Claimed(24)

“Security is changing too,” Connor admitted. “We just hit a storage facility that was outfitted with land mines.”



Lennox frowned. “Well, that’s no good.”



“Make sure you let your people know. They’ll need to change their tactics before they go on any more runs.”



“Will do. Thanks for the heads-up.” The man’s gaze traveled back to Hudson, a smirk playing on his lips. “I see you brought some party favors tonight, Con.”



Hudson’s shoulders tensed. Was that it? Had Connor brought her here to… to be a party favor for his outlaw friends?



But he quickly squashed that thought by muttering, “She’s not here for that.”



“Pity.” Lennox smiled at Hudson, and she found herself relaxing at the seductive curve of his lips. “Come find me if you change your mind, love.”



As he wandered off, Hudson glanced at Connor apprehensively. “Does he own this place?”



Connor nodded. “Come on. I need a drink,” he said, rounding the bar.



Apparently this was a serve-yourself kind of establishment.



She worked up the courage to take another look around and noticed that Rylan had already made himself comfortable. He was sprawled on one of the couches with a tumbler in his hand and a beautiful woman in his lap. Skintight denim encased the woman’s legs, and her blond hair fell like a curtain over one shoulder, stopping right below her breasts. Her very bare breasts.



Rylan caught Hudson’s eye and winked. Then his hand moved in a slow caress down the blonde’s arm before curling to cup one firm breast.



Heat tingled in Hudson’s nipples, almost as if Rylan had touched her. She squeezed her thighs together and pulled her gaze away.



“What’s your poison?” Connor asked gruffly.



She stared at the top-notch alcohol lining the bar top, wondering what kind of payment Lennox demanded from his patrons for drinking his booze. Her heartbeat accelerated as a panicky notion came to mind. No. Nobody was going to lay a hand on her, damn it.



Her gaze landed on Connor’s strong hands as he rifled through bottles, and her breasts tingled harder, making her amend that last thought. Nobody was laying a hand on her unless she wanted them to.



She unwittingly glanced in Rylan’s direction again, her breath hitching when she saw his tongue dart out to taste his companion’s nipple.



“Tequila,” she choked out, her throat drier than dust.



“Look at those wide eyes,” Connor mocked. “Makes me think you’ve never seen people fucking before.”



“No, I…” She swallowed. “I have. I saw lots of things at… the camp.”



He poured two tumblers and walked back to her, leading her to a vinyl stool. “Relax, sweetheart.” He forced her to sit, then planted the glass in her hand, the mocking note never leaving his voice. “We’re here to have a good time.”



Was this his idea of a good time? Watching random people have sex? She was too afraid to ask, so she lowered her eyes and clutched her drink with such force she was surprised the glass didn’t shatter.



“Uh-uh, that won’t do.”



She flinched when his forceful grip captured her chin, yanking her head up.



“Watch,” he ordered.



Her heart raced faster. She was out of her element here. She didn’t want to watch. She didn’t want – oh fuck, but she did want to. Or at least her body wanted it. Her skin felt tight and achy, her nipples harder than the icicles that formed on the compound roof every winter. And that deep pulsing in her core. It was getting worse, spiking her body temperature, making her thighs tremble. She was painfully aware of the wetness between her legs, and a shiver flew up her spine as she focused on Rylan.



His face was buried between the blonde’s breasts, hands stroking up and down her bare back, hips rocking slightly as he rubbed his lips over one puckered nipple.



“Tell me what you see.” Connor’s rough demand was an echo of the one he’d voiced at the storage station, except it was different this time. He wasn’t asking her to assess security protocols. He was asking her to describe debauchery.



Hudson’s voice wobbled. “I see sex.”



Connor laughed. “No, not even close. Not yet anyway.”



He brought the tumbler to his lips, and Hudson was fascinated by the way his strong, corded throat strained as he drank.



“Don’t look at me,” he said sharply. “Look at Rylan. Look at her. And tell me what you see.”



She gulped her tequila. “He’s turning her on.”