Page 40 of Tracking Luxe

No wonder he was rock hard in his black dress pants and the fancy-dudded jacket to match with a navy shirt underneath. He’d even taken off his silver rings, not a hint of the biker about Grinder tonight, he wanted to blend in not stick out like a sore thumb or have any association to his club.

“You look ....” desire in her eyes and Grinder was twice as hard. “Different, not at all like a kidnapper biker.”

He hummed dark and heavy from the back of his throat, liking her appraisal. He’d dress like a jackass every day if he got her looking at him with her own hunger blazing.

“Before we go commit a crime and hopefully escape being murdered with Vodka bottles to the jugular, I have something to say, Luxe, and I’ve been practicing it all day so if I get it wrong you let me know and I’ll practice until I get it right.”

Something tender flashed through her dark eyes.

“I’ve did all this fucking wrong, love. I’m sorry for what I did, for scaring you the way I did, no woman should ever be treated that way, to feel threatened, not for a second. My ego was bigger than my brain and I couldn’t get past what happened between us last year. I should have taken it on the chin that you weren’t interested, that you only wanted what you could steal.”

Her face flushed. “I didn’t----”

“I’m not judging, love, we all have questionable things we do for a living. What I regret is the way I’ve gone about pursuing you. But if you’d give me a second chance, I’d like to have a go at making this right.”

“You do pick your moments, don’t you?” her cheeks stained red, her eyes unwavering from his. Grinder took both as a good sign, he was desperate enough to hold onto any positive sign she was in a forgiving mood.

“If I’d done it another way, you’d be making my back bleed now, I’d know what your tight, little pussy tasted like, wouldn’t I, Luxe? You would have given it to me and I’d know instead of it driving me mad to get at you, trying to do the right thing and not use my fuck to tell you how sorry I am.“

Her breathing turned erratic and thank god, she was showing some effect or Grinder would feel like a big, dumb oversharing fucker.

“You’re going to like me before the night is over, Luxe.”

She laughed lightly and edged him back, a little black purse caught tightly in one hand, he placed a palm to the dip in her back, leading her down to his bike. “Are you okay on my bike?” he was eyeing the shortness of her dress and regretting not bringing his truck instead.

“It’s not my first bike ride,chico.” And to prove it she didn’t even wait for him to climb on before she straddled the seat.

Fuck. She gave him a glimpse of beautiful bare thighs, the dress rode right up and up almost giving him a peek at her panties.

Keep it together, bastard. He was really being tested here. They were about to walk into the Russian’s residence, sight unseen and into the unknown, now was not the time to let his dick steer the ship.

Climbing on, she shuffled forward and molded her body to his back.

Grinder groaned low and heavy.

“Something wrong, Nathan?” amusement licked through her voice-box. Oh, he just knew she was loving this.

Oh, she knew what she was doing threading her fingers around his waist.

“You’re going to like me, love.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Attraction and danger go together like Luxe and Grinder.” - Luxe

She shouldn’t care her heart sped up listening to his sweet, sincere sounding words. At least she couldn’t pretend indifference to what his intentions were. The kidnapper wanted to do dirty, nasty things to her.

And she was crazily thinking of allowing it. Three and four and five times until she was sore and satisfied.

The thrill running through her body had nothing to do with the impending danger she was currently edging precariously close to as she mingled in the growing crowd of criminals. And all to do with the knowledge Grinder had laid all his cards on the table.

She was turning into a straight up junkie for his fingers touching her, even lightly, it felt like being branded. A hand on her thigh while he’d rode them here. Fingers around the back of her neck right before he’d sent her into the party five minutes ahead of him.

The place between her thighs sought fulfilment, wanted filling so bad it was a temptation not to pull him into a dark corner, despite the severity of the job they were here to do, and to indulge in all the desire promised in his hands.

It was first-class eyefucking.

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