Antidote by LC Lehesaho

39

Max Navarro's place was empty when we paid a visit to his driveway before going to the hotel. His house was at the town's border without neighbors, luckily, and a guard dog in the yard, not so luckily. It was the main reason why we didn't get out of the car. A huge rottweiler jumped and barked around the car, drool flying all over our windows as if it had rabies or something, but I think it was just excited to chew its way into the car to eat us.

Tiger hates dogs.

It took me a moment to talk him out of his plan to shoot it. I don't know why he can't stand dogs, but the hatred toward those animals is profound. He likes cats, though, which I find kind of funny. Sometimes I call him kitty, and he fucking hates it.

We also have a couple of night clubs on the list where Navarro might be, so after picking up burgers (and fries, milkshakes, nuggets, and soda) from the drive-through, we came to the hotel to get ready for our tour.

Falcon prepared me well. Because we've been tailed, our pictures have probably been in many hands, and my pink hair… it sticks out in a crowd. So, after showering and transforming myself to blend in, I stare at my reflection. None of the tattoos on my upper body are visible, thanks to the long-sleeved lace dress. The black color brings out my tan nicely, and I kind of like the polo collar, even though they aren't usually my thing. My neck looks stunning, which is a weird thing to say about a neck, but it does. Classy. The dress ends mid-thigh, and that length leaves the skull tattoo on my thigh on display, but luckily it hasn't been exposed other than on the beach.

I surprise myself by not completely hating the high heels she gave me. They are as high as the heels I wore at Purgatory, so I'm sure I can get through the night even though I'm not a pro at walking in heels.

I fluff the curls I managed to make by memorizing Elena's instructions and smack my red lips. I look nothing like myself.

A butterfly army is taking up residence in my stomach, and I need a Zen-moment before leaving the bathroom. Tiger agreed to take it easy, and so far, he's been behaving, restraining himself. Even though it's obviously extremely hard for him, that he is struggling not to be all over me makes me love him even more. Now that I agreed that we'll find a way to be together and come out of the closet without dying in the process, he's so fucking happy that it melts my heart.

But starting this is also scary as hell, so I've been sweating bullets next to him all day. Which is ridiculous because we've known each other for five years, and not to mention that we've already had sex, but... it feels like I've never even kissed him.

I'm nervous as fuck.

Just breathe.

Breathe.

"Can we fucking go?" Tiger's vexed voice comes through the door. "I'm bored."

My heart jumps to my throat as I blink at my reflection. Holy fuck. I clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Just breathe.

I smooth my dress and take a breath before opening the door.

Tiger stands behind it, a phone in his hand, eyes on the screen, but in a second, he lifts his gaze. His eyes widen as he takes me in, and I feel the fucking sweat pouring down my neck.

"Your hair…" His eyes stop to stare at the curls.

"Falcon thought it would be better to color it for a cover-up. What do you think?" I ask, uncomfortable with the change.

Tiger rakes his hand over his face, and I see his throat bob as he swallows. "It's… different. It's like… super blonde." My anxiousness clearly shines from my face as he quickly corrects. "You look stunning. It suits you. Seriously."

I smooth the dress, letting out a sigh. "Huh, thanks."

I take in Tiger's gray button-up shirt; it's the hipster version, not a dress shirt, and hugs his frame in all the right places. Black jeans with sneakers that are top-notch, and as always, he looks hot. Way too sexy for his own good. The dark hair is boyishly messy at the top, and I remember how it felt in my fingers when he went down on me.

My lace undies are soaking instantly, and I have to fight to keep a poker face. This is not the time for me to start sending vibes to him.

I tamp down the heat and stride past him on my heels to grab my purse containing the gun and other necessities like a wallet and phone. I pull the strap for my blades from the duffel bag and lift my leg to the chair to wrap it around my right thigh—high enough so it stays hidden.

While I slide two thin blades in the strap, I see Tiger watching me through narrowed eyes. There's heat in them that I've become very familiar with recently. It makes my heart skip multiple beats and my abdomen tingles with anticipation.

Only after I've placed the blades where they belong, smoothed my dress, and taken a deep breath do I actually look at him.

There's a wicked smile playing on his lips, his handsome face oozing some sinister vibes. Tiger has placed his hands in his jeans pockets, and I try not to look at the bulge between them. Goddammit.

Letting out a sigh, I turn to the door. "Let's go, and please, whatever you're planning to say, don't. Now is really not the time for it, 'cause we need to work."

For once in his life, he actually obeys and keeps his damn mouth shut. I still feel his eyes on my ass as I walk out, and he stays behind me on purpose even when we walk through the hotel's hallway. It makes me way too aware of myself, so I slow down and place myself at his side. Tiger smirks at me sinfully but doesn't say anything.

Thank fuck.

When we get out to the Explorer, and I lift my hand to the passenger side door handle, Tiger's hand reaches past me and opens the door for me. I feel his body right behind mine, nearly touching, and his warm breath in my ear.

