by Eden Winters
He returned a few moments later and skidded to a halt a few feet from Lucky. “You wanna do the honors, or you want me to?”
“I don’t care, as long as those suckers burn.” And the sooner the better. No more condoms for Lucky ever again.
Bo tossed in a handful. Then a whole unopened box.
Ah, what a pretty sight, the hints of color the rubbers added to the flames. Smelled like hell, but still pretty. Lucky stood watching the flames destroy them, arm around Bo’s waist. “You get them all?”
“I think so.”
“Bathroom? Bedside table?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Your wallet, the couch cushions, the glovebox? The Harley’s saddlebags?”
“Oh. Be right back.” Bo took off like a shot, Moose chasing behind him. Damn if the mutt’s barking didn’t sound like laughter.
“What ‘cha doin’ over there?” the neighbor called from his side of their shared fence.
Oh shit. One introduction and now they’d never get rid of the guy. “I could tell you, but trust me, it’d be too much information.” There. Let him chew on that.
Bo came back and dug packets out of all his pockets. How many condoms did they own?
As long as the answer from here on out was none, who cared?
Bo dragged two lounge chairs up near the fire. They sat in the chairs, holding hands, watching the flames getting smaller and smaller.
“Happy now?” Bo brought their joined hands up to his mouth and kissed Lucky’s knuckles.
“Not there yet, but close.”
Bo’s eyes shone by the light of the dying embers and the security light Lucky installed before they moved in. Nice out here this time of evening. He’d take Bo back to the store and grin and nod while he picked out some patio furniture.
Later.
Bo forced his tongue between two of Lucky’s fingers.
Much later.
If he’d been made a bit taller, a bit stockier—with longer arms—he’d have Bo over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and hauling ass for the bedroom. Hell, he could get Bo over his shoulder, but Bo’s height meant he’d drag.
But then someone had to go and whack a hole in Lucky’s side, putting his dragging men days on hold for a while. Racing wasn’t happening. Lucky settled for a fast shuffle.
Bo paused long enough to put out the fire and still beat Lucky into the house and got bathwater running. Lucky let Moose and Cat Lucky in, fed them, and locked up for the night.
A hot bath and a little one-on-one time… Lucky ambled down the hall and strode into the bedroom, a single thing on his mind.
Bo met him at the bathroom door.
Suddenly the candles he’d laid out and scented oils he’d bought to give Bo a massage fell down on Lucky’s priority list.
Bo said, “I’m glad you’re feeling bet—”
Lucky body slammed his lover against the nearest wall and proceeded to squeeze any air out from between their bodies.
Breathing. Highly overrated.
Lucky sealed his mouth to Bo’s, cutting off his protest by deepening the kiss. No doctor’s orders, no worries about “Is it too soon?” or anything else would stop him or even slow him down. Hands up the front of Bo’s shirt, Lucky ran his fingers through a light covering of chest hair and swallowed Bo’s gasp of surprise.
Carefully, so as not to make Bo feel trapped or restrained, he raised their hands over his head, skimmed his fingers down Bo’s arms, and broke the kiss long enough to yank Bo’s shirt up and off. The heat in Bo’s eyes might melt him, but what a way to go.
Bo got with the program, returning the favor, shirt-wise. They both toed off their shoes. Hands. Everywhere at once. Removing jeans, palming a butt cheek, running up firm abs, or in Lucky’s case, Bo running a gentle finger near Lucky’s scar, not getting too close.
Lucky turned Bo around to stand spread-eagled. Damn, but he looked good against a wall. Lucky rose on his toes, softly biting the spot where shoulder and neck came together. Bo moaned. One of many lustful sounds he’d make tonight.
Working his way down Bo’s back, kneading, licking, biting, sucking, Lucky reacquainted himself with the hottest man he’d ever met. Bo’s running showed in his muscles, firm and cut enough to stand out, stopping short of being bulky.
Lucky kissed every freckle and ended up on his knees, fondling the wonderful fullness of Bo’s glutes, biting, stroking. He reached lower to play with Bo’s balls and ran a hand upward. Oh yeah. Fully hard.
