by Lana Grayson
But Luke leapt onto the stage. I smacked into his shoulder as he dove for me, wrapping his arms around my body and ruining the trick. The air knocked from my lungs. Luke swore.
“Fuck, Lyn!”
That was it. I fought from his arms. Whether he wanted a dance or not, I had to set some hardcore fucking ground rules before he busted in on more of my life.
The VIP lounge had doors that were never to be closed unless it was under my order.
Their slam echoed over Sorceress.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
Luke settled onto the couch. He spread his legs like he expected me to crawl over him. He wouldn’t like where my feet aimed.
“Getting my dance.” He tossed a bundle of hundreds at me. Usually the money would gain my attention. It had nothing on the unfamiliar harshness in his voice. “Apparently this is the best way to corner you.”
“No one corners me.”
“Five thousand dollars says otherwise.” Luke didn’t blink. “Half now, half once my dance is over—if I’m satisfied. Judging by the tricks out front, I should get one hell of a show.”
“Five thousand dollars?”
“You’re becoming pretty high-class, Lyn.”
I didn’t even touch the cash. “What the hell are you doing with that much money in my club?”
“Needed something to shove down those panties you got in a twist.”
“Jokes on you. I’m not wearing panties.”
“Yeah? Then what’s keeping that stick up your ass?”
Thin ice. “Wouldn’t you love to find out?”
“I’m only mortal.”
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” I expected this from Thorne, Keep, or any other Anathema hard-asses who acted bigger than their cock. Knight never needed to prove himself.
I remembered how big he truly was.
“If you won’t let me keep an eye on you, least I can do is reimburse you for the bullshit protection Thorne’s offering.”
“Jesus Christ, Luke. I don’t have time for this.”
“Make time. I’m a paying customer.” His smirk wasn’t playful. “Where’s my dance?”
“Get out of my club. Take your money. You’ll need it for your funeral costs—”
I hadn’t expected him to move. He kicked, hooking his foot around my ankle. I tripped forward. He slammed me onto his lap.
I gripped his arms.
Oh, he was in trouble.
And so was I.
I sucked in a breath. Big mistake. His cedar, masculine scent enveloped me, a blend of leather and blown chances. My fingers dug into his cut.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, the threat evaporating from my voice. “Let me go.”
“You’ve been in my lap before.”
“I learned my lesson the last time.”
“About a year ago?” Luke words roughened. “Anathema’s party. You danced on me all night.”
“We did more than dance.” I hated to admit it. Hated how I still felt that ache inside me, the need that curled my fingers against his cut.
I had wanted him then and every moment since the split. Every day during the war. Every day that paranoia lurked in the shadows, destroying any opportunity we might have had.
I twisted onto his lap, straddling him.
He started the war. Ruined everything.
And yet his hands gripped me, forcing me to move to the grinding music I couldn’t hear over my rasping breath. My heart forged its own beat to the music. It wasn’t on time, and it had no real rhythm, but it was more honest than any pulsing song that shimmied my hips for men who didn’t deserve it.
He was hard.
That was a given. I took it as a personal insult when men didn’t swell in my presence.
Luke was no different from any other leather-bound outlaw who traded respectability for a forced respect at the edge of a blade or barrel of a gun. But one time, he might have been more.
His hands held my hips, enveloping me in more than just his calloused warmth.
Danger wasn’t a loaded gun or high-speed chase through the desert.
It was his presence. His grip. The threat of his desire.
This dance would turn a kiss to a bite and a touch to a scratch, and it was just the sort of decision that’d land me on my knees. We’d make that mistake again and again until we lost our breath, our minds, and our lives.
I ground my hips down. He met the motion, stroking upward, bumping through the leggings and brushing everything hot and denied for too long. I curled my fingers behind his neck, offering him a shimmy as I let the music set its own teasing rhythm.
I should have stopped his hands. Shouldn’t have let his touch drift lower. He shifted my hips. Straddling him became a very dangerous place to dance.
Those royal blue eyes stared at me. I held his gaze, panting as he rubbed my knee, my hip.
And then my thigh.
It didn’t take much, just a quick rub of his fingers against the leggings. The heat pulsed between my legs, and his touch wasn’t an accident. My breath quickened.
His fingers pressed.
Circled.
Teased.
“I almost possessed you once,” he whispered. “Had you waiting and slick.”
My voice didn’t steady as he touched where he didn’t belong. “Still do, but I know better now.”
“Do you?” He pressed harder. My vision haloed, brightened as I forgot to breathe, to move. “You’re not dancing anymore.”
If I moved my hips, it’d be over. He found my clit through the leggings and danced for me.
I trembled against him. Wished I hadn’t remembered the only time I welcomed him inside me. I never felt such heat, was never filled so perfectly.
But the call had interrupted us. He pulled me from his cock, and we shivered, parted from each other as the world set on fire.
I hadn’t relaxed since that moment. My body raged for him, for any touch. Nothing satisfied it.
“We never finished that night,” I whispered.
