The men yanked off their helmets in perfect synchronization and Travis recognized the Ministry president, Blade, and also Steel and Gator, who used to be part of the Deacons. Men he once considered his brothers. The word traitors came into his head and a bitter taste filled his mouth. It was one thing to walk away from the brotherhood, but quite another to cross over to the dark side.
As they started toward the café, Travis suddenly realized there were five of them and only one of him. Even if numbers weren’t his thing, he’d have known they weren’t good odds. Much better to stay under the radar, and the only way to do that was…
He shifted his seat and leaned across to Billie, capturing her head in his hands and dragging her lips against his. Although hyperalert due to the situation, he couldn’t help but lose himself in her mouth. She tasted of everything sweet, and he had a sugar craving like he’d never had before.
This time, she didn’t pull away. He felt her hands on his chest as she leaned into him, her tongue sliding along the top of his mouth, torturing him in the best way possible. And he wanted more of Billie, so much more.
“Heard you were back in town.” The rough voice sounded right beside them, stealing all the pleasure from Billie’s kiss.
Travis’s blood went cold. So much for staying under the radar. His hand still possessively behind Billie’s neck, he slowly pulled back and looked straight into Blade’s dark eyes. Steel, Gator and two guys Travis didn’t recognize stood on either side of their leader, arms folded across their chests as they glared down at him and Billie.
Blade grinned, but when he curled his lips it wasn’t pleasant. Where some people had dimples, he had scars. “I see it didn’t take long to get yourself a Bourbon Street whore.” He nodded toward Billie, his gaze lingering on her curves.
Travis stood, his fists clenching at his sides as he stared Blade down. How dare he speak about Billie like that! Or look at her like he wanted her to be the next notch on his bedpost. “Careful what the fuck you say.”
Only no one stared Blade down and walked away to tell the story—a bit like the situation with Ajax, really. Travis stepped slightly in front of Billie, not wanting her to get mixed up in any of this shit. What had he been thinking bringing her out when he knew all too well the Ministry were all over the Quarter these days?
Blade frowned and spoke to his brothers, all the while keeping his eyes on Travis. “I think my fucking hearing’s playing tricks on me. Did this motherfucker just tell me what to do?”
The four other bikers glared at Travis, with Steel and Gator not quite as red-faced as the other two, who looked like they’d be ready to slit his throat the moment Blade gave the signal.
“You wouldn’t want to cause any trouble in Café Du Monde, now, would you?” Travis gestured around them at the tables still fairly full with tourists. Although his tone was cool, every muscle in his body tightened.
Blade scowled and shook his head in disgust. “Look at what you’ve become,” he spat. “Too high and mighty to even wear your cut. Lucky thing Priest is dead. It would kill him to see what’s become of you losers.”
Travis raised one eyebrow, his jaw twitching at the way Blade dared mention Priest. “You know anything about that?”
“About what?” Blade asked, shrugging one shoulder.
One of his sidekicks smirked. “Fucking terrible accident, wasn’t it?”
Blade nodded, a shadow of a smile on his lips. “That’s what I heard.”
Despite his own feelings about Priest, Travis didn’t take kindly to any Ministry talking this way. He felt anger building inside him, his control slipping away. “It better have been,” he growled, looking from one man to the next, scrutinizing their eyes for any flickers of guilt. Not that they’d probably feel guilty even if they had done away with Priest.
All five men maintained their hard stares, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
“You’re not threatening me, are you?” Blade chuckled as if Travis were delusional, and Travis wondered if perhaps he’d gone too far when there was no one around to watch his back, but Blade knew all the right buttons to push. He’d love him to strike out, love him to lose hold on his tightly wound self-control, but then Blade would be winning a war Travis didn’t want to fight.
“ ’Course not,” he ground out, using every iota of restraint he had to stop from saying what he really felt. “Just making conversation.”
Blade snorted. “You really have changed. Come on, brothers, let’s leave Cash to his date. ’Night, sweetheart.” He looked past Travis to Billie and tipped his head. “Although if you need a real man, I’d be happy to oblige.”
Travis counted to five in his head as Blade and his fucking entourage walked off to order take-out at the counter. It would not do him or Billie any good if he let his anger get the better of him.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, finally turning around to face Billie.
“About what?” Her face was pale as she looked right into his eyes. “About those guys or about kissing me?”
He swallowed as her question reverberated around his head. Perhaps he should be sorry for kissing her, because in doing so he’d put her on the Ministry’s radar, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “About our uninvited guests.”
She licked her lips and met his gaze. “You’re not responsible for other people’s actions.”
Her soft lips and the blatant desire in her eyes turned him inside out. Right now he wanted to do a lot more than simply kiss her—the safest way to rid himself of all this pent-up anger was through sex, and she was here, looking all hot and fuckable.
But first he wanted to take her as far away from his archenemies as he could get.
