Walk Through Fire (Page 104)

She’d loved Black.

She’d also loved Keely.

And she wore designer threads and lived in a fancy-ass pad.

But Millie Cross was born an old lady.

Fuck, she was born to be his old lady.

So she got it.

High loosened his hold on her and started to stroke her back.

“Keely’s gonna be glad to have you back,” he told her quietly.

“She still hang with the Club?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, baby. She gets her cut of Club income every month like Black was still alive. Boz’s ex, Bev, who he married then divorced after you were gone, was tight with Keely. Bev sticks close. Brothers take turns doin’ shit for the boys when they need a man. We stay as close as she lets us. But Black ended and when he did, Keely ended too.”

“I know that feeling.”

He knew she did.

“Makes the fact we got a second chance one we gotta be sure we don’t fuck up,” he returned.

She relaxed into him more. “Yeah.”

“You had enough?” he asked, and she tensed again.

“There’s more?” she asked.

He stopped stroking, slid his fingers out of her hair, and wrapped her up in both his arms.

“No, beautiful,” he answered.

“Thank God,” she mumbled.

He grinned because that was cute.

But mostly he did it because she took it. She didn’t freak out, burst into tears, break down, have a drama.

It was ugly.

She took it all.

She stuck close.

That was done.

The tough part over.

Now their only obstacle was Zadie, and his baby girl would come around.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out.

Millie focused on him and returned her hand to his neck, curling it around.

“That was hard on you,” she noted.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“I’m out of practice being an old lady,” she told him, and he felt his lips curl up again.

“You’ll get it back.”

“What I mean is…” She looked to the TV and back to him. “I did hook up with an outlaw. I fell in love immediately with a man who did the same with me, didn’t hide it, let it shine, showed he was proud of it, and I had that. It was mine. He gave it to me. And I knew it was precious. So I didn’t care. I didn’t care what made you. I didn’t care what you did when you were away from me. I only cared what you did when I had you and the feeling you left when you weren’t with me. And I did it knowingly. Part of that was knowing it might be wrong. But I loved you so much, all of me didn’t care if it was.”

Oh yeah.

Fuck yeah.

Millie Cross was made to be his old lady.

His voice was gruff when he asked, “That change at all?”

She shot his question of earlier back at him.

“What do you think?”

She was on him, touching him, looking right into his eyes.

It hadn’t changed at all.

He turned, rolling her to her back, declaring, “Gonna fuck you now.”

She slid her hand back down to his chest and pushed. “Then let’s go to bed.”

“Gonna fuck you here.”

Her brows shot up. “And maybe leave a wet spot on the couch?” she asked in horrified disbelief.

He put his mouth to hers. “Baby, it happens, it’ll clean.”

“Eww,” she replied.

Fuck, back in the day, his girl swallowed.

He was looking forward to finding out if she was still down with that.

But if she takes him down her throat, she could not have an issue with cleaning him off the couch.

He wasn’t going to get into that. He was done talking about that shit. It’d take about ten seconds to make her forget about it.

So he went about doing that and took her mouth.

Though, he found out he was wrong.

It only took five seconds.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Back at Ya

Millie

MY ALARM WENT off and I started to untangle myself from Logan to hit snooze.

I didn’t move fast enough.

Logan leaned into me and yanked the alarm out of the wall, causing the noise of the lamp shaking and the nightstand jolting to be heard. Then I felt my body and the bed shift alarmingly as he forcefully hurled it across the room.

I heard it smash against the wall in a way I knew it was broken and suddenly I was wide awake.

“Logan!” I snapped.

He rolled on top of me, muttering, “Don’t live an alarm clock life.”

I kept snapping. “Well, I do!”

He kissed me.

And then I didn’t.

*  *  *

I walked into the kitchen with the empty mug that had been filled with coffee that Logan had brought to me while I was getting ready. I was in a wool herringbone skirt, a winter white, soft wool boatneck sweater, and black spike-heeled boots.

The minute I walked in, Logan, ass to the counter, mug to his lips, dropped his eyes to my skirt.

Then the boots.

I watched his lips curl up even as he continued to take a sip.

He approved.

That felt nice.

Regardless.

“We need a chat about the alarm clock,” I announced. “Primarily you replacing the one you busted.”

He sipped and his gaze went from my boots to my eyes.

“Don’t make any appointments before ten, you got a human one.”

I went to the coffeepot and started pouring more as I explained, “Sometimes I can’t make that decision. I have to meet my clients when they can meet as well as when I can.”

“Now you can’t. Until after ten.”

I shoved the pot back into the coffeemaker and looked to him.