Page 94 of Traitor

His lips tug into a slow, lazy smile.

"You're not ready, beautiful."

The way he says it, like it's a sin, like he's already stripping me down with his gaze, makes something delicious curl low in my stomach.

I lean against the doorframe, tilting my head, letting him have his fill. "Had some visitors. Give me a few minutes."

I introduce him to Mama and Layla and then they leave, both giving me matching thumbs-ups behind his back.

Jesus.

I wave them off, biting back a smirk, before turning back to Griffin. My smile shifts into a sultry promise, laced with challenge.

"Ready for a night of fun?"

His grin sharpens, and as he steps closer, the heat between us spikes, thick and charged, promising nothing but trouble.

The bass thrums through my body, the beat sinking under my skin, pounding in time with my pulse. Some old-school Lady Gaga track fills the air, electric and intoxicating, the kind of music that makes you forget, makes you move.

Ria is at the bar, laughing, flirting, already working her magic on some poor bastard who doesn't know what's coming. Griffin is pressed against my back, solid, warm, his hands gripping my hips as we move in sync. I tilt my head back, rolling my body into his, letting myself feel him, letting myself get lost into the moment.

I slide my arms up, twining them around his neck, turning just enough to catch his mouth with mine. The kiss is slow, teasing, a promise we both already know the answer to.

Griffin knows what's happening tonight. We've been fuck buddies for months, ever since he moved to Silverpine and strolled into Ria's shop. He's good — too good. A fucking machine in bed. But we don't connect beyond the physical, and that's fine with me. Connection is dangerous. Desire is enough.

His hands roam my body, his fingers pressing, his touch sparking heat low in my stomach. I let out a slow breath, my body lighting up, ready — and then I see it.

A shadow moves behind Griffin, just outside the haze of the club's neon lights.

My stomach turns to ice. Of course, it's him.

Bones.Fuck my life.

He's standing there, motionless, his storm-grey eyes locked onto Griffin's head like he's contemplating caving it in with his bare hands.

I roll my eyes, grabbing Griffin's hand without a word, dragging him through the crowd, straight to the bar.

Ria barely glances up from her new toy before I snap, "Bones is here."

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Mama or Layla probably blabbed. Not their fault. But I want to leave," I say, already annoyed. "What's your plan with him?" I tip my chin toward the man she's been talking to.

Ria grins, teeth showing. "You can go with Griffin, Tempe. I'm having plenty of fun right here." Then, just as quickly, her face sobers. "Unless you want me to come with you. I can take care of your biker problem."

I huff out a laugh. "I don't have a biker problem, Ri."

She gives me a flat look. I ignore it.

"You be careful," I murmur, watching her. "We're going together to the clubhouse next week, right?"

Her grin returns, sharp enough to cut. "Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Little psycho."

She winks. "Big psycho."

I lace my fingers with Griffin's and start pushing through the crowd toward the exit, the tension in my spine slowly unwinding.

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