The club was packed, and the music was pumping. No one even noticed her crawling under their tables. Or, if they did, no one reacted quickly enough to say anything. She emerged at the end of the line of high tops, just feet from the door. The alarm would go off if she went out of it, but the bouncer was there, and he could disable it.
She made a mad dash for him, but a strong arm caught her around the waist and dragged her back against six feet of solid muscle. Fear coiled with something else—dark interest in the man who’d captured her.
The bouncer started toward them but then recognized Yuri and paled. He shot her a “what should I do?” look.
Not wanting to get him killed, she looked away.
Yuri wrapped one hand around her throat. He didn’t squeeze but used it to pull her head back against his chest, the threat of asphyxiation obvious and clear. “Little DJ,” he spoke directly in her ear, his thick accent so much sexier that way, “I would love to let you sneak out the back door, except for two things.”
She cursed the trembling in her limbs, which she was certain he felt. To make it worse, his hand at her waist started to roam, slipping inside her tank top and skimming across her belly. It sent ripples of heat and tremors cascading down her inner thighs. “Wh-what things?” she managed to breathe.
His warm palm coasted over her skin, up to one breast, which he squeezed through her bra. Back down to the waistband of her jean skirt, where he insinuated his fingers. “One. Nobody gives me the slip, so the boys would know I let you go.” His lips pressed against her ear so it seemed like he spoke right into her very cells. His fingers wriggled deeper into her skirt, making her clit come alive with the nearness. “And, two, I can’t let another one of Don Diego’s thugs pick you up instead of me. Then I couldn’t protect you.”
She wrestled with her breath, trying to even it out, slow it down before she hyperventilated. “P-protect me?”
He couldn’t wedge his
fingers any farther into her skirt, so he settled for grasping the top of her panties and pulling up, tugging them into the seam of her sex, the fabric threading over her pulsing nub. “Yes. Come with me, now. I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you. You have my word.”
A shiver ran through her, but it wasn’t of fear. There was a solemnity to the oath he uttered that made goose bumps stand out on her arms. She’d long suspected the Russian had a thing for her, and this seemed to confirm it.
He gave one last tug of her panties and eased his hold on her, turning her around to face him. “Come.” He took her hand and led her toward the back door, nodding at the bouncer before he shoved the door open.