Page 61 of Tracking Luxe

He slammed one last time, her aftershocks intensified when he released his own pleasure, grunting by her ear, enveloped so tightly in his arms she went through the series of body spasms with him.

Pushing aside any doubts for now. As enjoyable as he’d made the sex for her, this between them was ephemeral. As fleeting and misleading as a dream. Sex like it didn’t truly exist in the real world, they’d stepped inside this weird bubble for a second and soon it would be over.

His arm curled around her waist, and she was left with an empty sense of wonder and what the hell had just happened.

Being with him felt a lot like falling and flying.

******

Grinder welcomed the surging dose of adrenalin, letting it coat the back of his throat until he swallowed slowly. It usually, mostly, only came from tracking some dipshit through the state, hounding enemies who owed the MC money until he caught them, only now he was feeling that spike in his brain from watching a woman jump herself back into her tiny pair of panties with a shimmy of her hips dragging them over to cover the full globes of her ass cheeks. Smiling for the movement seemed a fucking shame since he was about to peel her back out of them, not done with her, so not done with her. He wasn’t going to ask why she carried fresh panties around with her. He’d torn her thong off.Don’t fucking ask.

She wasn’t staying the rest of the night.

He wanted her to stay.

“This was fun.” She told him as she twanged her panties in that way that caused his abdomen to tighten with lust.

He laughed closed-lipped. “Fun?”

“You don’t agree,chico?” Every time she called himboyGrinder wanted to reply yes ma’am and then lick her pussy until she cried.

“That wasn’t fun, love. It was fucking amazing. Stay. We can do it all over again. I got a few goes left in me.”

Teasing dark eyes slide over to him by the dresser and he saw her assessing him with the same watchful lust he was feeling, sneaking glances. The thief was always sneaking glances at him like she thought he wouldn’t stand still and let her look her fill. He would.

“Is this where you turn into a needyniña? Are you going to stalk my social media now, Nathan, stand outside my window and serenade me like it’s 1980?”

His lips twitched, arms folded. Any second now he was going to stalk forward and claim those smirking lips, thought she was funny, did she?

“Maybe. So, you should stay and save me the embarrassment of being a needy girl, at least until lunch, let me feed you.”

“I’d really like to.Really. But I’m sitting on thousands of dollars, I need to get it to my buyer.”

He’d been so busy kidnapping and wooing he’d forgotten the real reason she was even in town. His brow puckered in the middle. Fuck.

On went her red dress again over her machine-gun hips he’d grabbed and held onto for hours. He’d had her in so many different positions if his back worked properly when it was time to hunker down while he fixed engines he’d be lucky.

He didn’t regret a thing.

If anything, he was stuck on Luxe more than he had been. The sex hadn’t changed a thing, hadn’t cleaned her from his system.

She made him feel like he was sinking and soaring.

How about that.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Enemies are just friends who haven’t bowed down and submitted yet.” - Grigori, Russian Underboss.

Grigori stepped over the bleeding man with a somewhat grimace of disgust on his tight, sweating face, the day was young, plenty of time for death to stain the air with its pungent scent. He detested blood on his tanMagnanni's. You pay for alligator shoes and expect a great deal of them, to be protected from bodily fluids for one.

Such a messy business,da. But necessary.

Taking a handkerchief from his breast pocket he wiped his face, the heat bothering him more than the dead man at his feet. He longed for the cold of home, for his wife and children and a fine glass of vodka straight from the deep freeze. This shit hole was too hot, too many people and every one of those American’s were grating on the underbosses nerves.

If not for Alexei giving stringent instructions for him to be in Colorado he’d be somewhere more pleasant than a shit hole full of ingrates who couldn’t follow orders.

“Clean this up.” He ordered Borya. Russian was the only language they spoke when alone.

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