"Let me help." His voice is just a whisper in my ear, but it echoes inside me like thunder, making me shiver. The dark, manly scent of his—cig and leather—sneak right behind the thunder and acts like fucking lighting, striking straight to my core.

Just with that, not even touching me, Tiger makes my knees weak.

His hand slides down from my arm to my palm, giving me support to climb in.

I'm way too tempted to turn around and jump him, so I pull my hand away. Because I know myself, and more so, I know Tiger. If I start something now...

We won't leave the hotel.

"I'm fine, thanks," I mutter and climb in—coming to face the fact that I should've just accepted the help, even with the risks. With a tight short dress and heels, it's not an easy job.

"I like that you kept something pink on you now that you had to dye your hair," Tiger states with a grin when I finally get my ass on the seat.

My cheeks burn when I realize what he means—my pink lace undies.

"Gosh, must you?"

"I offered to help, baby."

I roll my eyes. "Such a fucking gentleman you are."

Tiger makes a stupid bow with an amused smile before closing the door and walking around the car. I have a feeling that working with him is going to be quite hard tonight.

“Somebody's Watching Me” by Chico Rose and 71 Digits plays at the club as we walk through the crowd toward the bar. It's full of people, and before I even realize I’m doing it, I’m reaching behind my back for Tiger's hand. It's nothing new; we’ve always walked hand in hand in crowded clubs, but now...

His hand electrifies my whole body—even more than before.

We make our way to the bar and I let go of him as I slide myself between two guys at the counter, who clearly aren’t from the same group. The guy on the right turns to look at me, and the corners of his mouth turn up as he watches me. I give him a lackluster smile, the one you give to strangers in social situations, so you don't have to say anything, but you've somehow acknowledged them.

But the dude apparently has something to say, because he leans closer.

Before he gets a word out, a muscular arm slides over my left shoulder, a hand possessively covering my breast, and the other hand comes to lean on the counter—the one that is tattooed all the way to the knuckles. Tiger's bulging muscles press against my back as his lips come next to my ear. "Order me a drink, baby." I feel his lips touching my earlobe. "Please."

The guy instantly reconsiders and turns back to his friends.

I turn my head to look over my shoulder, meeting his eyes, which look even darker than usual in the dim light, but I still see the wickedness in them. Tiger is always wicked—no matter how well he behaves, how gentle he is—it's there.

He has sin flowing in his bloodstream.

Good thing that I've always been unholy.

Tiger brushes my cheek with his lips and it feels like my blood could ignite from that gentle touch alone.

"Hey, have you been served yet?" A woman's voice talks to me behind the counter, and I flip my gaze toward her.

I need to clear my throat to talk, but my voice is still octaves lower and breathless as I speak. The whole time as I order, wait, and pay for our drinks, Tiger nuzzles my neck, making my legs weak. Luckily his hand is around me, keeping me up.

We get our drinks, and after taking a sip, I turn around without him easing his hold even the slightest. Thanks to my high heels, I don't have to look up at him so much—just a little.

Tiger slides his cheek against mine, talking straight in my ear. "You have to find Navarro, and I'm your cover. He'll recognize you even with dyed hair if you've been close enough to see his dick."

He has a point there.

"Let me look around to see if I can see him," I whisper, knowing that he can hear me because we're practically face-to-face. Sliding my hand up to his carved stomach, over his hard pecs, to the nape of his neck, I pull him to me, and the temptation to kiss him is making me quiver.

Still, I feel like playing a little, so I don't. The look in Tiger's eyes tells me that he wants to eat me alive. But I only lean my face to his shoulder, peeking over it to the crowd.

I feel him take a deep breath, like he’s keeping himself together.

A smug smile pulls the corners of my mouth up.

I can see nearly half of the club and I roam my eyes over the crowd, finding the mohawk I remember Navarro having. The shitty thing is that Navarro isn't very tall, so he probably won't stand out from the crowd.

There is a lounge area with booths on the other side of the dance floor. I can see a lot of people sitting in every one of them, but there's one booth that primarily draws my attention. One guy is standing on the side of it, like he’s guarding someone.

"Kitty," I whisper, with our unusual names I don't want anyone to pay attention. Tiger bites my neck, and my insides flutter, goose bumps rising on my skin.

"Baby girl," he answers, warning in his tone. It makes me smile—teasing him is always exciting.

"The booth behind the dance floor," I murmur and lean back, so he takes the hint. Tiger straightens, taking a look over his shoulder, while I take a gulp of my drink. His eyes come to me, arching one brow. I shrug. "I dunno. I need to get closer to see clearer."

Tiger swigs his drink down in one take and winks at me. "C'mon, baby girl."

He pulls me to the dance floor with him, and my heart rate skyrockets. “Breaking Me” by Topic booms from the stereos and the strobe lights flash to the beat of the music as he makes way for us through the crowd. People around us are grinding against each other, and the heat on the dance floor is through the roof. Literally and metaphorically. It doesn't help with the heatwave I'm currently riding.

