He pressed his own erection against Bo’s hip. A hand job wouldn’t do tonight. Bo pressed back. Hallelujah!
Lucky thrust forward, fighting for friction against Bo’s thigh.
Bo spread his legs wide and Lucky shifted to settle between, keeping his tongue in his lover’s mouth. Tonight’s homecoming involved more than a house.
He drank in the sight of Bo lying beneath him, a promise whispering in the back of his brain of many more nights in this house. Their house. Their life.
Bo’s hummingbird spirit totem glittered in the low light. He didn’t need charms to keep him safe—that’d be Lucky’s job.
Lucky bucked his hips, rubbing his cock beneath Bo’s balls, back to where he’d dreamed of being for weeks. God, how he wanted to slide inside, no barriers between them, and make up for lost time, but he’d worked too hard to win Bo’s trust.
Did he treat Bo like he might break? No, he took tender loving care of the most important person in his life.
“The mattress isn’t hurting your back, is it?” Lucky drew back enough to ask.
Bo pulled Lucky down with both hands. “What mattress?”
Lucky plunged his tongue into Bo’s mouth. Maybe if he kissed the man long enough, hard enough, he’d chase away the terrors of the past few months, sending his nightmares with them, along with Bo’s depression and self-doubts, and the need for the latex Lucky rolled onto himself.
Fingers damp with lube, he caressed Bo’s opening, not yet daring to enter. He kissed “I love yous” over Bo’s jaw, across his nose, and over the light freckles the semi-darkness hid from sight. Lucky didn’t need to see them; he knew each and every one.
He swiped his lips over Bo’s closed eyelids, earning a gasp for his efforts.
Deep in Bo’s chest a groan rumbled, and he pushed up, sliding his cock over Lucky’s thigh and leaving a damp trail.
Cologne and man filled Lucky’s nose, as comforting as the scent of home. No, it
was
the scent of home, home being wherever Bo was.
Lucky pushed two fingers past the tight ring of Bo’s opening, adding his own moan to his lover’s. Bliss and heaven waited for him. Waited for them both. Pushing in and out, he worked Bo loose, taking in every every brow-wrinkled moment of concentration, every lip-nibble, every sharply indrawn breath, until finally, a lazy smile turned up Bo’s lips. Lucky took his time, though his body screamed, “Hurry!” They had all night. Or until they both passed out from exhaustion.
Slowly, slowly, he braced his weight on his elbows and sank into Bo’s depths.
Bo moaned.
Oh dear lord! Tight heat gripped him, pulling him in, pleasure to the point of pain. Forward and back, a little farther each time. At last his groin rested against the perfect swells of Bo’s ass. Kill him now and he’d die a happy man.
No signs of Cyrus peered from Bo’s eyes, just Bo. Sweet, wonderful Bo, gasping, moaning, clutching at Lucky’s shoulders, throwing back his head.
Lucky shifted his weight to one arm and reached between them. Bo’s hardness matched Lucky’s own. Hallelujah! He timed the rhythm of his hand to the cadence of his hips. In/out, up/down, breath mingling with Bo’s.
Not a good position to touch, feel, explore. It took all his will power to withdraw. Bo’s ring clung to him, gave him a million reasons to stay.
He silenced Bo’s whimper of protest with a kiss, then rolled him onto his side. Lucky spooned him from behind and pushed in, one arm wrapped around Bo for leverage. From this angle Bo’s shoulder made a perfect target for his tongue. He licked, salty skin hitting his tongue while he worked himself in and out, and lightly bit.
Bo moans and groans and “Oh, God, yes!” urged him on. Holding tightly, he kissed every bit of skin within range.
Each thrust drew sweet sounds from Bo. Lucky took Bo in hand, stroking him both inside and out. God, he’d never get enough. Ever. Faster and faster he bucked his hips. Electricity zinged through him, each current heading straight for his groin.
Bo shoved back against him, grabbing Lucky’s hand and working it faster.
Lucky took the hint and increased the pace. The muscles pressed against his chest tightened. “Ah, ah, ah!” Bo doubled over, his cock throbbing in Lucky’s hand.
Tension built deep within, but Lucky fought.
Not yet, not yet.
“I’m gonna come,” he cried.
Lightning sizzled through him, raising goose bumps on his arms. His tempo faltered. He shoved into Bo one final time and let go.
***
Lucky woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows and a text from Walter: “I need you and Bo in my office at 2 p.m.” Ah, hell. What now?