His probing finger met little resistance and a whole lot of ready to go. Wow, Bo’d prepped fast! Lucky groaned, resting his head on Bo’s ass. Bo. Ready. Now. Maybe he’d missed their loving as much as Lucky had.
Bo bucked back, rocking Lucky’s head, jarring him from his fight for control.
Lucky rose, rubbing his hand where he’d rested his head. Bo spread his legs wider, bringing him down to the perfect height.
Lucky positioned himself and slid inside, imagining Bo’s preparations. Lube. The toy from the bedside drawer. Oh, man. And he hadn’t gotten to watch.
But this beat any toy: slick, hot, home. Bo pushed back, establishing a rhythm. No barriers between them now or ever again. Lucky kissed Bo’s back, sliding in and out, reaching around to work Bo’s cock to the rhythm of their thrusts.
Nothing existed but the two of them, the scent of Bo and sex, their breathing, the slap of flesh against flesh. But no. Too hard. Too fast.
Withdrawing nearly killed him.
“Wha…” Bo glanced back over his shoulder.
Lucky turned Bo and locked their lips together for a slow shuffle across the floor, the closest thing to dancing they’d done in a while. Dancing. Give him a few weeks, and he’d take Bo out dancing. To dinner. Whatever the man wanted.
But for now, he guided them both across the floor to their bed.
Their bed. Their home. Their lives.
And nothing to fear after all. How had he lived before Bo?
Bo shoved Lucky backward on the bed. Forceful, huh? Oh, hell yeah! Lucky lay back, hypnotized by the play of light over Bo’s muscles while Bo settled himself on top, closed his eyes, and let out a breathy sigh when he slid down Lucky’s cock.
Bo splayed his hands on Lucky’s chest, rising and falling, his gaze fused to Lucky’s. He stopped and bent to join their mouths and tongues.
Palming whatever parts he got his hands on, Lucky urged the action on, thrusting upward to meet Bo’s coming down. Hot, sweaty, man on man. Grunts, groans, and bed squeaks all became the sweetest music.
Every stroke, every so-damned-good-it-nearly-hurt stroke, brought Lucky closer and closer. To climax, to Bo, to shattering into a million pieces.
Those pieces would come back together as a better man.
Bo bent for another kiss, stoking his cock, his movements jerky and erratic.
Lucky grabbed Bo’s ass and held on through the tremors, releasing his hold on his own control. Together they rocked through the earthquake, clinging to each other.
Bo collapsed beside him, pure joy bursting out of him on a laugh.
Running a lazy hand down Bo’s side, Lucky put all other thoughts out of his mind. He’d live in the moment.
In the distance, his phone rang. Too comfortable to move, he remained still, catching his breath, Bo’s come cooling on his belly.
When their breathing slowed, they shifted enough for him to place his head on Bo’s chest, taking comfort in Bo’s throbbing heartbeat. Why had he ever been afraid of commitment? Of loving the best thing to ever happen to him? Like hell would he ever let go.
Forever. He wanted forever. The rings lay in his pocket on the floor. Getting up to find them took energy. He’d get them later.
“Bo, would you—”
Bo’s soft snores ended the moment.
Later. He’d ask again later.
He lay for a moment, trailing his fingers over Bo’s chest. Where was the splashing noise coming from?
Oh, dear God!
Lucky shot out of the bed, tripped over Cat Lucky, and crawled into the bathroom on his knees in time to witness a white, furry butt disappear over the rim of the tub. Water sloshed onto the floor.
“Moose!” Lucky lunged for the running faucet. Ow! Had to remember not to stretch too far.
Moose, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, lunged too, splashing more water and chasing Lucky’s hand.
Ewww… Wet dog. Huge mess.
Not the way the night should’ve ended.
But it ended with Bo in Lucky’s bed, their shared roof over their heads, Lucky’s family calling every five minutes simply to say hello, and all right in the world.
Not a bad deal.
He checked his phone:
Richie, me and the boys are coming down, since it’s a long weekend and Daddy’s doing fine. You’ll be home, right?
