Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(126)

He dipped closer.

“Baby, listen to me,” he coaxed gently. “They’re my kids. They’re good kids. They love their dad. They’re social, good with people. I told you, Zadie will come around. But she won’t if you get wound up.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Kids are like horses, they can read you’re spooked, which will spook them and make ’em act up. You gotta be the adult in this situation, which means you gotta f*ckin’ relax, be patient, and give her the real you, which she’s got no choice but to wake up and love due to the fact that there’s a f*ckuva lot to love.”

The clothes she was holding hit the floor as she leaned into him and slid her arms around his waist.

Once she had hold on him, she shared, “You’re good at the flowery biker shit.”

“Learned early,” he replied. “Had a good girl named Millie to win and it was worth pullin’ out stupid shit like that in order to do it.”

A shadow of regret ran through her eyes at the reminder of what they’d had and lost but she powered through it and returned, “It’s not stupid shit.”

“Won me you so I guess you’re right.”

She pressed in until she had her cheek to his chest. As she did this, she held on tighter.

High wrapped his arms around her and returned the tight.

“I’ll wear the first outfit. I think it was the best,” she decided.

“Great,” he muttered. “And so you know, we got plans for dinner at The Broker on Monday night.” She tipped her head back and caught his eyes. “Sweater dress,” he finished.

She melted deeper into him and grinned.

They heard an angry kitty mew and a soft thump but neither of them let the other go as they twisted in order to see Poem had fallen off the bed and she was kitty run-waddling out of the room.

Their eyes went back to the bed and Millie let out a quiet gasp of alarm when Chief took a flying leap off the side. He didn’t land real good but he recovered fast and ran-waddled after his sister.

“I think until they can get up and down themselves without breaking their necks, the bed should be off-limits,” Millie declared.

High looked down at her. “They’re tougher than you think, beautiful.”

“I think until they can get up and down themselves without breaking their necks, the bed should be off-limits,” she repeated. He grinned. She kept going. “Unless there’s human supervision.”

He kept grinning as he asked, “We done with the fashion show?”

She nodded, then started looking around. “I should pick up.”

He started walking backward, taking her with him. “You can do that later.”

She tipped her head back to look at him. “Low, it won’t take a minute.”

He hit bed, went down, she landed on top of him, and he immediately rolled so he had the advantage.

He lifted his head to look down at her but he didn’t lift it far, just enough so her brown eyes, her beautiful face, her cute mole were all he could see.

He focused on the mole.

“Think I mentioned I appreciate that you give great head, baby. I also ate you hard and later we f*cked fast.” He looked to her eyes. “Now we’re gonna take all that slow.”

She dipped a hand in his shirt so he felt it against the skin of his back.

She was in with his plan.

“I should check the kitties,” she said.

Maybe she wasn’t in with his plan.

“They weigh less than two pounds each. They couldn’t hurt each other or anything else even if they put effort into that shit.”

“But—”

“After I eat you.”

She melted.

But she started, “Snooks—”

“And you suck me.”

She licked her lips but said nothing.

“And we f*ck. Then you can check on ’em.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Before she could say anything else, he kissed her.

They carried out his plans and took their time doing it.

In the end, she was so out of it after two orgasms, lazy and half asleep, it was him who checked on the cats.

They’d managed to get up on her couch and were asleep on opposite ends of it, one snuggled into an afghan, the other half buried under a toss pillow.

They were good.

So High went back to his girl in order to join her in bed, fall asleep, and dream of Millie’s blow jobs.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

No Matter How That Happens


Millie

I SUCKED IN a deep breath and pinned a smile on my face, moving toward the back door since I heard Logan’s truck pull into the courtyard.

It was Friday night. He was there with his girls to pick me up for dinner.

I was a nervous wreck.

I just hoped I was hiding it.

I was in a nice pair of jeans, a frilly (but not over the top) blouse, and fabulous high-heeled booties. I’d secured my hair in a ponytail at the nape of my neck, had on subtle makeup, subdued perfume, and a touch under my usual amount of jewelry.

In other words, I felt I was ready to face my first meeting with the daughters Logan adored, representing myself as his choice in a positive light.

Or at least I hoped that too.