His hand snaked down her stomach and cupped her sex. “Sounds like you’re definitely thinking about me naked.” He started to rub her, hard and slow. “You know what I’m thinking about? I’m thinking about laying you on this desk and having you for dessert.” His mouth found her earlobe and tugged. Sweet shivers worked down her spine. “I’m thinking that if your mouth tastes so good, then your pussy will taste even better.”
He pressed the heel of his palm to her core and Cheri arched off his lap, molding to his touch. This was so not her turning the tables on him. But it felt so good.
Too good.
Get it together.
Bo kissed his way down her neck, her shoulder. He lifted her hand and licked her palm, the wet heat of his tongue zinged straight down to her clit. He left her hand to rest on the back of his neck, trailing his fingers down the sensitive underside of her arm, past her rib cage, and then to the top of her pants.
She arched, the move pushing his fingers further down, tickling so near her core. She needed him just to touch her. To release this pent-up frustration and need.
“If you tell me what you know about your cousin and Frankie, I can help you and I can protect Lamont.” He was so close now she could practically feel the heat from his fingers. “Tell me.”
His words washed over her like a bucket of ice water.
Cheri shot off his lap and didn’t stop until she had the doorframe clutched in her hands for support.
He’d done it again; he’d turned her game back on her.
Bo’s midnight blue eyes were nearly black, his hardness so evident in those tight pants. He didn’t try to hide it either. He just lounged back and let her look her fill, his gaze filled with the calm assurance she would fall to his touch. Such confidence…
Except his chest rose and fell, hard and fast. He was as close to the edge as she.
Cheri lifted her chin and leaned a hip against the doorframe. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Bo growled, and she felt the vibrations across the room. “My work is in this room. Come here.”
“No.”
“That’s not how this works, Cheri.”
“It is now,” she said, working to hide the tremor his words evoked.
Whether she liked it or not.
Bo sucked in a deep breath, and she braced herself for his assault, but he surprised her when he raked a hand through his hair and blew out a long sigh. “I thought you wanted this. You’ve made it very clear. What’s changed?”
She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “I thought you didn’t want this. What changed with you?”
She couldn’t risk getting in deep, not with Dupree’s money missing. Even if deep in her soul she felt different, and it didn’t have anything to do with her cousin.
“Nothing’s changed. I’m not looking for a relationship, but I can’t pretend like last night didn’t happen either.”
“I can.”
“I think you’re lying, Cheri. You’re lying to yourself and to me.”
She shrugged, going for nonchalant even though she felt ready to erupt. “Maybe.”
She tensed, waiting for his explosion. Instead, Bo watched her silently, and she had to pull on every ounce of control in her arsenal not to shift uncomfortably. Finally, after what felt like hours, he said, “I’m beginning to see a stubborn streak in you.”
Her lips quirked up in response. “Just now?”
Bo shrugged. “Maybe.”
Laughter burst from her lips. He was good. Magnificent actually. “I like how you used my own words against me.”
His crooked smile caught her off guard, and her heart tripped over itself. “I aim to please.”
“You’ve succeeded.” She slapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t do anything to take the telling words back.
Bo’s rich laughter boomed through the room, his amusement making his eyes sparkle. She wanted to go to him, throw her arms around his neck and hug in some warmth. Instead, she stayed right where she was. “Now, if you could transform into an accountant, I’d have to reward you.”
“You got an extra pencil?”
14
Bo stared at Cheri’s ledger in growing shock. He hadn’t seen math or handwriting this terrible since third grade. “How do you keep this place open?”
Cheri gave him a casual shrug, and her mischievous smile faded into a frown. “We’re the only bar in town. Believe me, we’re running in the black. I just don’t know by how much.”
“You know Fortune 500 companies have gone out of business because they didn’t keep up with their books, right? How do you know your bartender isn’t skimming under the table? How do you know how much profit you’re making off the drinks and the food or whether you need to change prices? Hell, how do you even know everyone’s paying for their drinks?”
Again, with the shrug, as if she didn’t care, but she totally ruined the effect by worrying her bottom lip. “Because I’m pretty much the one who does the bartending, the cooking…”
And he’d thought she needed a little discipline. She needed a truckload.
He wanted to show her. “Where’s your cousin in all this? Out working for Frankie?”
Her lip trembled. She held up a hand and took a step back, warning him away. “Don’t.” She stopped talking, her green eyes turning dark moss. “I can’t handle your constant hot and cold right now.” She tore her gaze from his. “I have to get these books done.”
Bo blew out a long breath, searching for the calm center that seemed to have gone AWOL. He’d come here tonight intending to pin Cheri and Lamont together and question them about Fresh’s list of associates. Instead, he’d lost it again and tried to screw her in the back office.
If he’d had an ounce of integrity or gentleness, he’d have held her, comforted her and wiped her tears, and then left. Instead, he’d touched and tasted her, reveling in each moan, each cry he’d wrung from her.
The collection of evidence that he truly was an uncaring bastard grew each second. His shoulder’s tensed and his hands fisted on the table, the injured pencil bending in his grip.
His last deployment had sapped his humanity and fundamentally changed his soul.
