Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Lincoln’s jaw clenches, but he slips an arm around my waist, pulling me close enough that my chest brushes his suit jacket. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs, and his gaze roams over me, the dark intensity still there. “You’re shaking.”
I let out a shaky laugh, realizing he’s right—my knees feel a bit wobbly, either from the dance or from the way he’s looking at me now, with equal parts protectiveness and desire. “It was… different,” I say, swallowing hard. “Having you watch was…”
He leans in, brushing his lips near my ear in a move that mimics what Vera did. But the effect is entirely different. My body clenches, a wave of longing surging through me. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he admits, voice nearly a growl. “Didn’t know whether to break it up or let you… explore.”
I exhale, tension rippling through my core. “I liked that you saw me.”
His dark gaze collides with mine. “Oh, I saw you, all right,” he murmurs, the rawness in his tone sending a spark down my spine. There’s a beat of silence where everything else in the club seems to fade, leaving only the hammering of my heart and the memory of his earlier hunger.
Eventually, the music starts up again, a new, throbbing track. Lincoln shifts, breaking the spell. “Come on,” he says gently, taking my hand. “Let’s get a drink, maybe talk to some other people. We’ll gather whatever intel we can and see if Vera and Trey are willing to help us meet Morris.”
I nod, letting him guide me through the throng of dancers, my body still buzzing from the heated dance. I can feel the stares of other patrons—some intrigued, some envious—but I focus on Lincoln, on the steady grip of his hand, on the reassurance in his voice.
And as we head toward the bar, I can’t help replaying the scene in my mind: the swaying, the press of Trey’s chest at my back, Vera’s body in front of me, and Lincoln watching from across the room with that look that made my blood race. In the swirl of all these new experiences, one thing remains clear: I’ve never felt so alive, or so close to the edge, in my entire life.
I just hope it doesn’t all come crashing down before we get what we need. And before I figure out exactly what’s brewing between me and Lincoln beyond this dangerous game.
Chapter 19
Lincoln
Fuck me.
A low thrumming tension pulses through my veins as we drift away from the small dance floor, leaving behind the flicker of pink and gold lights. My gaze keeps straying to Isabel, replaying the sight of her between Trey and Vera, that sultry sway of her hips, the flush in her cheeks. Even now, the memory sets my heart hammering against my rib cage. I’m not sure which impulse is stronger: the urge to march her right out of this club so I can have her all to myself, or the temptation to keep pushing our luck here, see just how deep this rabbit hole goes.
But as we chat with a few more groups—casually, politely—my anticipation of gleaning intel deflates. No one knows anything, or if they do, they’re holding onto it with an iron grip. The night has turned into a frustrating dead end of smiles and empty conversations, and the longer we linger, the more my patience frays.
Eventually, Isabel turns to me, brow furrowed. “We’re not getting anywhere,” she murmurs. Even over the throbbing lounge music, I catch the disappointment in her voice.
“Agreed.” My body is still wired, the press of adrenaline and unspent desire throbbing in my gut, but my mind finally decides enough is enough. “Let’s go. We can regroup and figure out our next move.”
She nods, relief mingling with regret in her expression. We slip past the last handful of couples drifting around the mini-ballroom and head out through the main floor of Club Greed. The booming bass from the public area is a jarring contrast to the private lounge. Flashing lights, bodies writhing on a crowded dance floor, the thick scent of sweat and expensive perfume, it all feels claustrophobic after the tense bubble we just left.
By the time we exit the building, the cool night air comes as a welcome shock. Isabel sucks in a deep breath, hugging her arms around herself until I slip off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. She offers me a small, grateful smile, and we exchange a weighted look that says too much about what we’re both feeling. Heat. Frustration. Maybe something more.
We climb into the SUV, after the valet brought it around. For a while, the rumble of the engine and the hush of the dark streets fill the space between us. My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, tension coiling through my body, a furious mix of pent-up desire and unrelenting worry about the mission. It doesn’t help that Isabel is quiet, her gaze flicking out the window at the passing city lights.