Treacherous (The Wolf Pack Series) (3 page)

“Yeah.” He ran a hand over her hip, the heat of his skin penetrating her flimsy cotton nightgown. She marveled that after sixteen years of marriage, and despite the problems that plagued their relationship, Sterling could still turn her on like a switch.

“Since the fellas and I didn’t play for money,” he continued, gently caressing her bottom, “I was hoping to get my reward from
you
.”

“Oh, really?” Celeste’s hips were slowly undulating, grinding against the rigid bulge of his erection. “And who told you to expect a reward from me?
I
certainly don’t remember promising you anything.”

“Like I said,” he drawled, his voice husky with arousal as he dragged her nightgown up her thigh, “I
hoped
you would.”

“Well, you can
hope
all you—” She broke off with a soft gasp as he reached between her legs and touched her pulsing sex.

“Mmmm,” he rumbled appreciatively. “I love it when you go to bed without any underwear.”

Celeste groaned with pleasure as he stroked the slick, plump folds of her labia. Her thighs parted of their own accord, giving him better access even as she protested feebly, “I told you we can’t do this in a houseful of people.” Sterling laughed softly, rubbing her clitoris. “You say that every summer, babe, and we
still
end up doing the nasty. If it makes you feel any better, Stan and Prissy are probably doing the same thing this very minute.” Celeste barely heard a word he’d said. Her heart was pounding as tremors of sensation raced through her body. When Sterling eased a long finger inside her, she closed her eyes and moaned his name—part encouragement, part rebuke.

“Just relax and enjoy this,” he murmured coaxingly as he fingered her, ratcheting up her need. “You feel so damn good, honey. I’ve missed touching you like this.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Celeste whispered, writhing against his hand as a delicious pressure swelled in her loins. “Make love to me, baby.
Please
.” He was already sliding his finger out of her and yanking down his boxer shorts.

She sat up halfway and tugged her nightshirt over her head, then flung the garment to the floor. Sterling pulled her close and kissed between her shoulder blades, the soft rasp of his goatee making her shiver.

Keeping her on her side, he lifted up her leg and slid into her wetness. She cried out, arching backward as her body stretched to accommodate his thick, hard length.

He groaned hoarsely. “
So
damn good.”

Celeste couldn’t agree more. This had always been one of her favorite sexual positions with Sterling. As he began moving inside her, the friction of his shaft rubbing against her clitoris drove her out of her mind.

Looking over her shoulder, she met his gaze. His dark eyes glittered fiercely in the moonlight pouring through the window. He leaned down and kissed her, deeply and sensually. His mouth was flavored with whiskey and peach cobbler.

Celeste sucked his tongue, savoring the taste and texture of him.

As they licked into each other’s mouths, Sterling reached around her and cupped her swollen breasts, stroking her erect nipples. She broke the kiss, burying her face in her pillow to muffle a loud moan.

He spread her butt cheeks as his thrusts deepened, his hips slapping softly against her backside. They rocked back and forth together, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. When they were connected like this, Celeste couldn’t remember why she was so unhappy, why she felt trapped. All that mattered was the way Sterling made her feel, like she’d perish if she were ever deprived of the sheer pleasure of his lovemaking.

So when they came together, shuddering and whispering tender endearments to each other, leaving him for another man was the furthest thing from her mind.

When Sterling strolled into the bright country kitchen the next morning, there was a small crowd gathered around the stove, where Michael was cooking an omelet.

Glancing up at Sterling’s approach, Evangeline smiled warmly. “Good morning, baby. You’re just in time for your son’s demonstration.” Sterling chuckled, bending to kiss her soft cheek. “That boy showing off again?”

“You know it, Uncle Sterl,” Manning drawled, lounging at a large cedar table that overlooked a sprawling backyard. Unlike everyone else, he apparently didn’t need or want a front-row seat to his cousin’s culinary theater. “That Negro thinks he’s Julia Child or something.”

“Shut up, Manny,” Michael retorted. “You’re just jealous ’cause you can’t do this—” He grabbed the skillet handle and flipped the omelet into the air with a flourish to rival the skill of any professional chef. As the others oohed and aahed, Michael grinned cockily.