The memories from Afghanistan loomed at the periphery of his mind, and he threw up an instant block. Now wasn’t the time for a trip down nightmare lane.
The pencil snapped.
Cheri’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Are you okay?”
Bo closed his eyes and concentrated on his heart rate, forcing his fingers to unwrap one at a time. The pencil clinked softly onto the desk once again in two pieces.
The lack of control over his emotions right now made his stomach churn. As a Marine and now as Sheriff his discipline had made him what he was: good at his job.
And Cheri Boudreaux shorted his wiring and blew the fuse on his restraint.
“Sometimes I forget how strong I am.” And how fucked up in the head I am.
Her smile was a weak response considering the questioning look on her face. “You pick up some new superhuman powers recently? I know Spiderman had some trouble.”
“Not aware of any recent spider bites.” Because if he had even the least amount of power right now, he’d shut down his feelings and pretend like she meant nothing to him. “Cheri, I think Lamont’s involved with the body we found last night. And if it’s true, your silence is only putting him in more danger.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line and held silent, the move as telling as if she’d spilled all her secrets. She knew something, something she wasn’t willing to share. “You haven’t said much about the body.”
“I can’t, not until the investigation is finished.” Which would be a lot sooner if she talked.
“I can honestly tell you I don’t think Lamont has anything to do with the body.”
“But you do think he’s in some kind of trouble?”
“I… Lamont has been in trouble since the day he was born. He hasn’t changed.”
<
br /> “And Frankie?” His appearance was a big coincidence with the body, and Bo had never believed in chance.
“I’d have no trouble believing Frankie was directly involved. If I hear anything more from him, you’ll be the first to know.” Cheri pursed her lips.
Grappling for anything to focus on besides her sexy mouth, Bo grabbed the ledger. “So where are your receipts? Do you have a different pencil?”
“Sure. Here.” Cheri lifted a box of tickets and sat them front and center on the small desk.
“What is that?”
Crumpled slips of receipts, some recognizable, some impossible, spilled over the sides. “I know, I know, I suck at this. In my defense, when Evie hired me, it was to run the bar, not the books. I barely skimmed through math in high school. If my best friend hadn’t allowed me to cheat off her tests, I would’ve never passed eighth-grade algebra.”
Bo gingerly picked out a slip of paper, attempted to smooth it flat on the desk and in the process, tore it in half. “This isn’t going to be a one-day job. Maybe a week.” Or a month.
“I don’t have that long.”
Bo assessed the box and the ledger. “When’s the last time you organized this thing?”
“Ummm, maybe a few months ago.” Cheri eased a hip onto the desk, and Bo worked to ignore her generous curves.
Months? What kind of business didn’t do the books at least once a week?
If he were smart, he’d head home right now and pretend like he’d never seen her mess. Then he’d have to leave her.
She was upset; she might be again. He should stay, just in case she needed him. Pansy-ass. “Tell you what, you smooth out these receipts and try to order them by date. I’ll do everything else. Deal?”
“Deal. Let me go grab a stool.” Cheri rushed out of the room, and he fixated on her tight round ass and tiny waist.
He reached down and adjusted his jeans before his zipper left a permanent scar. Hadn’t she told him she could handle him? And hadn’t she last night?
Cheri was a grown woman who could make up her own mind, and she’d made it more than clear she wanted him.
Bo drew in a shuddering breath and focused on the ledger. Cheri’s feelings come first, no matter how much he wanted to throw her on the desk and prove to her exactly how much he desired her.
“Got it,” Cheri’s voice preceded her into the room. She plopped a wooden stool down right next to him and grabbed a stack of papers. “I’m a mess, huh?”
For a split-second, Bo allowed her to see every single bit of heat in his gaze, savoring the way she squirmed. “I’m good at fixing messes.”
There was a loud crash in the kitchen. Bo reacted instantly shoving Cheri behind him.
The kitchen was clearly visible through the open office door, as was Lamont and the broken glass at his feet. “I’m getting sick and tired of your relatives interrupting us.”
“You and me both.” Cheri went around him and grabbed the broom and dustpan from the corner.
“Sorry.” Lamont held up his hands. “Just checking on you. I was worried when I got home and the house was empty.”
“Well you’re a little late. Like over seven hours late.” Cheri started sweeping up the glass, brushing Lamont’s boots in the process. “Would you move over?”
Lamont reached over and shoved the dishwasher door closed. “Sure.” He stepped back, allowing Cheri to finish cleaning up his mess.
Time for a fishing expedition. “You seen Ginger? Her husband’s looking for her.”
“Why would I know where she’s at?”
“Because your bike’s been parked at her place all day.” Bo leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms casually over his chest. Lamont was covering up something, and Bo didn’t think it had anything to do with Ginger Burnell.
He offered a casual shrug. “It was earlier.”
Another lie.
“You promised me you’d break it off with her.” Cheri dumped the glass in the trash and put the broom back against the wall before turning to face her cousin.
“I went to her house to break up with her. She didn’t want to.” Lamont shrugged again. “What could I do?”
“You could think with your head instead of your dick,” Cheri said.
