by LC Lehesaho
His hand slides down from my arm to my palm, giving me support to climb in.
I'm way too tempted to turn around and jump him, so I pull my hand away. Because I know myself, and more so, I know Tiger. If I start something now...
We won't leave the hotel.
"I'm fine, thanks," I mutter and climb in—coming to face the fact that I should've just accepted the help, even with the risks. With a tight short dress and heels, it's not an easy job.
"I like that you kept something pink on you now that you had to dye your hair," Tiger states with a grin when I finally get my ass on the seat.
My cheeks burn when I realize what he means—my pink lace undies.
"Gosh, must you?"
"I offered to help, baby."
I roll my eyes. "Such a fucking gentleman you are."
Tiger makes a stupid bow with an amused smile before closing the door and walking around the car. I have a feeling that working with him is going to be quite hard tonight.
“Somebody's Watching Me” by Chico Rose and 71 Digits plays at the club as we walk through the crowd toward the bar. It's full of people, and before I even realize I’m doing it, I’m reaching behind my back for Tiger's hand. It's nothing new; we’ve always walked hand in hand in crowded clubs, but now...
His hand electrifies my whole body—even more than before.
We make our way to the bar and I let go of him as I slide myself between two guys at the counter, who clearly aren’t from the same group. The guy on the right turns to look at me, and the corners of his mouth turn up as he watches me. I give him a lackluster smile, the one you give to strangers in social situations, so you don't have to say anything, but you've somehow acknowledged them.
But the dude apparently has something to say, because he leans closer.
Before he gets a word out, a muscular arm slides over my left shoulder, a hand possessively covering my breast, and the other hand comes to lean on the counter—the one that is tattooed all the way to the knuckles. Tiger's bulging muscles press against my back as his lips come next to my ear. "Order me a drink, baby." I feel his lips touching my earlobe. "Please."
The guy instantly reconsiders and turns back to his friends.
I turn my head to look over my shoulder, meeting his eyes, which look even darker than usual in the dim light, but I still see the wickedness in them. Tiger is always wicked—no matter how well he behaves, how gentle he is—it's there.
He has sin flowing in his bloodstream.
Good thing that I've always been unholy.
Tiger brushes my cheek with his lips and it feels like my blood could ignite from that gentle touch alone.
"Hey, have you been served yet?" A woman's voice talks to me behind the counter, and I flip my gaze toward her.
I need to clear my throat to talk, but my voice is still octaves lower and breathless as I speak. The whole time as I order, wait, and pay for our drinks, Tiger nuzzles my neck, making my legs weak. Luckily his hand is around me, keeping me up.
We get our drinks, and after taking a sip, I turn around without him easing his hold even the slightest. Thanks to my high heels, I don't have to look up at him so much—just a little.
Tiger slides his cheek against mine, talking straight in my ear. "You have to find Navarro, and I'm your cover. He'll recognize you even with dyed hair if you've been close enough to see his dick."
He has a point there.
"Let me look around to see if I can see him," I whisper, knowing that he can hear me because we're practically face-to-face. Sliding my hand up to his carved stomach, over his hard pecs, to the nape of his neck, I pull him to me, and the temptation to kiss him is making me quiver.
Still, I feel like playing a little, so I don't. The look in Tiger's eyes tells me that he wants to eat me alive. But I only lean my face to his shoulder, peeking over it to the crowd.
I feel him take a deep breath, like he’s keeping himself together.
A smug smile pulls the corners of my mouth up.
I can see nearly half of the club and I roam my eyes over the crowd, finding the mohawk I remember Navarro having. The shitty thing is that Navarro isn't very tall, so he probably won't stand out from the crowd.
There is a lounge area with booths on the other side of the dance floor. I can see a lot of people sitting in every one of them, but there's one booth that primarily draws my attention. One guy is standing on the side of it, like he’s guarding someone.
"Kitty," I whisper, with our unusual names I don't want anyone to pay attention. Tiger bites my neck, and my insides flutter, goose bumps rising on my skin.