Chapter Eighteen
Lucky squeezed his phone tight, studying the screen. Bo lay debauched on his bed, hair every which way. Though the picture showed only of his face, the image screamed, “Freshly fucked!”
He smelled coffee before whoever clip-clopped up the hall came into view of his position on the floor outside the SNB’s main conference room. Would it be too much to ask to be alone right now? Once more he ran his fingers over Bo’s image, locked the phone, and slipped it into his pocket.
A Starbucks cup came into view. “Whatever’s going on in there, it’s gonna be all right.”
Lucky raised his head. Johnson. The band around his heart loosened. Yeah, she’d won the right to see his pain. “What are you doing here?”
She dropped down onto the floor next to him, sipping from a coffee cup while handing him another. “Got wind something was happening, thought I’d come on down and keep you company.”
“They’re in there.” He tossed his head toward the closed conference room door. “Teleconference.”
“With who?”
“Bo, Walter, a bureau attorney. I have no idea who’s calling in.” He didn’t shrug off the hand she placed on his shoulder.
“It’s gonna be all right. Trust me.”
“You can’t be right all the time.”
“Can’t I? Have I steered you wrong yet?” Her playful smile brought out a thin ray of hope.
“Only I can be right all the time.” His forced half smile couldn’t hold up to reality. “I pray I’m wrong this time.”
Johnson gave his shoulder a squeeze. “How long have they been in there?”
“Two and a half hours. And I can’t hear a thing.” He and Bo were a team. He deserved to be in that room.
“Wanna take a walk?”
“Can’t. I gotta stay here in case they call me. But I’m not sure what to say if they ask me to testify against Bo.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” She shut up and leaned back against the wall, so close her shoulder brushed Lucky’s. Damned if he’d push her away.
No words broke the quiet, just the occasional slurp, a soft “a-hem” of one or the other of them clearing their throats.
A friend. Johnson was a friend. She didn’t ask anything in return, but here she was on a Saturday, the day after Christmas, with any number of other things she could do, and yet she spent her afternoon with Lucky. Saying nothing. Drinking coffee. Waiting.
“Thanks for what you did to the house. You shouldn’t have been away from your family on Christmas.”
“I wasn’t. I’ve been sneaking out there whenever you weren’t around. Call it my Christmas and housewarming present all in one. Besides, I had help.”
“Phillip?”
“No, Delores. Your landlady is quite handy with a paintbrush, didn’t get a drop on her bathrobe.”
Lucky would’ve paid to see that. “She didn’t have a cat draped over her shoulder, did she?”
“No, but she brought Tigger to keep us company.”
Now Lucky owed both women more than he’d ever be able to repay.
Minutes ticked by. Johnson hoofed it down the hall to the bathroom and back. The shadows on the wall lengthened. Surely they wouldn’t try to pin Stephan’s death on Bo. He had nothing to do with that. Didn’t have that kind of reach.
“I appreciate your being here, but you really don’t have to stay,” Lucky said. “You should be home with your family.”
“Gran’s unpacking and shooed me away, Tyrone’s playing with a new little friend down the hall, and Phillip’s with his family. I’ve got nothing better to do than stay here and harass you.” She gave Lucky a tired smile. “Lucky you.”
Lucky’s bladder might explode at any second, but it’d take more than needing to piss to make him leave. They might call him. Bo might need him. He’d be here. When Bo stepped out that door, he’d want a friendly face.
After an eternity of waiting, the door creaked open. “Lucky, you can come in now.” Walter’s blank face gave nothing away.
Lucky perused the room before entering, his gaze falling on Bo.
Bo lay slumped back in a chair, hair tousled. Chances were he’d been running his fingers through the mass all afternoon. Ignoring Walter and the attorney, Lucky headed straight for his partner.
“Bo? You okay?”
Bo glanced up with bleary eyes and launched himself into Lucky’s arms. “Oh, God! I’m so glad that’s over.” The man shook so hard, amazing he didn’t fly apart.
Lucky made eye contact with Walter.
“All is fine. Let me escort our guest out and I’ll be right back.” He heaved himself out of his chair and followed Attorney Gray Hair into the hall.
The door closed on, “Oh, hello, Loretta.”
Lucky peeled Bo off him. “Tell me.”
“They went to bat for me, Lucky. They got me cleared.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say. But you’ve figured out we weren’t the only agents on site in Mexico, right?”
