Page 155 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“I don’t think you’re looking for a dance partner,” he grunts. “So why don’t you tell me what you really want?”

“I promise, I just wanted to dance!” I hear the way my voice pierces the air and I hate myself for it. But it really is hard to breathe right now, and for as turned on as I am by his alpha badass kitsch, I am a teeny bit scared of him snapping my arms out of their sockets.

“You think I’m some kind of fucking idiot?” he hisses, tightening his grip. “Because I can’t think of a single reason why you’d be up here right now…” he pauses, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Unless you’re a cop. Is that it? Are you here to investigate my operation, sweetheart? You looking to make a name for yourself down at the precinct to prove your worth to the clowns you work with? You got cause for being here right now? If so, you’d better fucking arrest me. If not, then get the fuck out of my club,” he seethes.

“It doesn’t seem like you want to let me go,” I rasp, my body pinned in the most delicious way possible.

His lips curl into a sneer. “I never said you weren’t hot as fuck. And I’m a guy pressed up against you. Can’t blame me for taking advantage of the situation. Now, are you gonna read me my rights or not? I suspect the answer is no because this place is tighter and cleaner than a million virgins.”

I shake my head. “I swear I’m not a cop,” I whisper.

“And you really only wanted to dance?” He quirks an eyebrow. “My instincts are pretty fucking awesome and I’m not buying that shit.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Can you ease off me, please? I can’t really breathe.”

“You gonna pull a gun on me if I do?”

“I don’t have a gun. I told you, I’m not?—”

“A cop, yeah, I get it.” He stares at me for a second, then pulls away.

I immediately wish he was blanketing me again. God, I’m twisted.

“You know what I’ll do if I find out you’re lying?” he hisses.

My mouth is drier than the Mojave right now, and it’s not out of fear, but from sheer animal lust. I shake my head.

He smirks at me. “Nothing, because then you’d have something on me. See how that works? I don’t know who you’re used to working with, but I guarantee I’m not like anyone else.”

Oh no, you most definitely are not. I bite down on my lower lip, trying hard to look as seductive as possible. “So, are we cool now? How about that dance?”

“As the owner, I don’t typically intermingle with the guests.”

“But you want to make an exception,” I say, twisting a lock of hair around my finger, forcing my lips upward into a coy smile. “Right?” I sway next to him, brushing my chest against his. I almost expect him to recoil, but he stands perfectly still, still staring at me with curiosity.

“There are a lot of guys downstairs you can dance with,” he murmurs.

“I know those guys,” I say. “They’re all cut from the same cloth and I wanted something different tonight.” My breath hitches as goosebumps splay across my skin under his heated gaze.

“You got involved with my business.” His face darkens. “I don’t appreciate it when people interrupt my meetings.”

“It didn’t seem like your meeting was going to get very far, anyway,” I purr, flipping my hair over my shoulder. At this point, I need to make him believe that it’s him I want, not information, especially since he already has zero trust in me. And the way his eyes are stripping me bare right now, I seriously doubt he’s thinking about that meeting anymore. And since I have no visual on the kingpin, I’m just as clueless as I was before about the whereabouts of the Becerra Cartel.

The thugs who were ready to attack me a few minutes ago weren’t in any of the pictures Nate gave me to study. As far as I know, they could be part of any crew…any crew with a taste for blood, that is.

Things could have gone down a lot differently if Sergio hadn’t come out of his office in time. But he’s here now.

And we’re alone, for better or worse.

I’m no closer to finding out his intentions for our nightclubs or who he’s aligned with, but I’m damn near to the point of exploding from the rush of desire coursing through me.

“Should I have saved your life before?” he asks, brushing his fingertips over my bare shoulder. “Are you worth it?”

“You have no idea how much,” I reply in a breathless voice. Oh my God, who am I? I’m not the girl who does the whole flirting thing. I don’t get that fluttery feeling in my gut when a guy makes sexy innuendoes. I don’t fall for the ‘come hither’ look.

But something about this guy, this alleged dangerous and calculating man, makes me quiver and quake like a teenage girl with a crush.

“You’re gonna have to prove it to me,” he growls, pushing me against the wall and sliding himself between my legs.

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