"Baby girl," he answers, warning in his tone. It makes me smile—teasing him is always exciting.
"The booth behind the dance floor," I murmur and lean back, so he takes the hint. Tiger straightens, taking a look over his shoulder, while I take a gulp of my drink. His eyes come to me, arching one brow. I shrug. "I dunno. I need to get closer to see clearer."
Tiger swigs his drink down in one take and winks at me. "C'mon, baby girl."
He pulls me to the dance floor with him, and my heart rate skyrockets. “Breaking Me” by Topic booms from the stereos and the strobe lights flash to the beat of the music as he makes way for us through the crowd. People around us are grinding against each other, and the heat on the dance floor is through the roof. Literally and metaphorically. It doesn't help with the heatwave I'm currently riding.
I've never been on the dance floor with Tiger.
Yeah, we did things behind closed doors, but something like this...
Tiger stops at the spot where there is a view to the right booth. He turns to me, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me against him, and leans to my ear. "Move for me, baby."
"This is not—"
He cuts me off by spinning me around, my back against his chest, and his firm grip on my waist keeps me there like glue. "Stop being a chickenshit, baby girl. I know you can dance. I've seen you." At that, he starts to move, swaying me with him. I'm momentarily stunned that Tiger has a perfect sense of rhythm. I shouldn't be surprised, though; Tiger moves smoothly even when he is fighting.
My body melts instantly against his like it's the most natural thing to do.
I realize that I've placed my hands over his on my waist, moving right along with him. The music draws me in, and it feels nice. Liberating like dancing always is.
And I give in.
Soon, I lean my head back on his shoulder, rocking my hips to the beat. I let the rhythm sink into me and bring my other hand to my hair, enjoying the freedom. Tiger's other hand comes to my stomach, and I feel him breathing next to my cheek.
It's not the only thing I feel.
He's growing hard against my ass, and the only thing on my mind is how fucking good he felt inside me. My blood is running hot enough to torch me, and the heat pools in my abdomen, liquifying me.
The song changes, waking me up enough to remember that I am supposed to find out if Navarro is here. The booth is behind Tiger, so I turn around, sliding my hands to his neck.
The smoldering gaze he gives me has me catching my breath and I feel my stomach doing backflips. He pulls me tighter against him, one hand on the small of my back and the other on my ass. I melt into him and roll my hips, increasing the spark between us.
Tiger presses our brows together, lips inches away from mine.
"Baby."
"Mmhh?"
"Look over my shoulder, is he there?"
Oh, fuck. Yes, we are supposed to be working.
I press my face to his shoulder, eyeing the booth from my cover. We keep dancing, Tiger still surprising me at how fucking good he is at this.
Four guys are sitting in the booth, one has a girl in his lap, and one guy is still standing outside of it. I narrow my eyes, focus, and recognize the mohawk under the flickering lights. Max Navarro.
He's going to get himself a night to remember. Or he would if he made it out alive. Which he won't, obviously.
I pick my head up to whisper in Tiger's ear. "It's him. Right next to the guy with a girl in his lap."
Tiger turns us around, so I'm back against the booth. "The mohawk?"
"Yeah."
He brings his face against mine, brows to brows. I breathe in his scent, euphoria spreading into every cell in me. The hand on my ass stays still, but the other one trails up my spine, making me shiver as it goes, and then his fingers thread through my strands, gripping the base of my neck.
"Then, we'll probably stay right here until he leaves," Tiger whispers low against my mouth, his lips still not touching mine.
I sway with the music, as does he, and let it sink in once more. This is so easy with him, and for the first time, I can breathe freely. We're not in Shangri-la, our family is not with us, no one’s telling us this is wrong. I can just fucking enjoy his company.
The closeness I crave from him—what I've always desired.
Us together—without any shackles keeping us apart, or lines we are not supposed to cross.
The music changes again, “Dusk till Dawn” by ZAYN, and it feels like time is stopping. All I see is him, his heated eyes on mine, lips inches away from mine, his hands on my body.