Yup. All right in the world.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Bo sat in the living room, wearing blue jeans and no shirt, laptop on his lap. “I wanted to show you this last night, but we got… um… distracted.”
Lucky dropped down to stare at the screen—a hard thing to do with his lover’s bare chest competing for his attention.
Holy crap. Bank records. Carefully planned deposits under one company name, all large but under ten grand so as not to draw too much attention or trigger an inquiry from the Internal Revenue Service.
Lucky checked out the entity. A front. The company’s webpage showed buyer-guy’s picture from the warehouse and little else.
“Curtis Allison, or one of his many aliases,” Bo said. “The guy I was assigned to.”
And the scum never realized where Bo’s true loyalties lay. But then again, Bo excelled at undercover work. “They catch him?”
“Not yet, but he’s joined the DEA’s most wanted list. Only a matter of time, especially since we’ve got a recorded admission to having your brother killed, and I saw him shoot the supplier.”
Hmm… Maybe a friendly note to Lucky’s guardian devils might be in order.
Bo slid a finger over the touch-screen, scrolling down to more bank records. “See these deposits?”
Lucky studied the amounts, the dates, the… “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Not if I can help it.” Bo kissed his nose. “Bristol used his bank job to arrange these payments, laundering money for Allison and others in the organization.” He called up Bristol’s personal account information. “The payments spiked here. He got greedy and tried to extort money from people he shouldn’t have messed with.”
“And they killed him.”
Bo nodded. “I’m sorry. If I’d been in place in time…”
“Wasn’t your fault.”
“Still, he was as good as my brother-in-law.” Bo took Lucky’s hand.
Brother-in-law meant marriage. Now might not be the best time, but… “Bo, I…”
The doorbell rang. Damn it!
Bo closed his laptop. “I do believe my sister-in-law and nephews are here.”
Five minutes too soon.
***
Lucky sat next to Bo at a round corner booth, with Charlotte beside him and the two boys next to Bo. Man, they’d grown up. They were still a bit gawky, and Ty carried some extra weight around his middle, but he’d burn the excess off with his next growth spurt.
Both boys piled their plates high with pizza from the buffet. So far, Bo hadn’t said anything about Lucky’s four slices of meat lover’s. But he’d better watch out or he’d put on a few pounds before the doctor cleared him for intense workouts.
Ty stuck to the veggie and cheese pizzas and sat really close to Bo.
Served Lucky right for not being there. Now the kid sucked up any male attention.
But wait. Did they have their phones out?
Heh. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day. “Um… Bo, don’t you always tell me it’s rude to have your phone out at the table?”
“What?” Bo paused with a pizza slice halfway to his mouth, a lovely flush filling his cheeks. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was just showing Ty something.”
Ty slipped his phone beneath the table and traded guilty looks with Bo.
“Seems like old times,” Charlotte said, toasting Lucky and Bo with a glass of sweet tea. “Bo, did Richie here tell you that whenever he came to visit, the first thing we’d do is go out for pizza?”
Uh-oh. Bo’s evil half-smile didn’t bode well for Lucky. “No, Richie didn’t.”
“Yeah, Vic…” Her smile fell. “Crap. Me and my big mouth. Sorry, y’all.”
Bo reached across the table and took her hand. “It’s okay. I know all about Lucky and Victor Mangiardi.”
She cut her eyes toward Bo and back to Lucky.
“Really. It’s okay. Please, finish what you were saying.” Bo leaned in. His ears might start flapping any minute now.
Charlotte waited, a question in her eyes. Good for her. After all this time she still had her brother’s back. Lucky nodded. While he didn’t flaunt his past in front of his present and future, it was a bit late to start hiding.
With his permission, Charlotte took off and ran. “Victor liked restaurants with valet parking, if you get my meaning. He didn’t like throwing back pizza and beer with us rednecks.”
Funny. Someone recently sent Lucky a photo of Victor and Walter, of all people, munching pizza.
Bo leaned in some more. “You don’t say.” Any farther and he’d topple over into Charlotte’s lap.
“You’ve met me, right?” Lucky tossed in. “Then you know I’m redneck.”
