Page 52 of Man of Honor
“We’ll be late,” he teased, shaking out a crisp dress shirt and slipping his arms through the sleeves.
I braced a hand on the dresser and hung my head, gritting my teeth so hard my molars creaked. “I don’t care if we’re late,” I growled, backing him into the wall and lapping at his throat.
Gage hissed and tilted his head to give me better access, even as he slipped his hands between our bodies to button his shirt. “Trust me, you don’t want to leave Dom and Gideon alone down there.”
“Dominic needs a fucking mood adjustment,” I groaned, resting my forehead against his neck. My body was shaking, and I couldn’t even hide it. All I wanted was to throw him on the bed and pound him until the antique frame snapped. But I couldn’t. Gage was already sliding out of my arms and grabbing his shoes. “Just…just give me a minute,” I gasped, willing my erection away.
“Don’t got a minute,” he purred, smacking my ass as he breezed out. “But I’ll make it up to you later.”
“You better,” I muttered, adjusting my fly and following him out the door.
Tonight was going to be agony.
Gage led me down a narrow set of stairs that I assumed had once been reserved for servants, tucked away from the rest of the house like a secret and spilling us into a hall that led to a formal dining room.
A long, polished table stretched beneath an antique chandelier that probably cost more than my first car. The chairs were carved from dark, heavy wood, and even though the cushions were worn thin, there was no mistaking the quality. I knew the family well enough to understand replacing them was never about money—Boone had left them a small fortune. It was about history. This house wasn’t just a roof over their heads; it was the thing that saved them.
I scanned the room out of habit more than nerves. I’d known each brother, individually and as a pack, long enough to know what to expect. They’d invited me for one reason: to weigh me, measure me, and decide if I was worth keeping around. If I wasn’t? They’d let me know in ways that hurt.
I’d been craving nothing but another taste of the salt on Gage’s skin, but the rich, buttery smell of roasted pecans snapped me back. My stomach growled as I eyed the spread. Silver trays overflowed with sweet potato tarts, pickled okra, and honey drizzled cornbread.
None of it had been touched.
Gideon sat at the head of the table like a king in a high-backed throne, all sharp lines and regal features. “Nice of y’all to join me,” he said dryly, tracking us with those copperhead eyes of his as we entered.
“Can’t be late if no one else is here,” Gage quipped without missing a beat. He dropped carelessly into a chair and plucked a pecan from one of the trays, popping it into his mouth and chewing noisily. “Since it was his idea, Mason should’ve been the first one here.”
“He’s had a lot on his plate lately. Working on something important.”
Gage feigned shock and clutched his chest. “More important than family dinner? Say it ain’t so.”
Gideon ignored him and turned his attention on me. “You should take that seat,” he said, nodding to the chair at his right. It faced the door, giving me an unbroken view of everyone coming or going. Exactly the spot I’d have picked in unfamiliar territory.
“If they don’t show soon, I’m starting without them,” Gage threatened, swiping a piece of cornbread and dragging it through a puddle of honey. Melted butter oozed between his fingers, and he glanced at me with a sly look and licked a drop from the edge of his thumb. Sexiest damn thing I ever saw. I shifted uncomfortably, adjusting beneath the table, and he caught my gaze and winked.
The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
Gideon’s lips twitched. “Patience is a virtue, little brother.”
“Patience?” Gage scoffed, grinning hugely. “Never heard of her.”
The priest’s rare, unguarded smile caught me off guard. There was more warmth in that smile than I’d credited him with having. But Gage was like that—so happy to be alive that he lit up the darkest moments without even trying.
Watching them like this, it struck me that no matter how much I’d missed Gage over the years…his brothers had missed him just as much.
Then Dominic walked in, and all traces of warmth vanished. Since I was facing the door, I spotted him first, but I swore Gideon’s body tensed with near instant recognition without even looking. His spine stiffened, and the laughter in his face vanished like mist off the bayou.
Unbothered by the chilly reception, Dominic strolled in with his usual swagger. Like usual, he was dressed all in black, crisp slacks and loose-fitting shirt, both so perfectly tailored that he managed to be the best dressed man in the room without even trying. His gaze swept the room, lingering for a moment on Gideon before he turned and murmured something to the hulking man behind him. The man nodded and melted back into the shadows of the hallway.
“Damn, you’re really gonna make Marcel wait in the hall?” Gage asked, pulling out a chair beside him for his brother. “Why does he put up with you?”
“It’s his job.” Dominic ignored the offered seat and claimed the one beside me, dragging it obnoxiously close. His cologne was sharp and herbal, strong enough to get my eyes watering. He was trying to annoy me on purpose, and I refused to rise to the bait.
Gage’s grin faltered. He leaned forward anxiously, ready to intervene. “Don’t start,” he warned.
I nudged Gage’s foot under the table. His glare shifted to me, but I shook my head, signaling to let it go. Antagonizing Dominic was rarely worth it.
Dominic caught the exchange and smirked. “Listen to your deputy, Gage,” he drawled in a voice filled with so much condescension I had to fight the urge to shove his head through a wall. “He likes to pretend he has your best interests at heart.”