by Macy Beckett
It was that douche bag cowboy, the one cheating on his wife. And judging by the slippery smirk on the asshole’s face, one mistress wasn’t enough to satisfy him. The guy crowded Devyn’s space as they spoke; then he bent to her ear before tweaking her chin and striding toward the craps table.
Beau was thankful to be stuck behind an inch of solid glass, otherwise he would’ve shown Casanova Cowboy the exit—right over the second-story deck rail.
After taking a calming breath, he held the door open for Devyn, who beamed while unloading their drinks and desserts onto the folding table.
“Did you see that guy?” she asked. “He just hit on me, wearing a wedding ring and everything.”
“And you’re smiling because . . . ?”
Dev stood an inch straighter, raising her chin with pride. “Because I handled it like a professional. Instead of threatening to shove my tray up his ass, I said not interested.”
Beau couldn’t help laughing. She looked like she’d just won a blue ribbon at the state fair. “That’s my girl.”
“I can’t wait to tell Allie,” Dev said as she pulled up a chair and sat at the table. “At least this time it’ll benefit me when she blabs to Marc.”
“Do I detect a hint of resentment?” Beau asked, unfolding another chair. He sat down across from her. Their knees bumped and he adjusted his legs to give her more room. “Not that I’m judging. You two have always been close, and now she’s got a new favorite.”
Devyn gasped in mock outrage and began cutting into her chicken. “That’s not it.” Then she paused and waved her knife in the air while she said, “Okay, maybe a little. I always thought it would be sisters before misters if one of us got married.”
Beau chuckled under his breath and scooped up a bite of mashed potatoes. “I guess Marc gives her something that you don’t.”
“Ew,” she said, lightly kicking him in the ankle. “Can we not discuss what your brother gives my sister? At least not while I’m eating.”
“Says the woman who sent that sister to cockblock me.”
“That was nothing—just a little interference,” Devyn said around a bite of green beans. “We didn’t swap stories afterward.”
Beau leaned forward enough to brush the outside of her thigh with his. He held her gaze, lowering his voice to a murmur. “So you didn’t tell her I had you on the floor with your pants around your ankles?” When Devyn’s cheeks blushed, he added, “Or that I was halfway inside you when she tried to bust down the door?”
Dev swallowed hard and shook her head.
“Good. Some things should be kept private.” He threw her a teasing wink. “Like how blazing hot you felt when I slid my—”
“This chicken’s fantastic,” she said, her voice trembling. “Don’t you think?”
He kept their gazes locked for another heartbeat before trying a bite. The breast was seared to perfection, but it needed a kick. “I’d have added a pinch of cayenne to the marinade.”
“I forgot that you used to run the galley,” she said. “Do you miss it?”
Beau didn’t have to ponder the question. “No. If you think it’s hot in here, imagine running around in that kitchen with a full staff at your elbow.”
He didn’t mind cooking—in fact, dicing veggies while nursing a cold beer took the edge off a rough day—but not feeding hundreds of guests and a crew. That was some serious pressure.
“Allie says you’re better than most gourmets.”
He lifted one shoulder and said, “I’m a man of many talents.”
Instead of commenting, Devyn shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
“I’ve never cooked for you, have I?” he asked. When she shook her head, he suggested, “How about tomorrow, when we stop in Natchez? The galley will shut down after the guests leave for their excursions, so I can probably sneak in there to make us lunch.”
She bit her bottom lip and apologized with her eyes. “It’s tempting, but if I don’t get off this boat for a few hours, I’m going to need a padded cell and a Xanax script.”
Beau understood. Two weeks on the water would seem like an eternity to a landlubber. “New plan. I’ll cook lunch for us and pack it in a basket. Then we can find a place to eat on nice, solid ground.”
She pretended to study her plate, but a gradual smile spread across her lips, and when she flicked a glance at him, her azure eyes were brighter than the Mississippi moon. Beau’s heart sprouted wings. He wished he could bottle the way he felt when she looked at him like that—his insides all light and floaty with pleasure. He’d never need another beer as long as he lived.
“That sounds perfect,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Still hate mushrooms?”
“Are they still a fungus?”
Yes, then. “That’s a shame. I make a mean portobello sandwich.”
She pointed her fork at him. “People who enjoy the taste of fungus can’t be trusted.” After another bite, she used a napkin to dab at her mouth and studied him for a long moment. When the watchful silence continued, Beau figured a change in subject was coming. Turned out he was right.
“I never asked what you’ve been up to these last ten years,” she said. “I’ve seen the scars. Want to tell me about it?”
Beau tipped back his iced tea, taking a few more chugs than necessary as he processed the unwelcome shift in topic. He wasn’t angry with Devyn for asking—if anything, her curiosity gave him hope—but that was a decade in his life he didn’t like to revisit. He couldn’t very well tell her the truth in all its miserable glory. Like the time he lost half his unit when they walked into an ambush and couldn’t make contact for reinforcements. Or the day he’d refused to reenlist and the recruiter had accused him of selling out his brothers to make a few bucks doing contract work. Beau could still taste the metallic tang of rage on his tongue.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“There’s not much to tell.” Absently, he picked apart his dinner roll and pressed the bits into his mashed potatoes. When he realized what he was doing, he brushed off his hands and gave Devyn his full attention. “I enlisted for the wrong reasons. It was a knee-jerk reaction because I was hotheaded and afraid. The discipline helped me grow up, I can’t deny that, but eventually I figured out that I couldn’t make a career out of running.”
