Page 156 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Oh Lord, yes.

Fuck dancing.

Let’s just stand here…forever…

He runs a hand down the side of my neck, gently fisting the hair on the back of my head. And the tingles that follow?

They don’t just swirl in my belly.

They command my entire body.

“So, dancing,” he says, his lips crooking upward. “That’s what you want to do?”

The lump in my throat is so large, it takes effort to nod my head.

He hovers over me, his lips close enough to mine that I can bite them. The seconds later, he pulls away and motions to the stairs. “After you.”

Shock settles into my bones since dancing…fully clothed…was not really on the forefront of my mind.

And judging by the thickness pressed against my leg, it doesn’t seem to be on his, either.

But dancing it is.

Any excuse to keep myself close to him.

You know, just in case anyone else shows up for a ‘meeting’ and I can link him to the Becerra Cartel.

I lace my fingers with his, flashing him a sly smile as I lead him to the staircase and slowly walk down the steps toward the main club floor.

Yeah, sure. I’m all about digging for information on the Becerra Cartel right now.

Digging into Sergio is more like it.

Once we’re on the main floor, he takes the lead and snakes an arm around my waist, guiding me to a darkened area of the dance floor. “I don’t like to be in the spotlight,” he murmurs against my ear as he slides his hand onto the small of my back. Our movements are fluid, we’re fused together, grinding and swaying to the sultry beats. I wrap my arms around him, trailing one hand down his muscular back as my own back arches. His cock hardens as I rub myself against him, shifting my hips against his, rocking to some tune playing in my head, not the crazy pulsating beat that has faded to the background.

Our hands grope, our bodies gyrate, and I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt more alive and alert.

Good God, if this is how he moves with clothes on, imagine how he’d ride me while I’m face-down in his bed…

“Are you gonna tell me your name? Or are you just about the anonymous torture?” He mumbles against the side of my hair.

“Torture?” I tilt my head back, widening my eyes like I don’t know exactly what he’s insinuating.

“Your body. Your face,” he says, cupping my chin. “You’re fucking gorgeous from head to toe.”

I allow myself a self-satisfied smile. Looks like his self-control is waning.

I bet I could get him to tell me anything right now.

Anything…

“Names can mess everything up,” I say with a playful grin. “Don’t you think? Makes everything so real. Besides, I haven’t decided ifyou’reworth it.”

When his hand lightly grazes my ass, it’s a warning for me to push it away, to knee him in the groin, to stomp on his foot.

But I ignore the flashing red lights and let it happen.

Until he drops it like he’s just stuck it over an open flame. He steps back with a cocky grin on his face. “I guess it’s good that I decided for you, then.” He sweeps a hand through his thick, longish dark hair. “And if you’re not a cop, you’ve got some other agenda that you’re baiting me for. So why don’t you take it to the bar, have a drink on me, and enjoy the rest of your night?”

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