Chapter 15 Back in the Club #2
I had been in a position where my body was not considered my own.
Never again would I allow a man in power to take autonomy from a woman if I knew about it.
At the same time, there was something magnetic about Grant Black that I kept allowing myself to be drawn into.
It was obvious he didn’t support Andrea in his trafficking, even if he helped him make money with the sales.
There must be something Andrea had on him that forced Grant to go along with his fucked-up auctions.
“Shit,” I snarled, capitulating despite myself. “You have one feckin’ song to convince me not to toss you out on your ass like you deserve.” Switching our grips, I dug my nails into his wrists hard enough to make his brow wrinkle in discomfort. “And you better not make me regret it, puppy.”
Every interaction was like a game of chess, both of us moving to win against the other.
As usual, Grant didn’t do what I expected.
He snatched my watery scotch off the table, lifting it to his full lips to throw it back with a quick jerk of his head, and set the glass slick with condensation back on the watery ring it created.
I blinked and he was standing beside me, effectively blocking my way and line of sight to the dance floor again.
The height difference of the booth elevated on its own platform put my head just below his chest, so I only had to tilt my head a little to meet his blazing stare.
Grant bent down to grip my thigh, wrapping his fingers around the inside of it, and jerked my leg off the seat to turn toward him.
“What the–” I didn’t get to finish my ‘what-the-fuck’, because he then hooked both hands behind my knees and yanked me the rest of the way off the seat to wrap around his waist. He straightened from the slight bend and used one hand to pull my arm over his shoulder.
The other hand slid under and supported under my ass with ease.
I would never say this aloud, but… it was fucking hot that Grant could manhandle me like this.
My distressed black jeans accommodated the spread and let me press myself close enough to feel the hard ridge straining against the front of his pants.
My scowl over his shoulder met the amused expression on Kent’s stupid face.
Of course, he was one of the guards on duty tonight; I hadn’t even realized, stewing in my bad mood before Grant showed up.
What an act of betrayal, letting him weasel his way into another chance.
I flipped Kent off, bringing another chuckle to his smug lips as Grant carried me further into the crowded dance floor.
“Don’t think I’m lettin’ you off the hook,” I grumbled, not thinking Grant would actually be able to hear me over the pulsing electronic beat loud enough to vibrate my bones.
But his chest shook in a laugh, and his arms squeezed tighter for just a moment before loosening to let my feet drop to the floor.
I may have been sorely out of place in my slouching long-sleeved pink shirt, shredded black jeans, and Converse, but the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the room made my cheeks blush hot.
Instead of letting me go entirely, Grant pulled me close and smoothly slid his thigh between mine.
His hands guided my arms to rest on his shoulders, and I buried my fingers in the hair along the nape of his neck.
It had grown out a little in the weeks since we’d first met.
And the fact I noticed that immediately made me blush even more.
At this rate, I was gonna burst into flames with embarrassment.
Grant’s hands spread across my back and cemented our fronts together, swaying to the sensual beat of the music as bodies writhed around us. “Tick-tock, puppy. I said one song. Tell me whatever you need to tell me so I can move the fuck on.”
A mischievous light sparked in his eyes behind those innocent-looking glasses.
I wasn’t fooled; this guy was so calculating and methodical it disturbed me a little.
He probably didn’t even need those glasses.
They just made him look like someone who couldn’t throw a punch.
But I felt the strength in how easily he hoisted me off the booth, and his hard abs pressed against my body as we danced.
Grant was dangerous in so many ways, but I was too fucking stupid to just kill him and carry on with my life.
He bent closer to my left ear. “You think this is an appropriate place to talk business?” Amusement deepened his voice.
In this position, my face was pressed close to the crook of his neck, and I took a deep, involuntary breath of his spice-and-woodsy scent.
“Also, you said I have one whole song. So I’m going to savor this for the next two and a half minutes. ”
The cocky response lit my temper like he shot me with a fucking flamethrower.
I began to thrash in his hold in an attempt to disentangle myself.
“Fuck you, asshole! Feckin’ manipulative bastard, I can’t believe I–” My nails lengthened into claws that dug into the back of Grant’s neck, hoping to loosen the arms trapping me, when an even more interesting response had me stilling.
His pupils blasted open, and his nostrils flared as he breathed in deep enough to expand his whole chest. Wetness on my fingertips smeared across his skin and dragged bloody trails across both sides of his neck, the small space I’d managed to put between us nonexistent again as he yanked me tighter into his arms. The blast of neon colors from lights shining down on the floor, combined with his intense expression, made Grant look like some kind of demented techno god, and I was right in his sight to be smitten down. I braced to defend myself.
“I’m not letting you go.”
It wasn’t so much that I heard the words over the deafening music and voices chattering around us, but I felt them rumble against my chest as I read his lips.
My head was a jumbled mess of arousal, confusion, and disbelief that this guy wouldn’t just fuck all the way off and leave me alone.
Things were so much simpler before Grant Black came along.
I hunted sexual predators online and protected people more prone to being trafficked in Vegas.
I didn’t need something as frail and weak as love to deal with on top of it all.
Grant’s nose pressed to the pulse point just below my jaw, and his chest filled with another breath like he was trying to inhale every part of me into his lungs.
A low groan slipped from his lips. “I belong to you, Lore.” He nuzzled as close as possible, nudging the lock of hair away from where it covered my ear to nip the lobe.
“And you belong to me. Ever since that first time in your office, I think I knew. You couldn’t keep your delicious scent from me even with that horrible pheromone blocker.