He liked to think those years weren’t wasted, that he’d needed time and distance to appreciate his hot mess of a family. If he’d stayed in town after graduation, he and Marc might have clawed at each other’s throats until there was no relationship left to salvage.
“Anyway,” he said, “I’m glad to be home. This is where I belong.”
“What about working on the Belle?” Devyn asked. “Does it bother you that Marc’s captain while you’re managing the casino?”
“Not one bit.”
“But he didn’t have to invest any money. Your daddy just gave him the boat.”
“For good reason,” Beau said. “If it hadn’t been for Marc, the Belle wouldn’t be operating. Alex and Nicky helped out, but they’re too young for the responsibility. Marc was the best choice. He was here; I wasn’t.”
“So you really enjoy this?” She hitched a thumb toward the one-way glass. “You don’t want to be captain?”
“Nah, that was Marc’s dream, not mine.” Beau was simply happy to be home. It didn’t matter whether he was working in the casino or the galley or the pilothouse—the Belle kept his family together in one place, and that was all that mattered. “I’m a jack-of-all-trades. I’ll go wherever I’m needed.”
“Wow.” With one cheek stuffed full, Devyn shook her head as if amazed. “You really have grown up.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a chuckle. “What about you? Allie told me you’ve had some interesting jobs over the years. Were you really a virtual dominatrix?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what that entailed. What did she do, text guys a picture of her boot and then tell them to lick the screen? Orde
r them to smack their own asses?
She held up an index finger. “We’re not talking about that one.”
“How can we not?”
“Easy,” she said. “You’re going to tell me about your job instead.” In one long guzzle, she finished her wine, then stood from the table and approached the one-way glass. “What are you looking for when you spy on all these unsuspecting slot pullers?”
He joined her at the window, taking a seat on the tall swiveling office chair. “It’s not the slots I’m worried about. Those pretty much take care of themselves,” he said as he pointed at the live feed displayed on the flat-screen. “In the slot rows, I only check for theft. You know, folks stealing each other’s coin buckets. And I look for unseemly activity.”
A few years ago, Marc had busted a couple of honeymooners near the far wall slots with their hands in each other’s pants. Not the kind of family-friendly entertainment the staff had in mind.
“Unseemly?” Dev asked, tossing her curls over one shoulder and grinning at him. “Are you talking about exhibitionists? Right here on the sweet little Belle?”
“It happens.”
“People are crazy. I’ll never understand what’s so exciting about public sex.”
Beau grunted in agreement. “Hiding in the aisles, barely moving, not making a sound. That’s no way to fuck.” When she elbowed him in the ribs, he corrected, “I mean, make love.”
She stood on tiptoe and peered at the gamblers as if picturing a secret tryst. “I don’t see anywhere remotely private enough to pull it off.”
Beau left his chair and settled behind her, near enough to catch the floral scent of her shampoo. He rested one hand on her waist and used the other to point out the window. “Right back there,” he said into her ear, “near the corner. Someone standing behind that machine is out of sight.”
Devyn relaxed into him, bringing the firm cushion of her ass against his fly, and Beau nearly swallowed his tongue. “Except for the ceiling cameras,” she pointed out.
All the blood in his body funneled toward his crotch. Devyn’s nearness—the warm press of her body and her intoxicating scent—scrambled his thoughts until his words stumbled out in a disjointed murmur against her earlobe. “People . . . tend to forget”—he cleared his throat—“the cameras.”
She must have sensed the shift in him, because she stilled for a moment before releasing a shaky breath. “Do they?”
“Oh, yeah,” he moaned. He wanted to bury his nose in her curls, so he did. She surprised him by tilting her head aside to bare her neck. Taking full advantage, he nuzzled the patch of skin below her ear and took her waist between both hands. She smelled of sweetness and sex, which wasn’t helping the problem growing inside his pants. “It’s easy to get caught up in the moment.”
She arched her lower back just enough to brush his erection with her bottom. “Distracted by the rush.”
“Uh-huh,” he said while squinting his eyes shut. As if that would stop the desire from engorging him. He shouldn’t have lit this match. The last thing he needed was another night spent with a cramp in his gut. “Listen,” he said, groaning when she ground against him again. “I said we could go as slow as you wanted. . . .”
She took his hands and guided them to her breasts.
God bless, she wasn’t making this easy. He couldn’t stop his palms from molding to her softness. The heavy weight of her breasts was so deliciously familiar, filling his hands to perfection. He skimmed both thumbs over her nipples, pleased to find them already erect. She wanted him, and he loved that.
“And I meant it,” he said. “We don’t have to rush.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, bowing back for a heavier touch. “Slow is good.”
Then she blew everything to hell by reaching behind her to stroke his erection. She cupped him hard and slid her palm gradually down to his base before sliding it back to the tip, where she circled the underside of his sensitive head with one fingernail. “I like it slow.”
