Page 76 of Pretty Dark Vows

This is just… good.

I drag my nose along her neck, humming with pleasure as desire heats my veins and my cock strains the denim of my jeans, pushing against her ass.

“Crazy,” she repeats softly, tipping her head to give me better access as her eyes flutter closed.

My lips brush against her skin again, and I bite back a groan. I’m not the one to tell her she’snotgoing crazy—living in this house with us is probably proof that she’s right about that—but at least she’s in good company.

We’re all a little mad here.

25

RILEY

Before I can dosomething really stupid, like turn around and wrap my arms around Dante’s shoulders so he can kiss me properly, he releases his hold on me and steps away.

“I’ll see you downstairs, princess,” he says, giving me one more lingering look before he strides out of the bathroom.

I really must be crazy to keep feeling like there’s something between us. There can’t be. Not anything real. But the phantom touch of his lips on my skin lingers as I take care of my hair and makeup, and when I finally head downstairs, my stomach is still fluttering.

“Stupid,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head as I leave the bathroom and head down the stairs. Even if therecouldbe the spark of something real between us, my focus needs to be on the true reason I’m here.

I’ve started to feel almost sympathetic toward the Reapers in this “war” they’re having, rooting for them where just a few weeks ago, I would have lumped all gangs into the same stay-the-fuck-away category. But like Dante implied, maybe this escalating feud they have with West Point really will work out in my favor if it gets them to move faster when it comes to getting Chloe back.

I’m not entirely sure what role I’ll play in that mission tonight, or even how going to this West Point owned club is supposed to help, but that’s where my focus needs to be. Not on anything else.

Whatever they want from me tonight, whatever they tell me to do at the club, I’ll do it. The Reapers may not be my friends, but for now, at least, we have a common goal.

I hear the three men talking quietly in the front entryway once I reach the bottom of the stairs, and they look up as I approach.

“There she is.” Dante gives me a broad smile, his eyes moving over me appreciatively even though he just saw me upstairs.

My steps slow, my heart thudding heavily as heat sweeps through my body like wildfire.

Because he’s not the only one who’s staring at me.

All three pairs of eyes—vivid green, piercing gray, and pale ice blue—lock on to me like lasers. The men are dressed in suits, and even though their clothes hide the tattoos beneath for the most part, they all still have a dangerous edge to their appearances.

Maddoc’s eyes burn with something that reminds me of the way he looked at me last night, and even Logan… fuck. I shiver. Even he looks at me with raw heat in his eyes before his usual mask of cold indifference descends, snuffing it out.

I swallow, not sure what to do with that, or with the way my body reacts to it.

But before I have time to figure it out, Maddoc ruins it like he always does.

“You’re late,” he says in a clipped voice, making my hackles go up.

I’m definitelynotlate. If there’s one thing working the stage at Club M has taught me, it’s how to make myself look totally fuckable in record time.

“If you’re in such a goddamn hurry, then why are you just standing there eye-fucking me?” I shoot back, breezing past him and toward the door.

Dante chuckles, and I bite back a smile as Maddoc’s jaw clenches. I’m sure he picked up the not-so-subtle reference to what happened last night, the way he fucked that other girl without ever taking his eyes off me, and I hope my unspoken message is loud and clear.

You fuck with me? I’ll fuck with you right back.

Luckily, once we leave the house, I can focus on things other than all the shit that’s gone down between me and these men. The guys spend the drive exchanging cryptic information, and I listen carefully to all of it. It really is like they’re going over a battle plan, and even though Dante already told me the club we’re headed to is owned by West Point, it’s the wolf-like, predatory intensity they each radiate that drives that point home to me.

Logan’s phone vibrates as Maddoc pulls the Escalade into a parking lot two blocks down from the club. I’ve never been to this place, but I’m familiar with it. A couple of the girls I used to work with mentioned it a time or two.

“Don’t they have valet parking?” I ask, earning me a wink from Dante and a scowl from Maddoc.

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