mouth the way his power crushed her doubts. Completely, deliciously. Unwilling to just surrender, she challenged. A tug sealed his hips to hers. A lusty moan encouraged answering growl.
Struggling with her own will and the urgent wants of her body, Cee Cee pushed away to pant, “Shut the door before anyone wanders by.”
A dark brow lifted. “Right here, right now?”
Her smile teased wickedly. “Right in Jimmy’s favorite chair.”
Without hesitation, Max went to secure the lock, turning to find Cee Cee balanced on the edge of the worn armchair, knees parted in irresistible invitation. He’d gone to his before that chair on many occasions but never for a reason that promised the gratification of this one. By the time he hit hardwood, she’d kicked out of her sensible shoes and shucked up her hem, leaving him the delightful duty of peeling down silky hose. Rough palms growled against nylon, sending them floating free. Hot skin stroked beneath strong, sleek thighs as he positioned them atop his shoulders. He dove between them, burying himself in her heat and dampness, absorbing the intoxicating scent of her excitement as he worked her with lips, tongue, and teeth. His mate. His love. His future.
Hurried gasps became gusty cries. By the time they crested, he’d shoved down his dress slacks to provide her a more intimate perch with those toned legs clasped tight about him. Hungry kisses punctuated quickly-accelerated breaths as she rode him the way she’d once done his motorcycle, gripping tight, fearlessly goading him to greater speed. From reckless start to dramatic, breath-stealing finish.
Long, languid minutes passed until Max whispered, “Shall we take this to the couch?”
She shook her head, damp tendrils of hair brushing his lips. “To bed.”
He nodded. “You’ve got an early morning. You need your sleep.”
“I do.” Her teeth nipped along his jaw. A whisper caressed his ear. “But not yet.”
– – –
Philo Tibideaux rarely visited Cheveux du Chien, not since he’d punched out his best friend, intent upon severing all ties forever. Though a call from Rico Terriot was the reason for his presence, tonight he wanted to see if that link was irreparably broken.
He and his baby brother had saved Jacques LaRoche when he’d been dumped in New Orleans without a name, a memory or a friend. They’d taken him in, given him shelter and purpose, helped him rebuild his life into a good one. Until a female from the North arrived to reclaim the past they’d shared.
At the time, Philo reacted as if betrayed, as if Jacques had assumed his Northern bodyguard persona to have Susanna Duchamps and the child they shared, turning his back on their friendship. In truth, the pain of being replaced at his side, first by Savoie’s promises, then by the lovely outsider, had forced that regrettable fracture. Whether encouraged by the passage of time or finding his own soulmate, Philo needed to make amends. If possible.
Jacques helmed the bar, towel draped over his shoulder as he delivered on-taps to fellas on his former crew. That crew at first had boycotted CdC out of loyalty to Philo as their new foreman but had slowly drifted back to fill tables that catered to their kind, having more sense and less stubborn pride than he did.
As Philo stared down at the gleaming bar top, searching for a non-humiliating way to apologize, a frothy glass appeared under his nose.
“On the house,” LaRoche announced, drawing his gaze. All hesitation fell away.
“I’m getting married, and I need you there at my side.”
LaRoche’s response cut right to the heart. “I never left it.” His big hand squeezed Philo’s tatted forearm before he traveled to the other end of the bar to answer the wave of an empty glass.
Philo was still grinning down into his beer when the co-leader of his Patrol plopped down on the stool beside him.
Rico Terriot was another of life’s big surprises, a blessing he’d stumbled over by accident. Who’da thought the brash redhead possessed the gift of inspiring loyalty in those who found little to believe in. His warrior clan’s reputation as fighters had led Philo to agree, though reluctantly, to take him on as a temporary trainer of his undisciplined Patrol. In less than a month, Terriot had forged a unit as sturdy and strong as his iron will. Loyalty wasn’t something an outsider could demand on the docks. Rico earned it through sacrifice and shared loss while uncovering enemies thought to be friends in their midst. He’d paid the price and bore the scars