the way she did. He wanted to get on his knees in front of her, peels off her jeans and show her how sorry he was for everything by using his tongue to make her babygirl-whimper.

Focus, dickhead.

He leaned on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. There was nothing good about being mixed up with the Russians and all his instincts were flaring to the forefront to get her out of trouble if she was------

“Oh, them,” her white teeth nibbled on a piece of toast, giving him her full attention, he couldn’t wait to hear this. “They have something I want. And since you’re desperate to make amends, I need you to help me steal it back.”

CHAPTER NINE

“I hope I’m the Bond villain in this covert mission.” - Grinder

Switching off the engine, Grinder swung his leg over the bike, leaving his helmet on the handlebars, he yanked his beanie hat from his pocket, shoving it down to his ears and strode to the main entryway inside the clubhouse. Over the last few weeks he’d been absent more often than not, he felt a twinge of guilt about it.

He wasn’tthatunreliable guy.

He was the guy his patched in brothers could count on no matter what and this business with Luxe had taken his focus in spectacular easy form, but hey, sometimes kidnapping got in the way of daily life, he just had to roll with those punches and carry on.

There was no dumbfuck to blame but the guy in the mirror.

Shaking his head, the familiar sounds and scents hit him stepping inside, he hung a right and entered the main room. A giant rectangular space with a wall of six-foot high windows all along one side looking out into the compound forecourt.

The couches were just as old as ever, the coffee tables scuffed to hell from all the boots that got rested on them, the rugs had seen better days and there was always a litter of food debris and drinks on most every surface if the prospects hadn’t gotten around to clearing things away, but he always felt at home.

On the big TV screen mounted on the far wall Sports Center was the only channel he and his brothers acknowledged existed, no CNN bullshit for the outlaws, why would they wanna watch the news when they made their own most days and anyway, he reckoned his Pop watched enough news for everyone, it was his father’s jam.

Only on occasion did the boys and he flip channels to that foodie show Tiny used to love, in remembrance of their fallen brother. Damn, some days Grinder missed that big idiot more than most. Tiny had been built like a brick shithouse and was the gentlest giant who once had ambitions to open his open grub place one day.

Just recently Rider had added Tiny’s name plaque to the wall of fallen brothers in the hallway. He was only the second brother Grinder had lost since patching into theSouls. He hoped to God it was the last.

Death was a bitch.