“Give me some credit, Lyn.” He tugged me close, his lips brushing my ear. “I hardly got started.”
God, this man. I should have stopped him as his fingertips teased the waistband of my leggings, but Luke was no stranger to slipping a hand into panties and teasing his girl in the dark and quiet.
The rough brush of his calloused hand enveloped me. I should have pushed him away, should have fought before he touched that slickness that betrayed everything.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
I didn’t avert my gaze.
His fingers rolled. I sucked in a useless breath as my core tightened.
He chuckled. “You stopped dancing again.”
What was I supposed to do? His touch shocked every inch of me, and just the heat pouring from his fingertips against that sensitive, aching place was enough to drive a mew from my lips.
He shifted, pressing harder against my slit. He flicked my clit and rubbed hard. A single finger teased my entrance, savoring the silky promise. He said nothing, simply pushed within me.
A single thrust of his finger.
I melted into his arms.
I came. Not dignified. Not poetic.
Just raw and hard and shuddering over a man I never should have let touch me. Not when I already questioned every brush of his fingers, whispered word, and sidelong glance. For a year I denied him. I tried to forget him. I ignored the pulse between my legs and the blush on my cheeks when I saw him.
Luke was everything I needed, and nothing about my feelings would keep us alive.
He let me breathe against him. I straightened under my own strength and braved a chance to meet his gaze. I didn’t trust the sincerity that hardened the blue.
“You gotta know I want you, Lyn.”
He released by body and let me regain a bit of poise. I dragged my hips against his, bumping a hardness so fierce it must have hurt. My breathless v
oice revealed too much. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”
“I’m tired of playing around. Wasted enough time.”
“So that’s what the tease was?” I palmed his chest, sinking my nails into thick muscle. “A game?”
“You know what I want.” His hand gripped my wrist. “You feel it too.”
“Yeah. But, unlike you, I get what I want.”
“That so?”
“If I had the inclination, you’d already be mine.”
He smiled, but I didn’t trust his dimples. Even this knight wasn’t so noble when his cock got hard. Then he became the very beast he pretended to slay.
And I was the damsel he chose to hunt.
His words caressed me. Too close. Too soft. “What stopped you?”
I hated that I shuddered as I savored his scent. “You did this to yourself. You left Anathema. You chose another path.”
“Bullshit. This isn’t about Anathema. You wanted me just as much.”
“Luke, you’ve always wanted what you couldn’t have. The woman you couldn’t save.” I nearly brushed my lips against his. His hand went to my hair, gripping, holding, guiding. I denied him. “Here’s the twist, Knight. I don’t need saving. You do. Always did. From yourself. From your ideals. From the life you chose.”
“That’s not true.”
“One of us accepted how the world works. The other did everything he could to change it.”
“I did what I thought was right.”
I straightened on his lap, regaining a sense of space, of myself. I unpinned my hair, letting the thick blonde locks fall around us. Wasn’t part of the dance or the recovery from his touch, but it let me have a moment to think so I could keep my heart beating and legs steady.
“And how’d that work out for you?” I asked. “You’re on the run. Living in some hole-in-the-wall apartment on the other side of the river. No friends.”
His fingers brushed through my hair. “A man doesn’t need friendship. He’s got other needs.”
“Like loyalty? Honor?”
“You think I’m such a fucking villain.”
“Aren’t you?” The song ended. I didn’t care. His heat passed straight through me, and I rode him into the next track. “You betrayed your brothers. Because of you, the club is in danger. I’m in danger.”
Luke laughed. “Princess, you got yourself in trouble. Don’t blame that danger on me.”
“And here I thought you were taking everyone’s burdens to the cross with you.”
“You know who killed Blade Darnell.”
It was getting tricky to focus. I needed to sit, catch my breath, get away from Luke before I needed more than just a quick touch through my leggings. I didn’t slow my movements, and his cock didn’t soften.
“I’m a stripper, not a detective.”
“And I’m a traitor, not an idiot. You’re protecting the one who killed him, and I can only imagine it’s not as a favor to Anathema. You’re watching out for little Rosie, aren’t you?”
“Rose didn’t kill Blade.”
“Someone did, and they did it for her.”
The lie came too fast, and every word of it sliced through my throat. “I don’t know anything. And it’s time you stop looking for more trouble.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Why would I?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” His hands wove a little too far along my curves. “When have I ever misled you? Hurt you?”
“You haven’t.”
“No. I haven’t.”
“But I decided long ago to never let you close enough to take that chance.”
“Take it now.”
“Tempting.” It was the truth. His heat, strength, need wrapped me in the same shell of longing. “But I’m managing enough disasters.”
“Let me help.”
“You can’t help, not when you’re in the middle of it all.” I shifted before his hand brushed my cheek. I didn’t permit men to touch me when I danced. That rule already disintegrated in a moment of recklessness, but I could stop us from going any further. “Unless you want to act as bait for ATF, I don’t need you to rescue me.”
“What if I ask you to save me?”
“Are we still talking business?”
“What if I’m not?”
“Then this dance is over. Don’t make it any harder.”