I’m sorry it took this long to catch up to what my primal already accepted.
And I’m sorry it took so long to find you. ”
Tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them.
I spat a curse in Irish and jerked my head away as far as I could.
Fuck this guy for making me cry like this!
But I couldn’t bring myself to escape the strong circle of his arms locked around me without using excessive force.
“Nothing about you is part of my plans, you know that, right? I’m not going to drop everything and fall into your arms so feckin’ easily.
And I’m not gonna be some baby machine pumping out kits, I don’t care how much of a sweet-talker you are. ”
I could feel his lips curve into a smile against the skin at my throat.
“I would never expect that from you. Although…” his voice trailed off in a teasing tone.
This wasn’t the version of Grant I’d faced before.
Where did this playful side come from? “I could be persuaded to join some of your cam sessions. Actually, I’d be offended if you didn’t invite me.
And I really do need to chat with you privately.
Don't you have one scheduled for tonight?”
A harsh snort left my lips, but my mind was already churning with all the things we could do together.
All the games we could play… it almost had me panting like I was in heat.
I turned my face toward his, giving my best look of annoyance.
“We’ll see,” I answered in a haughty tone.
“You may need to try out like the rest of my collabs.”
It was meant to be a joke, something to tease Grant in return. But the look that darkened his face like thunderclouds rolling in was wholly possessive. “I’m the only one who’s taking your body from now on. Unless you want to be getting rid of more dead bodies than you already do.”
The threat had me wriggling in his grasp. “I guess we’ll have to find out if you can cut it.” I nipped under his jaw with sharpened fangs, making his breath catch in his throat. The low growl rumbling in his chest was cute. “Are we going back to my place, then?”
“To talk?”
“Sure. Among other things, if you’re lucky.”
Grant’s lips shifted where they pressed against the shell of my ear. I imagined it was a shit-eating grin curling them upward. “Foxes are always lucky.”
The line to get into The Masked Merrow still wrapped around the corner three storefronts down, and almost every head turned when my bike roared up to park at the curb in front of its doors.
Grant seemed uneasy, standing beside one of the bouncers with his arms crossed.
Taylor’s helmet was wedged under one elbow with the Riot logo barely peeking out.
I could only imagine the ribbing he had to endure when he went up to the office to ask for it, and I smirked in the safety of my own helmet.
Grant probably predicted I would anyway, because he pointed at me with a stern expression as if to tell me, “Don’t even start it. ”
I gestured to my own helmet and pointed to his.
Grant seemed to understand my meaning, lifting his and shoving it onto his head with a frown.
My arms folded and tucked under my chest as I leaned forward onto the handlebars, watching him fiddle with the clasp beneath his chin and move it around until he was comfortable.
He was kind of cute like this. I didn’t need to see his face to tell he had reservations about being on my motorcycle.
A little beep indicated he had connected our Bluetooth mics with the button on the side of the helmet.
“Are you getting on, or what?” I patted the tiny, black leather seat behind me with a gloved hand.
I’d put on my riding jacket that I kept tucked into the minuscule storage space under the Ducati’s cowl and zipped it all the way up to my chin.
The small amount of exposed skin between my jaw and the collar bothered me, even with the heavy-duty makeup covering all the bite scars.
Grant shook his head, but slowly walked up to me. “How do I get on? That seat is so small it could hardly hold a child, not that I would recommend one on the back of that death machine.”
My laughter filled the tiny space. “Come on, don’t be a pussy!
Just come around on the left side.” Grant’s head swiveled to check for traffic in the road—of which Taylor had ensured there would be none with the heightened security, but he didn’t know that—before stepping off the sidewalk and walking around to my left side.
“Put your left foot on the peg and a hand on my shoulder–” I reached for his left hand and placed it for him, holding onto his elbow to pull him closer as I coached him “–and just throw your leg over… there you go!”
He followed my prompts, the bike jostling slightly with his extra weight as he settled behind me. Even without looking back I could feel his stiff, hesitant posture as he tried to make as much space between us as possible. I chuckled low and reached back for his thighs with both gloved hands.
The indignant squawk that came through the helmet’s mics when I jerked him snug against my back had me laughing even louder.
His discomfort with being on the speed bike was so fucking adorable.
“If you sit like that, you’re gonna fly off,” I explained, once I’d finally composed myself again.
“I can’t bite you with a helmet, mo ghrá.
” As soon as the term of endearment left my mouth, I wanted to punch myself.
I wasn’t thinking about it when ‘my love’ just slipped out, and I was eternally grateful Grant didn’t know Irish.
He was sharp, though. “What does that mean?” Grant tried to copy the pronunciation, making me crack up all over again. If he knew what it meant, I wasn’t sure he’d be saying it. The phrase was too sappy for someone like me to say aloud.
“Dumbass,” I answered glibly. Like hell was I showing my gooey, lovey-dovey side to him. “You ready?”
Grant’s pelvis shifted against my backside and sent electric sparks up my spine. “Not ready to die, if that’s what you’re asking,” he grumbled.
“Just lean with the turns and you’ll be fine.
” My hand twisted the throttle, gunning the engine loud enough to roar over the crowd lined up beside us.
A couple of regulars howled and catcalled in response, and with a quick check over my shoulder, I shot out into the lane.
Grant’s hands tightened into a death grip on my waist when we took the first corner toward my apartment.
“If I fall, I’m taking you with me!”
He was more right than he thought. I kept the admission to myself and leaned forward a little more, bringing Grant with me as we darted between cars on the busy Vegas streets.
I don’t know if I can survive another fall, though.