“How’d you do that, Mike?” his younger cousins marveled.

“I’ve asked him,” Marcus grumbled, “and he won’t teach me.” Michael chuckled. “Nothing to it. It’s all in the wrist.” He slid the picture-perfect omelet onto a plate, added a fork, then gallantly presented the dish to his great-grandmother.

Evangeline beamed with pleasure. “My goodness. This looks and smells wonderful, baby.” She cut into the thick, fragrant omelet and ate a forkful. “Oh, that is
heavenly
, Michael. Where on earth did you learn how to make these?” Snickering, Manning interjected, “I told you, Mama Wolf. He’s been watching Julia Child’s show.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, clown.” Michael jabbed a finger at his smirking cousin.

“We’ll see who’s cracking jokes when I kick your sorry behind on the basketball court later. That is, if you don’t chicken out on playing me.” Everyone laughed as Manning scowled, ducking his head at the memory of the drubbing he’d suffered during last summer’s face-off with Michael. The cousins, who were two years apart, had a humorously adversarial relationship that reminded Sterling of the way he and Stanton had always competed with each other.

After shutting Manny up, Michael made a show of cracking his knuckles before returning to his cooking. “Who wants the next omelet?”

“I do!”

“No, me!”

“I was here first!”

As the boys began bickering and jockeying for position around the stove, Evangeline sighed and passed her plate to Sterling. “Here, baby. You finish this for me while I help Michael with breakfast. Don’t want no riot breaking out.” Unable to resist, she ate another bite of the omelet, then made an appreciative sound. “Absolutely delicious. He’ll have to give me the recipe.” As Sterling chuckled at the thought of his grandmother needing a recipe from anyone—let alone a sixteen-year-old kid—Evangeline gave Manning a stern look.

“Boy, make yourself useful and set the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he rose to do her bidding, Sterling claimed a chair at the table and enthusiastically dug into his omelet. He’d polished it off and was hankering for another one when Celeste entered the kitchen. Wearing a sleeveless yellow sundress and flat sandals, she looked so pretty and feminine that she took Sterling’s breath away.

Meeting his rapt gaze, she blushed and smiled demurely. He knew she was remembering the steamy night of passion they’d shared. They’d made love into the wee hours before dawn, unable to get enough of each other. When he crept out of bed that morning, she’d been sleeping so soundly she didn’t even hear him leave the room.

Pulling her shy gaze from Sterling’s, Celeste glanced across the large kitchen to where Evangeline and Michael were getting breakfast ready. “Good morning, you two,” she greeted them.

“Good morning, dear,” Evangeline said warmly.

Michael glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Ma.”

Celeste smiled. “Hey, yourself. Do you two need help with anything?”

“No, baby,” Evangeline answered, briskly stirring a pot of grits. “Michael and I have everything under control now that we shooed everyone out. So you just take a seat beside your husband and wait to be served.”

“All right,” Celeste agreed, walking over to the table.

Before she could sit down, Sterling reached out and caught her around the waist. She let out a surprised gasp as he pulled her onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” she whispered. “Not in front of—” Sterling kissed her, silencing her protest.

Their lips clung for several long, pleasurable moments before Celeste drew away. Her cheeks were flushed as she glanced self-consciously at Evangeline and Michael, who were grinning at them.

“Don’t mind us,” Evangeline said gaily. “Just pretend we’re not even here.” Sterling grinned wickedly. “In that case—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Celeste warned, jumping off his lap before he could steal another kiss. He laughed, watching as she settled into the chair beside him and primly crossed her legs. If they’d been alone, he would have slipped his hand under her dress, running his fingers up her thigh until he found her sweet spot.

Just thinking about touching her there made him want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her back to bed.

“Good morning, everyone.”

Sterling glanced toward the doorway, where Stanton and Prissy had just appeared. Both wore sheepish grins and looked slightly disheveled, as if they’d dressed in a hurry.