I've never been on the dance floor with Tiger.

Yeah, we did things behind closed doors, but something like this...

Tiger stops at the spot where there is a view to the right booth. He turns to me, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me against him, and leans to my ear. "Move for me, baby."

"This is not—"

He cuts me off by spinning me around, my back against his chest, and his firm grip on my waist keeps me there like glue. "Stop being a chickenshit, baby girl. I know you can dance. I've seen you." At that, he starts to move, swaying me with him. I'm momentarily stunned that Tiger has a perfect sense of rhythm. I shouldn't be surprised, though; Tiger moves smoothly even when he is fighting.

My body melts instantly against his like it's the most natural thing to do.

I realize that I've placed my hands over his on my waist, moving right along with him. The music draws me in, and it feels nice. Liberating like dancing always is.

And I give in.

Soon, I lean my head back on his shoulder, rocking my hips to the beat. I let the rhythm sink into me and bring my other hand to my hair, enjoying the freedom. Tiger's other hand comes to my stomach, and I feel him breathing next to my cheek.

It's not the only thing I feel.

He's growing hard against my ass, and the only thing on my mind is how fucking good he felt inside me. My blood is running hot enough to torch me, and the heat pools in my abdomen, liquifying me.

The song changes, waking me up enough to remember that I am supposed to find out if Navarro is here. The booth is behind Tiger, so I turn around, sliding my hands to his neck.

The smoldering gaze he gives me has me catching my breath and I feel my stomach doing backflips. He pulls me tighter against him, one hand on the small of my back and the other on my ass. I melt into him and roll my hips, increasing the spark between us.

Tiger presses our brows together, lips inches away from mine.

"Baby."

"Mmhh?"

"Look over my shoulder, is he there?"

Oh, fuck. Yes, we are supposed to be working.

I press my face to his shoulder, eyeing the booth from my cover. We keep dancing, Tiger still surprising me at how fucking good he is at this.

Four guys are sitting in the booth, one has a girl in his lap, and one guy is still standing outside of it. I narrow my eyes, focus, and recognize the mohawk under the flickering lights. Max Navarro.

He's going to get himself a night to remember. Or he would if he made it out alive. Which he won't, obviously.

I pick my head up to whisper in Tiger's ear. "It's him. Right next to the guy with a girl in his lap."

Tiger turns us around, so I'm back against the booth. "The mohawk?"

"Yeah."

He brings his face against mine, brows to brows. I breathe in his scent, euphoria spreading into every cell in me. The hand on my ass stays still, but the other one trails up my spine, making me shiver as it goes, and then his fingers thread through my strands, gripping the base of my neck.

"Then, we'll probably stay right here until he leaves," Tiger whispers low against my mouth, his lips still not touching mine.

I sway with the music, as does he, and let it sink in once more. This is so easy with him, and for the first time, I can breathe freely. We're not in Shangri-la, our family is not with us, no one’s telling us this is wrong. I can just fucking enjoy his company.

The closeness I crave from him—what I've always desired.

Us together—without any shackles keeping us apart, or lines we are not supposed to cross.

The music changes again, “Dusk till Dawn” by ZAYN, and it feels like time is stopping. All I see is him, his heated eyes on mine, lips inches away from mine, his hands on my body.

I close the distance between our lips, sinking into him without any restraints whatsoever, and Tiger opens up for me like I'm the one he's been waiting for, for ages.

At least, he is the one I've been waiting for, but I've been too afraid to admit it.

But I'm not scared anymore. We nearly destroyed each other, ripping each other apart limb by limb, yet we still breathe. After all the fucked-up shit we did to each other, Tiger still owns my heart, and I own his. We survived the battle, which we fought against the biggest opponent of them all—ourselves.

As Tiger said—I'm the Phoenix, but the fact is that he is the fire inside me, and we are ready to fly.

A throaty growl from his chest vibrates through me, making me shiver as Tiger pulls back.

"I'm going to break my promise, baby girl," he says huskily.

"Which one?"

"About taking it slow. I want to put my hand inside your pink panties and finger fuck you, I also want to make your eyes water when I thrust my dick in your mouth," he says without batting an eye. "Not sure yet of the order though."

Those pink panties have gone through many heat waves in one night, that’s for sure. My cheeks flush, and I have to swallow to be able to speak. "Well, neither of those are happening on this dance floor, so..."

Tiger looks around like he’s searching for a corner for privacy, for whatever he wants to do to me, but then he frowns. "He's leaving."

I force myself not to look. "Alone?"

"Yup." His eyes land on mine, and he sweeps his thumb over my lips. "I can't wait to see these around me. I'm gonna make you fucking gag." Then he sighs, dropping his hands before taking mine into his. "C'mon. Work before pleasure or whatever."

I can't do anything but blink, stunned by the vivid images he put in my head. Yeah, I'm indeed focused on working right now.