Laughing at his droll tone, I glanced around and spied Ray at the bar. Dressed in the bar’s uniform of short, black, pleated skirt, a figure-hugging white top, and black pumps, she hurried over. Her hair was longer now and pulled into a ponytail, and the pink streaks in her bangs were blue. She no longer lived with us after we’d moved from the apartment to a loft in SoMa. Ray preferred being closer to school.
“Table’s at the back,” she informed us with a lisp. Yes, she’d gone and gotten her tongue pierced last week for some reason. “The Playersare already here.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked again.
She grinned. “Nope.”
As we made our way to the back, I cut Max a look over my shoulder. “This is all your doing.”
That bisected eyebrow lifted. “Me?”
“Yep, you and all your hidden jewelry.” I bit my lip to stop from smiling.
He lowered his head, whispered, “You love my cock piercing, admit it.”
Heat blistering my face, I didn’t look at him. His soft laughter tickled my ear. A group of people trailed past us. Max drew me close, hands on my hips. Being in this position, I couldn’t resist. Wearing heels, my hips aligned with his groin, I did a slow hip roll. He stiffened. Yep, that piece of jewelry didn’t only give me more pleasure than I ever believed possible, but it was also highly arousing for him.
His warm breath feathered my neck. “You’re in so much trouble, Logan.”
I smiled, loving when he said my name in that low, growly tone.
At our approach, War jumped up. A fist pound followed. “About time you got here, man. Now that you’re leading a staid, working life, we barely get to see you.”
Grunting, Max pulled out my chair. “You left our loft quite late last night.”
“Youkicked us out,” War, seated again next to Jack, groused. “It wasn’t even eleven.”
“Right, I did. I had things to do...” Max cut me a heated look.
“Please. Spare me.” War’s mouth twitched into a smile.
“What’s up, man?” Jack gave him a quick handshake and a quizzical look. Then shut up when Max didn’t answer. I frowned. Had Max called them here? He joined the guys at the bar once a week, so why the surprise?
“How’s the painting biz, Ila?” Jack asked, distracting me.
“Great. Busy.” I’d had to quit my day job with Kate because the gallery wanted more of my work.
Max sat beside me and leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his broad chest. He still wore the charcoal-gray dress pants and shirt—ones he’d worn to work—but he’d gotten rid of his coat and tie and had folded his sleeves to his elbows, revealing those strong, sexy, tattooed forearms. The plaited leather bracelet I’d given him two years ago never left his wrist, even when he went to work.
Had it really been two years since we’d met? Felt like it was yesterday at times.
Max slung his arm around my chair, his fingers caressing my bare arm. Since he was still in his work clothes, I was glad I’d listened to Ray and not worn my usual jeans to the pub. Instead, I had put on a vintage, sleeveless, black and white dress a few inches above my knees, and had teamed it with black, sling-back wedges.
“Ila, there you are.”
Frowning, I turned then shot up from my chair, a wide grin on my face. “Charli? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Germany?”
She was flying solo these days. She’d completely sworn off men after Craig. Soon after their breakup, she’d taken a job overseas.
Charli flipped back her spiral hair and laughed, her light brown eyes sparkling. “I just got back, got a new job offer. Ray called, said you guys were all meeting up here, so here I am.”
I hugged her. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me, too.” She leaned across me toward Max. “Hey, Max.”
“Charli. Good to see you again.” Then he said, “Those are my friends. That’s Jack Griffin, and the big guy next to him is Eli Warrick—War to everyone. Guys, Charlotte Jones.”
“Hello.” She gave them an easy smile and sat on the other side of me then turned as my sister brought our drinks to the table. “Ray!” Charli leaped up, her short skirt swaying around her dusky thighs as she squeezed my sister.