I close the distance between our lips, sinking into him without any restraints whatsoever, and Tiger opens up for me like I'm the one he's been waiting for, for ages.
At least, he is the one I've been waiting for, but I've been too afraid to admit it.
But I'm not scared anymore. We nearly destroyed each other, ripping each other apart limb by limb, yet we still breathe. After all the fucked-up shit we did to each other, Tiger still owns my heart, and I own his. We survived the battle, which we fought against the biggest opponent of them all—ourselves.
As Tiger said—I'm the Phoenix, but the fact is that he is the fire inside me, and we are ready to fly.
A throaty growl from his chest vibrates through me, making me shiver as Tiger pulls back.
"I'm going to break my promise, baby girl," he says huskily.
"Which one?"
"About taking it slow. I want to put my hand inside your pink panties and finger fuck you, I also want to make your eyes water when I thrust my dick in your mouth," he says without batting an eye. "Not sure yet of the order though."
Those pink panties have gone through many heat waves in one night, that’s for sure. My cheeks flush, and I have to swallow to be able to speak. "Well, neither of those are happening on this dance floor, so..."
Tiger looks around like he’s searching for a corner for privacy, for whatever he wants to do to me, but then he frowns. "He's leaving."
I force myself not to look. "Alone?"
"Yup." His eyes land on mine, and he sweeps his thumb over my lips. "I can't wait to see these around me. I'm gonna make you fucking gag." Then he sighs, dropping his hands before taking mine into his. "C'mon. Work before pleasure or whatever."
I can't do anything but blink, stunned by the vivid images he put in my head. Yeah, I'm indeed focused on working right now.
40
"Oh, motherfucker!"
Cobra's irked voice comes from behind me, and she stops, stopping me with her because of our linked hands. I spin around to see what the fuck happened and face a guy whose hand brushes her chest, an empty beer glass in the other. Cobra wipes her breasts too, cursing.
The anger radiates from my spine when I watch him touch her. Gritting my teeth, I shove him hard enough to make him stumble backward, bumping against someone. "Don't fucking touch her, or I'll cut you to pieces," I growl loud enough for him to hear it over the music. Then I turn my eyes on Cobra. "Did he hurt you?"
She's stopped wiping and pushes me forward toward the door, but I don't budge. "I'm fine, jeez! We gotta go!" She pokes me to move. "He just spilled the beer, whatever, let's go!"
Fuck, I hate people.
I stride to the door, fighting the urge to turn around and feed the fucking glass to the guy. If we weren’t in a hurry, I'd definitely do that and a bit more. It's incredible how bloodthirsty she makes me.
When we get out, I look around, but there's no sign of Navarro. Cobra curses by my side, spinning around, trying to find him.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" She throws her free hand in the air, frustration leaking out.
"My thoughts exactly." I wipe my hand down my face, trying to breathe. This is not what I wanted, not at all. I’d planned to throw the bastard into the trunk and deal with him after I fucked her brains out.
The universe is against me for sure.
"We need to go to his house," Cobra says, pulling me toward the Explorer.
"I'll cut his tongue out if we don’t get anything out of this." I unlock the door with the remote, then I open her door and Cobra starts to climb in. Again, it looks problematic, so I grab hold of her waist and toss her to the seat.
"Jesus motherfucking Christ, stop manhandling me!" she yelps, slamming her palm to the console for balance.
"Oh, please, baby, cut the act. You fucking love it," I retort and swing her door closed. I pull a pack of cigarettes from my pocket, pull one out with my teeth, and light it up. After taking a long drag, I put my hands on the Explorer's roof and lean in, eyes on Cobra through the driver's window.
Even though I love her pink hair, I admit that she is sexy as fuck as a blonde. She’s wiping her chest with a tissue and her lips are moving, probably cursing under her breath. The dress is like another skin on her, molding to her curves like it's just paint sprayed on her skin.
Cobra is a piece of art.
