Page 35 of Draven

Now, eight years later at twenty-nine, she’s fair game.

“Pull over there, on the left… unless that space is too difficult for you to park in.”

“Boring,” she says in a singsong voice.

For the third time in less than a minute, a laugh splutters out of me. I think that’s a lifetime record. Not for the first time, I thank Christ that Ciaran isn’t here. He’d never let me live this down.

She parallel parks in one attempt, flashing me a triumphant grin. When she goes to get out of the car, I stop her.

“This club of Shala’s… well, it might not be what you’re expecting.”

She frowns, peering at me in the dim light of the streetlamp hovering above where she’s parked. “Expand.”

“It’s an S&M club.”

“Right.” She flattens her lips.

“Nothing wrong with a bit of kink between two consenting adults, Lola.” I wink, and if I’m not mistaken, she presses her thighs together. Interesting.

“Oh, I know. I’m not judging the people who go there. I’m just… never mind.” She expels a heavy sigh. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Climbing out of the car, her gaze falls on the entrance to the building, and a stream of emotions crisscross her face. I get it now. What I initially read as disapproval was despair. If I had to guess, she’s thinking that a guy who runs an S&M club, who also happens to be a sex trafficker, isn’t likely to be into praise kink.

After looking both ways, we cross the street and walk up to the entrance. Capturing Louise around the waist, I murmur in her ear, “Stick close to me, okay?”

She tilts back her head and looks up at me—our size difference over a foot in height. “Like glue.”

“Good girl.”

Without batting an eyelid, security steps aside to allow us access to the lobby of the club. I press my palm into the small of Louise’s back, easing her past the burly guards, then, after paying the entrance fee, we enter the club.

At first glance, our surroundings look just like any other club. A DJ plays pounding beats, strobe lights dance across the wooden floor, and clubbers sway, enjoying the music. Others line up at the bar drinking beer, chatting with friends. But I’ve done my research, and the upper levels are where the private rooms are, available for paying clients to fulfill their every desire.

I order myself a beer, and a Coke for her, before handing it over with a smirk. She raises her eyes to the ceiling, then turns her back to lean against the bar. After a couple of minutes pass, she rises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to my ear. The whispered contact sends a tremor through my body. Fuck, she’s becoming impossible to resist.

“Looks like a normal club to me.”

I jerk my chin, alerting her to the balcony running around the next level with at least ten doors visible from our vantage point.

“Ah,” she says.

I check my watch. “Drink up.”

She surprises me by not arguing or asking me a half dozen questions about why I want her to finish her drink. The truth is I’m itching to move things along. I don’t want her here for a moment longer than necessary. Given my plan, there’s a good chance we could bump into Shala, and I’m not sure what she’ll do if that happens. She’s professional to a fault, but this is her sister’s life on the line, and when emotions that strong are involved, it’s hard not to react. When the intel came through that he’d be here, I’d gone back and forth, trying to decide whether to come here alone or bring a female member of my team with me. In the end, I’d gone with bringing Louise, if only to save myself a knee in the balls when she found out I’d excluded her. I just hope she keeps it together.

I drain my beer and take her hand before leading her through the throngs of people dancing to the music. On the far side of the dance floor, the crowd thins out, and we move far enough away from the loudspeakers to allow us to talk without hollering at each other. I pull her into my arms, holding her close, drinking in the scent of her shampoo, the subtle aroma of her perfume, and the way her curves fit so perfectly against my hard lines.

“What are you doing?” she murmurs, her gaze exploring and filled with suggestion.

Cradling her jaw, I angle her to my liking. Her lips part—an invitation I gladly accept. Bending my head, I hover an inch from her mouth, my eyes not leaving hers for a second.

“This.”

Pressing my lips to hers, I pull her even closer. Unlike our previous punishing kisses, this one is gentle, probing, sensual. I part her lips with my tongue, stroking against hers, exploring every inch of her mouth. I feel rather than hear the vibration in her chest when she moans into my mouth.

I draw back, my gaze returning to hers. “Still with me, Lola?”

Her eyes are glazed, heady with desire that matches my own. She nods, swallows, then nods again, almost as if she’s having to convince herself. God, I need to fuck her, and soon, before my dick explodes. But first, we have to find Kiera.

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