“Let’s get out of here.” He bent down and grabbed Baxter’s leash—the little pup was a pathetic guard dog—and then took Billie’s hand with his free one as he stalked out of the café and onto the street. He glanced behind him, making sure the Ministry guys weren’t following, and then dug his cell out of his pocket. The last thing he wanted to do was call for backup, but he couldn’t risk Billie’s safety. She wasn’t part of this world.
“Blue?” he said, when Leon answered the phone after a few rings. The loud classic rock music of The Priory blared in the background. “I need your help.” He knew that even though they’d been apart for ten years, even though half the time now they acted more like enemies than friends, his brothers would come if he asked. He quickly filled Leon in on the situation, asking him not to tell Ajax, and then shut off the phone and shoved it in his pocket.
He and Billie started walking back up St. Ann Street, still hand in hand, neither of them saying a word. Travis told himself he was holding Billie’s hand to keep her safe, but truthfully he liked it. Within a few minutes a Harley roared up beside them. Baxter got all feisty, tugging at his leash and barking at Leon as he leaned back on the idling bike and gave Billie the once-over.
“Let me get this straight,” Leon said, clearly finding this amusing. “You were in Café Du Monde in the middle of the fucking night with a beautiful woman and the Ministry turned up?”
Travis bristled. “Don’t say another word. Just watch our backs, got it?”
He knew what Leon was thinking—what the hell was he doing out and about when he could have had Billie in his bed? It was a good fucking question. Being back in New Orleans, this whole damn mess with Priest was fucking with his head.
Leon revved the bike. “After you.”
Realizing he was still holding Billie’s hand and imagining exactly what Leon would think of that, Travis reluctantly let her go and continued on. Baxter had a death wish and kept trying to throw himself in front of the bike, so Travis scooped him up and shoved him under his arm, grateful to have the dog to focus on.
They walked quickly, neither of them saying a word as they continued down St. Ann and then turned onto Bourbon Street, Leon always only a block or so away. The crowds were finally thinning, those still on the streets staggering alon
g the sidewalk as if trying to remember where they were staying.
“We’ll be okay from here,” Travis told Leon as they arrived in front of The Priory. “Thanks.”
Leon merely nodded and then revved his bike again as he drove around the back of the building to park it. Travis lowered Baxter onto the pavement as they continued on to the gallery. The little dog stopped and lifted his leg over a pile of vomit, but Travis ignored it, wondering what the hell would happen now.
He knew what he wanted to happen. What he needed to happen. He wanted to haul Billie into his arms and use her body to help him forget his run-in with the Ministry, to forget why he was here in New Orleans and why he couldn’t just leave. Not yet. To help him expel some of the tension from his body. He wanted to rip off her jeans and lick her pussy until she begged him to take her over that damn piano. His mouth watered, his cock hardened.
He could practically taste her on his tongue, but didn’t she deserve better than him? Someone who could offer her a pretty future, not just a few fucking-amazing hours between the sheets? While Travis deliberated more than he ever had in his life about a woman, Billie got out her key and unlocked the gate into the gallery. It squeaked as she opened it. Baxter shot inside, no doubt to wash his dirty mouth in the fountain like Travis had seen him do a couple of times already.
“You coming?” she asked, her eyes wide open as she looked back at him still lingering on the sidewalk.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and swallowed. She looked so damn lovely standing there in the doorway, the few security lights of the gallery flickering behind her. There was just something special about her. She was so different from the women he usually used to scratch his itch, yet it was obvious what she was offering him and every red blood cell in his body wanted part of that.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said, unable to believe his own ears.
She frowned slightly, and then sighed. “That’s a pity, because I was hoping you might kiss me again.”
“Jesus.” He groaned, her sweetly suggestive words making his cock physically ache. “Billie, I’m not a good person to get entangled with. Wasn’t tonight evidence enough of that?” He thought of what it would do to him if the Ministry so much as came near her again. “There’s shit going down, and it’s better you stay away from me.”
Most women listened to him, but Billie didn’t heed his warning. Instead, she took a couple of steps, closing the distance between them and joining him once again on the sidewalk. She stood right in front of him, so close he could smell her intoxicating strawberry shampoo or whatever the hell it was, and looked up into his eyes. “Travis, let me be the judge of what’s good for me.”
And then, she leaned up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his mouth.
Chapter 7
Every ounce of common sense Billie possessed told her she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t help herself. Her resolve to stay away from Travis Sinclair had well and truly snapped. It was the middle of the night and she was standing outside the gallery on the sidewalk of Bourbon Street, her tongue down a near-stranger’s throat, her insides trembling with raw need and desire, and she felt better, more alive, than she’d ever felt before. She’d known him less than three days but for some insane reason, he didn’t feel like a stranger.
Maybe it was the illusion of friendship they’d formed, talking and sharing beignets until they’d been rudely interrupted; she didn’t know. But what she did know was that despite the tough-guy act he put on most of the time, despite his association with the Deacons, he wasn’t like those Ministry guys. They’d looked at him like they wanted to kill him and her like she was a piece of pie they wanted to devour in one gulp, yet despite being one against five, he hadn’t stood by while they insulted her, and she respected that. It had been one thing fighting the attraction she felt to him when he was being a jackass, but now, when he’d given her a glimpse of the person he seemed to hide from the world, she was a goner.