“Looks like that’s true for more than one person in this room.” Lamont eyed Bo with a knowing gleam in his green eyes. His slow Cajun drawl might help distract the female population of Desha County, but not him.
“Stan’s filed a missing person’s report. If she doesn’t show up soon, I’ll start looking,” Bo said.
“She’s not missing. I’m telling you I was with her all afternoon,” Lamont said.
“Better tell her to call her husband then, before I have to start another investigation.”
“Another?” Cheri asked.
“Along with the dead body we found in the bayou yesterday.”
Bo had to give Lamont credit, he didn’t betray himself with even an eye blink. But that in and of itself could be a tell. Everyone had reactions, honest or false. Having a lack of reaction meant he was hiding something. “Don’t know how that has anything to do with me or Ginger.”
“What does the name Jason Dupree mean to you?”
Cheri grabbed the nearest washcloth, knocking over a container of kitchen utensils, which clattered onto the table. She grabbed them and started shoving them back in place, keeping her body angled so Bo saw more of her back than her front.
Lamont spoke first, “Don’t mean nothing to me, Sheriff. What’s it mean to you?”
“Lamont, didn’t the doctors at the hospital tell you to rest? It’s after midnight, you should be home.”
Bo caught Cheri’s quick glance. She knew something too. Dammit. A part of him, even after last night in the hospital, had held out hope she didn’t. Until now. Although, even with the nervous way she paced around the kitchen, cleaning surfaces she’d already cleaned twice, he didn’t think she knew too much. Just enough to make her scared.
It was Lamont he was more concerned about. He didn’t appear to be in the least bit nervous. There were more layers to Cheri’s cousin than the happy go lucky playboy he portrayed.
Good thing Bo was really good at his job. “I know he’s bad news. I’ve spoken to my contacts with the FBI in Louisiana. Seems like they’ve been tracking him for a while. And the people involved with him.”
Lamont slowly tilted his head to the side, his puppy dog lopsided smile a little off. “Good thing I don’t know him then. Cheri, I’ll head back to the house. See you in the morning?”
“Sure,” she said.
Oh, but he did know him, Bo knew that without a doubt. And what Cheri’s involvement was in the situation, he wasn’t sure yet, but he would be.
And he wouldn’t let her out of his sight until he was.
15
“Have you always been like this?” Cheri quipped, curious as to why everything about him was so unbending. He might as well be one of those massive steel beams forming the foundation of skyscrapers. Check that – they probably actually bent more than Bo Lawson.
“Long as I can remember. Why?” He answered with a slight frown, as though he’d never actually considered the fact his behavior could be classified as odd.
“Well, I mean, most people who are this uptight have a legitimate reason.” Maybe his parents forgot him at the county fair or something…
“If you’re trying to figure me out, like I’ve got some kind of trauma in my past and blah blah blah, don’t bother. I’ve always liked things to be in order. Played with Legos when I was a kid, you know?”
The image of a miniature Bo with blond ringlets and blue eyes, giggling up at his parents as he made a perfect square tower out of solid blue Legos flashed in her mind. But in the same image, he smashed it down and fell on the floor with laughter.
“So, you’re telling me you’ve never done anything crazy? Like jump off the roof of your house onto a trampoline when your parents were gone to work?”
“Why the hell would I do something so stupid? Don’t tell me you’ve done it? You could’ve broken a leg or snapped your neck.” His even voice veered off center just a little.
Cheri reached out and patted his arm. “Calm down. Not me, some of my friends. I actually have enough common sense not to invite bodily injury when I don’t have to.”
Bo snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Had he cracked a joke? Now that had to be a record. God, if the man started smiling more often she wouldn’t have a wing or a prayer to keep her distance.
“So, you were one of those kids?”
Bo’s back straightened and his frown slid back in place. “What the hell does that mean?”
She gave a casual shrug and turned away, but kept him in her periphery. “You know, do everything your parents say, never break the rules, suck up to your teachers, maintain a perfect record. I can keep going if you want.”
“You think I’m that much of a stick in the mud?”
A quick glance revealed his knuckles had turned white on the steering wheel. Ha! Maybe Mr. perfect wasn’t so polished after all. At least she hoped so, because if they started delving into childhood and teenage records, he’d go screaming for the hills. “Stick in the mud might not be the words I would use.”
She practically felt the energy vibrating in his body. She’d finally gotten a reaction from the man. Satisfaction teemed through her.
She’d ride this pony all the way to the finish line, and maybe, if she could crack the hard shell and he let her inside, she might have a chance, a real chance with him.
“You didn’t seem to think so when I had my tongue in your mouth.”
Cheri choked and stared at him wide-eyed. She’d underestimated him. He’d dropped a powder keg of longing right on top of her, leaving her squirming in her seat. Focus girl, you’re trying to get a real reaction not redirect back to sex. Sex that promised to be mind-blowing Toe-curling. Last-day-on-earth fantastic.
No. No. No. She frantically searched for the least sexual topic she could come up with to talk about. “So, your parents were the same way? Strict?”
Her mom hadn’t been so strict, but her dad gave new meaning to the words spare the rod spoil the child. Something Cheri seemed to have been put on this earth to test.
Relentless River: Men of Mercy, Book 10 Page 10