The waiter strolled by with a pitcher of tea. Everyone but Bo held up their glasses for more. “Thank you, hon,” Charlotte said.
Bo wasn’t finished digging up embarrassing facts about Lucky. “Charlotte, if you don’t mind my asking, you’ve been living up north for years, and L… Richie’s never lived out of the south. So how come your Southern accent is thicker than his?”
If looks could kill, Bo would be dialing 9-1-1. Just wait until they got home.
“Well… there’s two reasons, really.” She waited for Lucky’s nod again. “Being around Victor exposed him to high falutin’ rich folks. They kinda rubbed off.”
What? “Did not!” He did not sound like Victor or his rich-assed friends.
“Did too!” Charlotte stuck out her tongue.
Strange how whenever they got together, they still acted like kids.
Bo broke up the fight. “You said two reasons. What’s the other?’
Charlotte smiled, so much like the devious girl she’d once been. “’Cause I talk like this on girl’s night out at the club and never pay for a single drink.”
“Mom!” Todd shouted.
“What?” She raised a brow in her oldest son’s direction. “You’re grown and practically out of the house now. I don’t have to pretend I’m perfect no more.”
“You’ll always be perfect to me,” Ty said, batting his eyes.
“No, you’re not getting a new truck, so stop buttering me up. You’ll drive my car to get your license like your brother did.” Damn, she did sound more Southern than Lucky.
Ty wilted. “Yes, ma’am.”
She kept the truth to herself, but Lucky didn’t have to be a genius to figure out her secret. Weekly calls to the parents probably left her talking like she’d left the farm only yesterday. And no rubbing Lucky’s nose in the painful truth.
Hell, in a year or so, Lucky might revert to his old speech patterns. Who knew?
“What we doing the rest of the day?” Charlotte asked.
“I dunno. What you got in mind?” Lucky’s recovery left hiking Stone Mountain out of a list of possibilities.
She flashed her wicked smile again. “You ain’t tried to outshoot me lately. Reckon you still can?”
He’d love to, but running off to the range wouldn’t be fair to… What was with the phones? Bo, Todd, and Ty all had their heads together and their phones out again, fingers racing lightning quick across
the keyboards.
“What are y’all doing?” Charlotte cocked her head to the side, angling for a view of the phones.
Three phones fell, three guilty looks rose.
With a series of exchanged glances, the trio apparently nominated Bo as spokesman. He placed his phone on the table. “It’s this game. We all three play and, well, there’s lots of stuff to collect around here.”
A game? Oh! A game! “I’ll bet there’s lots of pookies or puffballs or whatever hiding all around Atlanta. Why don’t you drive the boys around a bit? I’m sure they’re getting bored hearing me and Charlotte talk about old times.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
Chances to be the good guy didn’t often fall in Lucky’s lap. “Sure. Drop me and Char off at the house. We’ll watch a movie or something. Give you fellas some bonding time.”
Bo flicked a suspicious gaze between Lucky and Charlotte. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“We’re sure,” Lucky and his sister replied together.
The moment Bo let them out of the car at the house, Lucky asked, “You don’t have your gun on you, do you?”
“Nah, gotta get it outta the house.”
They waited in the driveway for Bo to leave with the boys before they grabbed Char’s gun, Lucky’s .38, climbed into Lucky’s Camaro, and headed to the shooting range. No way she’d match him. He’d scored top marksman in the department three years running.
Only a handful of people filled the range. Lucky strolled down to the end, slipped on earmuffs, and handed a pair to Charlotte. “Ladies first.”
His sister let out a snort. “If you think I’m a lady, you obviously don’t remember all the times I kicked your ass.”
Yes, he did. And she’d ambushed him on a regular basis.
She still had perfect stance, even if the last time they’d shot together had been beer bottles off fence posts. She tore the hell out of the center of a paper man-shaped target.
When they left the range, most of the men who’d ogled her on the way in gave her wide berth. Smart fellas.
Lucky kept the target to send to Jimmy up in Virginia, lest he get any ideas about following through on his interest in Charlotte.
“You didn’t beat me.” Lucky hadn’t won by much though.