“Doesn’t have to be.” His touch grazed me far too lightly for a man looking to score. “Could be about something more than loyalty.”
“Nothing’s more important.”
“You’re more important.”
Jesus. I pulled from his lap. His hands circled my wrist.
“Did you send me a message about Anathema’s run?”
I didn’t like the sound of that. The shiver wasn’t part of my dance. “What are you talking about?”
“I got a message from someone in Anathema. Sending me info. Drop off times, runs, jobs, where they’d be.”
“If this is a fucking trick—”
“Was it you?”
“Me?” I tugged my wrist. He didn’t let me go. “Why would I send you information about Anathema?”
“Because someone is, and it’s good intel. Can’t figure out if it’s meant to help or trap me, but so far it’s been honest reconnaissance. It’s keeping my men out of harm’s way. Anathema can pass our borders without body bags.”
“What the hell are they doing?”
“Who the fuck knows. It’s just enough of a mystery to keep me looking over my shoulder and double-checking the locks.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the Valley is about to get dangerous. More than it was before.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I fucking hope so, but I’m not taking the chance. I’m going to make sure you’re safe, and I don’t care how much blood has to spill to do it.”
I held my breath. “What are you planning?”
“I’m reuniting Anathema and The Coup.”
My stomach twisted.
Now he would die. Crushed by Anathema, flayed by The Coup, and crucified by Temple. They’d race to see who got to make the first slice.
Nothing was going to reunite the clubs. Not after the bloodshed and insults, ruined brotherhoods and lost opportunities for something more than a quick fuck in the back of a strip club.
“Luke—”
“Temple’s gonna use Blade’s death as an excuse to destroy the Valley. We have no choice. I gotta bring the clubs together, call a truce, and focus on the real enemy.”
Was he that foolish? “If you do this, you’ll become everyone’s enemy again.”
“Am I yours?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“I deserve an answer.”
“Do you?”
He moved faster than I expected, tangling one hand in my hair and pressing the other to my cheek.
His kiss came rough, hard, and fast. He asked for my help but silenced my refusal. His promises nipped my lips—a fierce devotion no man, no traitor, should ever have vowed against muted protests and my quiet rage.
I twisted in his grip. He didn’t release me. That was good. My arms would have struck his chest only to wrap around his neck.
He didn’t deserve my kiss. I did nothing to earn the punishment of my own lust.
The pounding, roiling heat in my core might have crippled me. Luke’s solid grip on my hair pulled hard enough to sting, hard enough to keep me grounded in reality, in danger, in the worst possible complication to a life cracking from under me.
I danced in six inch heels without wavering, but one fierce kiss from Luke might have dropped me to my knees.
Luke broke away with a profanity. He swung me onto the couch, and my heart raced, hoping that cut would fall away and the man would settle over me, demanding more than my time, my dance, my unwilling affection.
Instead he stood, tenderly touching where my enthusiasm turned to aggression and his l
ip puffed from a bite.
“Don’t make yourself a target.” He tossed a wad of hundreds at me. I didn’t degrade myself by reaching for the bundle as it bounced onto the couch beside me. “Too many VIP experiences like this and Temple would think better of killing you.”
Son of a bitch. “Get out of my club.”
And life. And mind.
And heart.
“Thanks for the dance, Princess.”
Bad news came in threes.
First, I got another message from my mystery contact at Anathema.
Then, after a night trailing the highway to verify the information was good, I came home to find that Lyn had returned the money I gave her and included a detailed note of where I could shove it.
Now? Unless a rainbow shot out of my cellphone, Grim wasn’t calling to chat.
I pulled into an alley hidden from the main drag to take the call. I kept my back to a building. Our side of the river wasn’t stable, and I didn’t need to fall onto some gangbanger’s switchblade while I dealt with our business.
I didn’t greet Grim, just assumed the worst. “Tell me how we’re getting fucked this time.”
“Bend over, buddy. They’re already pounding away.”
Fantastic. “What’s happening?”
“Priest.”
Just hearing his name was bad luck. Dealing with his shit was the kind of karma I expected for firing that first shot against Anathema. At least I had five grand in my possession. It’d spring his bail if he got another assault charge, but I’d let his ass rot if it was a woman making the allegation.
“What’d he do?” I asked.
“Where are you?”
Not the answer I wanted. “Grant and Seventh.”
“Get on the 9 and head north. Priest took his guys and decided to take advantage of an opportunity.”
“Christ, what’s he doing?”
Grim grunted. “Didn’t say. Took Bounty and Lash and went for a ride.”
And I knew why. It wasn’t a hit on Anathema. For the first time in a year, I wished it was. Priest aimed for a bigger target.
“Check the printout,” I said. “They’re tracking one of Temple’s supply runs.”
“Fuck me.” Grim jostled his phone and rustled through the intel I printed on Temple. I figured my officers could use the contents of the flash drive to stay out of danger, not start a goddamned street war with it. “There’s a shipment heading north, to Temple’s warehouses outside San Jose.”