PURPLE HEART - Soliders Of Fortune [BOOK TWO]

Chapter THIRTY EIGHT

Sunday 'Sunny' Santos

Max puffs out a frustrated breath, folding both hands behind his head, as if stretching out his tense muscles might help relieve his irritation.. Along with his flexing biceps his buttoned shirt creeps upwards, just high enough to flash me a glimpse of the sculpted olive marble beneath and remind me of the powerful masculine physique hidden under his clothes..

Ay, those muscles..
Those tattoos..
Those scars..
Each one sexier than the last, calling to be admired , to be caressed and kissed..

I had almost entirely forgotten about the Pakhan and his friend until Max speaks.. "Petrovich won't let us leave.."

"Por qué?" (why) Averting my lustful eyes, I glance around the moody, sensually decorated space.. Adorned in leather chairs, plush carpet, fluffy pillows, and an assortment of floggers and other devious devices, it is obvious what this room is meant for..

This is a sex club after all..

Hyper-aware of the provocative scene surrounding us, I try to ignore the sudden prickling heat that climbs my chest.. After all, I'm not exactly prepared to climb a mountain.. Not yet anyway..

But maybe I'm feeling brave enough to take a shot at reaching base camp?

"Because he's a prick, and a pervert.." Max scoffs, running his fingers back through his silky, ebony fade, the gentle locks of his hair swooping perfectly into place in their wake.. "He'll probably jack-off to the idea of us later tonight.. If he isn't already.."

"Ha-" I choke on an unexpected nervous giggle, unable to suppress the burning fiery blush that engulfs my face.. Wildfire fans across my flesh and my knees wobble a little beneath me.. "So they all think that we're in here-?"

"Fucking." Max grunts, clarifying exactly what the men outside are thinking..

"Ay, well, who could blame them for being curious?" I muse gently, earning a pleased smirk from The Loan Shark that makes my heart skip a beat..

"Mmh." Max agrees with a bemused hum before he sinks down onto the sofa.. His movement is tense and rippling with agitation as he settles in, unbuttoning his top two buttons to free the strangling hold of his starched collar.. A flash of black ink peaks out, as I spy the military markings that decorate his collarbone and chest..

"What about you?" I try to steady my breath, even while a flurry of butterflies flap about my nervous stomach.. Something about his stoic, rough nature makes his every glance like an arrow shot straight through my heart, causing my body to ache in places I never even knew I had.. "Do you ever think about- that?"

"Tsk- I thought you wanted us to be friends, Zakya.." He reminds me of my reservations with a scolding, yet playful tut.. But that doesn't stop the storm in his midnight blue eyes from darkening as they pierce through to my soul.. Changing me.. Challenging me.. Urging me to continue pushing the invisible boundary between us..