Maverick and Mistletoe (Hell's Handlers MC 10.50)

“It’s been steadily worsening over the past few months,” Brooke said. “And now we’ve got some guys from Curly’s old club sniffing around. Probably who you ran across at the gas station.” She shook her head and gave Steph what appeared to be a forced smile. “How about we let them deal with that? You are on vacation.”

For a moment, Steph considered pressing the issue for more information on Scott, but was it worth it? Probably not. Mav would find out anything the club needed to know, and he, Copper, and Curly would figure out the best way to deal with Scott. “You’re right. I am on vacation. No more club talk.” She winked. “Have I mentioned how gorgeous I think your property is?”

Brooke beamed, and they moved onto lighter topics, getting to know each other better while ignoring the sounds of angry men yelling inside.

Somewhere around an hour later and a few glasses of wine in, Mav and Curly strolled outside wearing matching expressions of amusement. Of course, they appeared just as Brooke said something that made Stephanie choke on her wine and look like a fool. That caused both to dissolve in a fit of giggles.

And…enter the men.

“Well, shit,” Mav said, amusement lacing his tone. “We took too long. They’ve passed tipsy and moved straight to sloppy.”

Steph glanced at Brooke, who did a horrendous job hiding her amusement. They both lost it again.

“Jesus,” Curly said with a groan. “They always get like this?”

With a snort, Mav said, “You have no idea. Your safest course of action is to ban any of the guys from having ol’ ladies. Trust me, it’ll save you from carting a drunken mess home after countless girls’ nights.”

“Hey!” Steph said, pointing her wineglass Mav’s way. Wine sloshed over the top. “Whoops. Like you and the guys never get wasted? You try steering a handsy, six-foot-four biker to bed after he’s had half a bottle of Jack.”

“Think I’ll pass,” Curly said with a smirk.

“All right, babycakes, let’s get you into a bed,” Mav said as he strode over.

“Oooh,” Steph purred. Just hearing the word bed out of her sexy husband’s mouth had her more than ready to get horizontal.

“Oooh, what?” He asked with a snort. “You’ll pass out before you can get your panties off.”

“I will not—whoa, hey!”

Mav scooped her up and hefted her over his shoulder as though she weighed no more than a pillow.

The world flip-flopped, which wasn’t a great thing when she was having a hard enough time focusing. “Seriously?”

He gave her a light smack on her ass.

Oh, that was kinda hot.

“I’m always serious about you and your panties, babe.”

She huffed but couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Not what I meant.”

“Night, Steph!” Brooke called. “You up for helping me with the dogs in the morning?”

Dangling upside down, Steph pushed off Mav’s back so she could see Brooke. Or try to see her. Where the hell was the ground? “Definitely!” she yelled when she finally found her friend. “Wake me whenever you need to tend to them.”

They hadn’t exactly gotten around to a house tour when they first arrived, but Curly must have shown Mav the guest room at some point because he seemed to know exactly where to go. After a few steps, Mav righted her but didn’t put her down. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rested her heavy head on his shoulder. The world swam before her eyes, so she kept them closed.

A few seconds later, she landed on a soft mattress with a sexy tattooed biker hovering over her. Mav cradled her face between his palms.

“You okay?” she asked as she gazed up into his dark eyes. “Tonight was kinda intense.”

He nodded. “I’m solid. Love you so fucking much, Stephie.”

Her eyes immediately watered. Damn wine. “God, I love you too, Mav.” So much more than she ever could have imagined loving a man.

“Thank you for trusting me. I know it goes against your nature and your training to take a back seat in a situation like tonight. I didn’t you to stay in the car because—”

She leaned up and kissed the words right off his lips. He tasted of whisky and peanuts. For her, Mav came first. Before her training, before her instinct, before her own needs. “Trusting you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” she whispered. “I know why you asked me to stay back. And I understand.”

With his eyes pinched shut, he pressed their foreheads together. “The thought of something—”

“Shhhh. Baby, I’m fine. Don’t go there, okay?” She stroked the side of his scruffy face.

He nodded then kissed her. A sweet and hungry kiss. Her favorite kind. He kissed her as though a war was raging in him—wanting to be the most tender, adoring lover and the desire to ravage her until she screamed his name. Either would be heaven, but somehow, he managed to do both nearly every time, leaving her a satisfied and worshiped woman.