“Right. Cruz…”
The blood drained from Bo’s face. “Not Cruz. This was someone… higher up. He told them, Lucky. Told them everything. How I tried to save the men. How I stole naloxone for them. How Stephan ordered his guards to kill me if I ever refused a shot.”
“He what?” Was there any way to bring Stephan back to life and rip the bastard apart bare-handed?
Bo nodded. “Yeah. If I’d stepped out of line, I was to be killed. The only thing saving me was you. If not for you, I’d be dead.”
Only then did Lucky see the tear tracks on Bo’s cheeks. Whatever happened in this room hadn’t been easy. “Do you know who went to bat for us?”
“Yes. But I can’t tell. Trust me, it’s better this way.”
Who shook Bo up this badly?
The door snicked open and Walter reappeared. “I’m sorry, Lucky, most of the conversation that took place in this room is classified, but Bo has been exonerated. Both of you are to be commended on your, let’s see, how did he put it? Ah, ‘stellar performances in the face of adversity’.” Walter whooshed out a breath and sank into a chair. “You have friends in high places. Use them wisely.”
“What about the guy I shot? Think I shot. Whatever.”
“A man wanted for murder, extortion, and trafficking. You returned his fire.”
Relief would come later. First to see about Bo. “So that’s it? We can go?”
“Yes, you can both go.”
“What about our jobs?” Bo stopped shaking long enough to ask.
“What about them? I expect you at your desks on Monday morning unless you’ve put in for vacation days. The work is piling up. I need my best agents here with me.” Walter winked. “Well done, you two. I’m proud of you. You’ve made tough choices, but you did what you set out to do: put Stephan Mangiardi out of business.”
“Did they find out who killed him?” The important part was the bastard being dead.
“No. They’ve interrogated a suspect with ties to Alejandro Garcia, one of the men Stephan is suspected of killing, but nothing’s been proven. Someone wanted him dead. For revenge or to keep him quiet, we may never know. Now, go home.”
Arm around Bo, Lucky gave the conference room his back. Johnson was nowhere to be seen.
She’d been there when it counted.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucky’s old Camaro purred liked a kitten pulling out of the subdivision. His leather jacket made a farting noise against the seat, and the new car smell competed with his morning cup of joe. Bo sat in the passenger seat.
Domestic bliss wasn’t half bad.
He’d never admit to timing their arrival, but dang, heads turned when Lucky pulled up in his “old beater.”
Johnson whistled. “Dayum, boy. Looking good.” She touched her hand to the hood, then blew on her fingers. “Hot!”
Asshole Keith was so busy rubbernecking Lucky’s improved ride that he almost walked straight into Johnson. “Better watch where you’re going there, fella,” she growled.
Johnson didn’t like him either. Another reason to keep the woman close.
Lucky’d love to stick around and see what fuckwad Landry thought, but the man had a bad habit of taking the nine a.m. start time as merely a suggestion.
Keith did a double take when Bo got out of the other side of the car. Yes, their hiding days were over. After the drama of the past few months, a few homophobic assholes were nothing. Besides, Walter and Johnson had his back.
Johnson drawled loud enough to be heard in the next county, “You boys get moved in okay?” Hell, she should know. She’d spent her Sunday helping. With the one question she cast her lot with Bo and Lucky. Keith wouldn’t find an ally there.
The moment they stepped off the elevator the receptionist smiled. And she didn’t back away. “Hey, guys. How’s Moose?”
“Guys.” Not “Bo.” Another coworker Lucky might run back in to save from a fire. Keith sneered and stomped down the hall.
Bo stopped to chat. “He’s fine. Got a new rawhide chewy for Christmas.”
“Simon?” she asked.
What? Always before he’d been “Mr. Harrison.”
“Mr. Smith asked to see you when you got in.”
Bo shot Lucky worried eyes.
“It’s nearly January. He probably wants to talk about my review.” He left Bo regaling the receptionist—Lisa, her name was Lisa—and Johnson with tales of Moose’s latest exploits, namely, how he’d terrorized a squirrel in their new backyard.
Lucky rapped his knuckles against Walter’s door and stepped inside. While he prided himself on being an uncouth redneck, annual review was not the time to remind the boss of his asshole status.
“You wanted to see me?” Lucky settled into the chair he’d occupied on a regular basis in Walter’s office. Sometimes he’d heard good news in this chair, sometimes bad. Which would it be today?
Walter lifted a few sheets of paper from the pile of “destroy the rainforest” proportions strewn across his desk.