Chuckling, Sterling leaned over and murmured in Celeste’s ear, “I told you we weren’t the only ones doing the nasty last night.” She took one look at the other couple, and dissolved into laughter.

***

After breakfast, the Wolf Pack descended upon downtown Savannah to enjoy a lazy afternoon of sightseeing. Although Sterling had practically grown up in Savannah, and had brought his family there every summer for the past sixteen years, he’d never lost his appreciation for the city’s picturesque charm. Spanish moss cascaded from majestic oaks that lined the historic streets. Horse-drawn carriages meandered past elegant old mansions adorned with lush gardens.

Tourists gathered on verandas to sip mint juleps and watch passersby.

Strolling hand in hand with Celeste as they lagged behind the others, Sterling felt a deep sense of contentment wash over him. Although his life was far from perfect, he knew he had a lot to be grateful for. He had a beautiful wife and two amazing sons, a close-knit family, a career that he enjoyed, good friends, and excellent health. What more could a man ask for?

“You’re doing it again.”

Celeste’s mildly amused voice pulled him out of his reverie. He glanced at her. “Doing what?”

“Looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.” Sterling chuckled. “Is that how I look?”

“Yup. You’ve been smiling so hard your cheeks must hurt.” Her voice softened. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this relaxed in ages.” He grinned. “We’re on vacation. I’m
supposed
to be relaxed.”

“I know.” A small, whimsical smile touched her lips. “Maybe we shouldn’t go back home.”

“What?”

Celeste shrugged. “If being here makes you this happy, then maybe we should just stay.”

“What? An extra week?”

She hesitated. “Permanently.”

“
Permanently
?” Sterling laughed, shaking his head at her. “I think the heat must be getting to you, honey. You know we can’t stay here.” She met his gaze directly. “Why not?”

“Are you serious? Because we—”

“Hey, Dad,” Marcus interrupted excitedly. “Can I have a snow cone?” Sterling glanced around, surprised to realize that they had reached Market Street, which comprised nine blocks of shops that sold unique gifts, souvenirs, artwork, homemade candy, and a wide selection of products manufactured in Savannah.

Marcus was eyeing him hopefully. “Can I?”

Sterling removed a crisp bill from his wallet and handed the money to his son.

“Get one for everybody else, too.”

“Cool! Thanks, Dad!”

Sterling and Celeste smiled, watching as Marcus dashed off to rejoin his cousins, who gave him high-fives when they saw the twenty-dollar bill he’d scored. A few yards away, Michael and Manning stood talking to two pretty, brown-skinned girls who could have been students at the local college.

“They’re all growing up so fast,” Celeste murmured, a wistful note in her voice. “I still remember each of them in diapers, cake smeared on their faces at their first birthday parties. It seems like only yesterday that Prissy was pregnant with Mason.” She chuckled. “Remember how big she was? We all swore she was having twins.”

Sterling laughed, his gaze wandering to where his brother and his wife, along with Mama Wolf, were admiring some African-American artwork. Evangeline had never met a painting she didn’t want to buy, whether for herself or someone else. The pieces she’d given Sterling and Celeste over the years were among their most valuable possessions.

As they started across the square, a tinkling peal of laughter drew their attention to where Michael and Manning were still flirting with their female companions. One of the girls was resting her hand on Michael’s arm and beaming at him, clearly charmed by whatever he was telling her.

Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “Is it just me, or do those girls look old enough to be in college?”

“Nope, it’s not just you.”

When Sterling caught his brother’s gaze, Stanton raised a thick brow as if to say,
Are you seeing what I’m seeing?

Sterling nodded.

They traded slow, conspiratorial grins.

Excusing themselves from their wives, they sauntered toward the small group.

As they drew near, Michael could be heard saying, “So listen, baby, why don’t you give me your number and I’ll—ow!” He whipped his head around to glare at Manning, who had elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Following the direction of his cousin’s alarmed gaze, Michael’s eyes widened with dread at the sight of their approaching fathers.

“Gentlemen,” Sterling greeted them, draping an arm around each boy’s tense shoulder. “How’s it going? Enjoying yourselves?”