He groaned and thrust into her grasp, hoping like crazy she wasn’t toying with him. He was hard enough to pound nails. “Baby, you’re killing me.”
Still stroking him, she used her free hand to cover his, encouraging him to massage her nipples. When he rolled them between his fingers, she whimpered, tipped back her head to rest on his chest, and said, “What a wonderful way to die.”
The last thing Beau wanted to do was stop, but that was exactly what had to happen unless she intended to take him all the way.
“Where’s this going, Dev?”
She peered over her shoulder with a hunger in her gaze that matched his own. Her cheeks had grown flushed; her lips parted as she locked eyes with him and asked, “Are there cameras in this room?”
Beau shook his head. “Not a single one.”
She blinked up at him, so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. In that moment, he would have shaved twenty years off his life to have Devyn for one night—to peel off her clothes and consume every inch of her. To make up for the ten years he’d wasted living outside of her bed. Beau held his breath and waited for an answer.
“Good,” she said. “Then hurry up and kiss me.”
Chapter 10
Devyn didn’t need to tell him twice.
Before she had a chance to blink, Beau took her cheek in one hand. She turned her face and arched her neck, rising to meet him while he lowered his mouth to hers. At the contact, she released a whimper that revealed how desperately she wanted him, but she didn’t care. She was beyond pride. Her body had taken the wheel, and it was veering full throttle toward the massive, hard man behind her.
One touch had her skin burning with fever, and when the tip of his tongue flicked against her upper lip, chills rushed over Devyn’s body. All her cares fell away until there was only Beau—his mouth firm and commanding as he explored her with a seeking tongue. A wave of desire settled between her thighs until she was so hot she could have combusted.
No one kissed like Beau Dumont. No one on earth.
When she broke free for air, he lifted her curls and slid his open mouth down the side of her throat, nibbling a trail to the weak spot at the top of her shoulder. There, he sucked her mercilessly while drawing her close with one powerful arm. Devyn pressed a hand against the window and bit her lip to contain a moan. She wanted to face him, to nestle their bodies together as tightly as she could, but then she glanced through the glass and locked eyes with a stranger on the other side.
A smoldering thrill shot up the length of Devyn’s thighs.
In the instant before she remembered the stranger couldn’t see them, she feared the man had caught her in the act. She envisioned what he would have seen—Beau kneading one of her breasts and biting her neck while she reached behind to palm his erection. For the briefest of moments, she had thought someone was watching her.
And surprisingly, she’d liked it.
The hint of danger heightened her sensations, each touch twice as erotic as before, and she finally understood the appeal of public sex. It was dangerous and forbidden. Which was hot as hell.
Still gazing out the window, she guided Beau’s hand over her hips and whispered, “Touch me.”
He made a noise of raw male hunger and tugged the hem of her skirt to her waist, then used a thumbnail to trace swirls around the source of her need, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “Both hands on the glass,” he ordered. “I’m not getting off in my pants this time, Kitten.”
She did as she was told.
“I’m going to finish inside you,” he promised. “But first,” he said as his thumb pressed her swollen bud and made her gasp, “you’ll come for me.” He held the pressure and moved in a circle, rubbing tension into her core. “Again and again, until you can’t stand up. By the time I’m ready to make love to you, there won’t be a bone left in your body . . . except mine.”
Devyn moaned and widened her stance. She was halfway there.
He tucked his hand inside her
panties and took her breath away with the delicate play of his fingers. They taunted and probed, sliding between her wet folds with a lethal precision that had her panting Beau’s name. He knew what he was doing, knew her body like a favorite song, and he strummed her chords until every muscle in her legs tensed in anticipation of release. Her hands squeaked against the window, a chorus of desperate noises rising from her throat. When she shifted her gaze to meet the eyes of a woman checking her reflection in the mirror, a flare of heat blossomed within her and Devyn went flying over the edge.
She came down slowly to find that Beau had followed the direction of her gaze into the casino. There was a devilish smile in his voice when he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “It feels like they’re watching us, doesn’t it?”
Devyn nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Did you like that?”
She swallowed and nodded again.
“Then let’s try something.” After removing her panties, he sat her on the edge of a tall rolling chair and swiveled it to face the window. Then he sank to his knees in front of the chair and propped her left heel on his shoulder. “I want you to pretend we’re back there in the slots, hiding in the corner while I remind you what my tongue is for.”
She wanted to tell him to wait a few minutes, that she was too sensitive after her climax, but then he licked her soft and slow, and she was powerless to do anything but lie back and surrender to his mouth.
Pure pleasure washed over her as he sucked and nibbled, pausing only long enough to utter a curse and tell her how good she tasted. He dragged the tip of his tongue back and forth over her throbbing flesh while she held tightly to the chair and moaned with inexplicable bliss. When she spread wider for him, he used two fingers to dip inside and stretch her by gradual degrees until he pushed all the way in and pulled back out again. Devyn remembered his instructions, but she couldn’t pretend she was anywhere but right here, riding his long fingers while he sucked her to orgasm.