I know her mother was Colombian, just like ours was, even though her mother hasn't been around since Cobra turned five. But that is where her curves come from, I'm sure. Probably also a little bit from the junk she loves to eat, but I love her round ass. Her waist stays slim from all the training, but she doesn't look muscular, which is a deadly illusion. Her thighs have so much strength that she can actually squeeze a grown-ass man unconscious with them—she'd done it to me once while training just to show off, and I'm sure that's what happened to Pietro too. I take another drag of smoke, feeling the anger easing up—fading away like watching her is some kind of meditation.
It actually is.
Like sensing my eyes on her, Cobra turns her head, her hazel eyes narrowing on me. She still tries to pretend to be pissed about the manhandling. I know she loves it when I pick her up and toss her around. Otherwise, I wouldn't do it.
I open the door and place my hand on the roof, motioning her to me with the other. "Come here, baby."
"Eat shit, you fucking gorilla."
I laugh out loud at her scowling. "Baby, it wasn't a question. Come on."
Cobra sighs but leans over the console. "Now what?"
I take a drag of my smoke, fill my lungs, and wrap my hand around her neck, pulling her close enough to kiss her. When her lips open up for me, I blow the smoke in her mouth. She goes rigid under my touch but inhales it all, and I kiss her gently, taking my sweet time. I fucking love being able to do so.
She holds her breath, keeping the smoke in, but answers me. Her lips are soft, but there's still a cut on her lower lip, and I sweep my tongue over it, placing a tiny kiss to it as I pull back to look at her.
She is so beautiful.
Cobra's eyes are glued to mine as she blows the smoke out through her fucking nostrils.
And I feel my dick swelling in my jeans all over again.
"Stop fucking around and let's go, okay, kitty?" she says with a purr.
Kitty.
"Are you trying to make me angry?" I ask, grabbing her hand and pressing it to my dick. "Want me to shut you up right here? With my cock in your throat, you can try to call me that again."
There's an amused flicker in her eyes as she looks up at me like I’ve just thrown her a challenge. If we didn’t have to go now, I'd do just that.
Cobra doesn't say a word, just moves her hand up and down on my length with the right amount of pressure, and it feels so good th
at a low growl rises from my chest. It makes her wicked smile grow wider, and just when I push myself harder against her hand, she pulls back to her seat, escaping from me.
"C'mon, kitty. Work before pleasure, right?" Cobra says with a cocky smirk on her face.
Gritting my teeth, I drop the butt of the cig to the ground and grind it before getting into the car. "You'll pay for that, you fucking tease."
"Sorry, in English, please. I don't speak kitten," she replies while tapping her phone.
For fuck's sake. "You can stop digging your grave 'cause you've been infuriating enough to make sure there will be nothing left to bury when I'm done with you."
Cobra looks me in the eyes with a mischievous expression and taps her phone. “Tempo” from Lizzo and Missy Elliot starts to play, straight from the part: kitty cat, kitty cat, kitty-kitty cat, prrr me a glass, boy, I like my water wet.
Just barely, I keep myself from laughing at her dumb jokes. With a sigh, I start the Explorer and roll it to the road. "You're a goddamn idiot, and I don't even wanna fuck you anymore."
"Ha! That's a big fat lie." She laughs and takes off her heels, throwing them to the back seat. Then she starts to wiggle black jeans on, still wearing the dress.
Yeah, it's a lie—the only one I'll ever say to her.
From the corner of my eye, I watch her change the dress to a black tank top and a hoodie. She gathers her hair into a ponytail, tugging it inside the hoodie. I have to check on the road from time to time, so I don't accidentally drive over anyone or get us lost, but mostly I keep my eyes on her. She captivates me in a way no one else can.
A couple of houses down on the road before Navarro's place, I stop the car on the side of the road so that I can also get ready.
Cobra is reaching for something in the back seat, and when she gets back to her seat, she hands me my black hoodie and starts to strap her blades over her jeans. We've done this together too many times to count, and I know she can handle her shit if she wants to, but every fucking time I feel the stress inside me.
I'm not scared of many things, but on a job, I'm afraid that something will happen to her. Seeing her getting those hits on our last job, her limp body dropping to the ground… it fucking broke something in me.