All thoughts of the danger he might bring with him, and the fact that he was essentially an enemy who wanted to do something that would destroy her business, evaporated. She could worry about all that tomorrow. At that moment nothing felt more important than the yearning need he’d ignited inside her.
And, if the impressive erection she felt pressing against her belly was any indication, Travis needed this as much as she did.
“Billie,” he groaned, gripping her shoulders and snatching his mouth from hers. “Are you sure about this?” He sounded tortured, as if he were in physical pain. “Because if we cross this line, I’m not fucking stopping until we’re finished.”
Thank God for that. In reply, she slid her hand down his body and cupped his balls through the hard denim of his jeans. He sucked in a breath. Oh yeah, she’d never been more certain of anything in her life.
“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, desperate to have his mouth back on hers. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and show me you’re not all talk. Or maybe you can think of more creative uses for that mouth of yours.”
If he didn’t give her the release she needed soon, she’d explode.
He hesitated for all of two seconds and then said, “Let’s hope you don’t regret it.” His mouth found hers again and he kissed her hard, his hands coming down around her back and cupping her buttocks in their effort to drag her closer. As their tongues dueled, he pressed the hardness between his legs right into her and heat coiled low in her belly. She pushed herself even closer, loving the friction of her nipples rubbing against his solid chest, her panties already sopping wet.
He moved his hands from her butt and slid them up under her sweater, his hot fingers searing her bare skin as he ripped his mouth from hers and started trailing kisses down her neck. They weren’t like any kisses she’d had before—they were rough and demanding, as if he didn’t want to do this but couldn’t help himself. She guessed tomorrow morning she’d wake with his mark all over her skin, and the thought intoxicated her.
Then he closed his mouth over a nipple, soaking her sweater, and she lost her ability to think straight at all. She moaned and arched up into his mouth, all the nerve endings in her body feeling as if they’d been set alight. He sucked hard, his hands sliding up and down her bare back.
“I think it’s time to take this inside,” he muttered into her ear, and she was helpless to utter a response. Hell, she’d forgotten they were still outside on the sidewalk, making out for the viewing pleasure of all of Bourbon Street.
“Good idea,” she whispered as he grabbed her hand and started into the alley. He kicked the gate shut behind them, took two seconds to lock it—thank God someone still had the ability to think straight—and then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
She squealed in surprise, her breasts pressed against his back, her hands landing on his tight butt to steady herself. Damn, he felt good.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I met you,” he said as he strode toward the house. His confession turned her on almost as much as his mouth did. What other fantasies was he about to enact?
They charged into the house, Baxter trotting at Travis’s heels, and as they headed down the corridor for the bedrooms, she realized…this was it.
“We’re going to have sex,” she squeaked, not meaning to voice this thought aloud.
Travis chuckled and his grip on her legs tightened. “That’s the plan, baby.”
She was about to have sex for the first time since she’d walked out on her marriage. With a man who had no qualms about ruining her business and had a number of sketchy connections. Was she insane? Had Travis slipped something into her hot chocolate? How could she go from hating the man to practically throwing herself at him within a matter of hours? Her heart began to pound against Travis’s back, her mind warring with her raging hormones. Good conscience fighting bad.
“Your room or mine?” he asked, oblivious to the storm ra
ging within her.
“Mine.” At least then she’d be a fraction in her comfort zone.
He arrived at her bedroom door and paused. “Time for you to go to bed elsewhere, Baxter,” Travis said, and Billie looked down at the little dog who had no clue what was going on. Join the club, she thought. I’ve lost the plot.
Travis stepped into her room and shut the door in Baxter’s face. He started whimpering immediately, but Billie had only a few seconds to feel sorry for her puppy before Travis dumped her on the bed and she forgot about the dog altogether.
He ripped off his long-sleeved T-shirt in one deft movement, unveiling all the glory of his six-pack abs, nicely tanned and covered in even more tattoos. The lights were still on from when he’d stormed into her room earlier, but she barely had time to admire the art before he undid his belt buckle and tugged his jeans and underwear—gulp—down his legs. The erection she’d felt when they were outside on the street sprang free and it was more glorious than she could imagine. It was so big she wasn’t sure how it would ever fit inside her, but she very much wanted to try. Her thighs clenched in anticipation. To hell with doubts, to hell with nerves, to hell with the regrets she might very well have tomorrow.
So what if she hadn’t had sex in over a year? Wasn’t it like riding a bicycle—once you knew how, you didn’t forget? Saxon might not have lit her on fire for quite some time, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was doing.
She sat up and pulled herself to the edge of the bed, unashamedly looking her fill of the man in front of her and reaching out to touch him. He sucked in a breath as her fingers closed around his cock, and she glided her hand up and down before taking his balls in her palm. She was about to lean forward and take him into her mouth, when he gripped her shoulders and shoved her back against the bed.
Fire Me Up Page 9
