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“You want me to stop?” He pants, hips still, but planted deep.

I shake my head again.

“Need your words, hummingbird.”

My body rolls, seeking pleasure I’m not sure I understand, because this can’t be normal. It can’t be. This many orgasms need a safety warning.

“No,” I say on a moan as I twist and rotate my hips chasing a high I don’t just want, but need, as much as my next breath. “Please don’t stop.”

Chapter 18

Retribution

TEAGUE

The last thing I wanted to do this morning was drag my sorry ass out of bed to go meet with my boss.

Does Christophe need me to do my job, look into why some very sketchy shit is going on in our world, chase down the asshole who’s going batshit, flipping rocks for that fucking file full of transgressions? Yeah. If I’m honest, he really does.

But I was wrapped around Truie, her tit in my right hand, my left firmly tucked between her sweet thighs. So, my shitty attitude really needs to be overlooked. Sacrifices have been made on my part, and I deserve a fucking medal.

“Tell me what you know,” Christophe demands through my speakers because this couldn’t even wait for me to get to the house.

It takes serious restraint not to roll my eyes like a petulant child because nine times out of ten, he knows exactly what I know, and this is a nine, for sure.

“Desmond is a pain in my ass and stirring shit every chance he gets. Been blowing up my phone for the past week. For the last two days, I blocked him.” That asshole isn’t worth my time.

“You had better things to do. Take care of,” he amends. “You give the girl Winnie’s number?”

“And Garrick’s. Hate that she’s not coming in with me.” He knows, he’s heard that more than enough, and let’s be honest, Christophe wouldn’t be caught dead with his woman beyond his immediate reach.

Not now. Not since he’s finally gotten her.

But I’m not the big boss, here. I don’t make the rules, I just have to tap dance around them, bend them when necessary, and find a way to function without raising too many red flags.

“She’s safer hidden away there,” he says, simply. As if this—any of this—is a minor thing.

If the tables were turned, he would not willingly leave Winnie tucked away somewhere and go about his business. Even back when he couldn’t be with her, he had me keeping eyes on her. Following her every move, ensuring her safety.

Falling for the girl who always had her back was never part of the assignment. But here we are, dumb and fucking obsessed.

“You need to go see him. Sit down with Desmond, maybe some of your other family members and see what they know. Do it separately. I don’t want to give Des any reason to… blah blah blah. You fucking know what you need to do. We’ve got to find what they’re looking for and get him and the others off our backs.”

Don’t I fucking know it.

“My family? You think any of them are going to tell me anything useful?” I glance in my rearview mirror. Red and blue lights flash behind me followed by a lovely whoop that just makes my damn day. “Fuck. Talk to you later.” I disconnect the call and pull over to the side of the road. I ease to a stop, shift the gear into park, and set both hands on the top of the steering wheel.

Looks like I’m talking to Desmond sooner rather than later.

He raps on the window and rests his arm on the roof of my Range Rover, the other falling to his sidearm. Fucker thinks he’s suave as shit.

I lower the window.

“Need you to step out of the car.”

“Des. How are you this morning?”

“Step out of the car, Tig.” His aviators are dark, almost completely hiding his eyes from me. Almost. But his brow shifts the smallest amount when he flicks his gaze over the roof of my car.