Hurricanes and Handcuffs: A Red Hot Cajun Nights Story Read Online Free

at the warm, numbing buzz that spread behind his sternum. Probably getting hammered the night before the party wasn’t the brightest idea ever, but fuck it. He needed it after the day he’d had.
    Loosening the top button on his shirt, he crossed to the leather couch situated in front of the bay window overlooking the outdoor pool. He stretched out on the cushions. Stacking one arm behind his head, he gazed at the gilt-framed Picasso hanging behind his desk.
    His entire life he’d been surrounded by beautiful things. If he saw something he wanted, he bought it, plain and simple. He knew damn well he was compensating for the emptiness in his existence by cramming his living spaces with objects to fill the void. Did it make him feel better? Jury was still out on that one.
    Maybe once upon a time he’d found pleasure in priceless art and other luxuries. But lately all he felt was an unrelenting agitation. Disconnected and discontent. He hated this restless stirring inside him. This unwavering conviction that no matter how many millions of dollars he spent on things that meant nothing, he’d never be satisfied. Never fully happy.
    He didn’t want to be like his parents. But when he looked around at all of this stuff, and what he saw was a mirrored reflection of his childhood, he knew he was doomed.
    Queasiness sloshing in his gut, he dragged a hand across his face and straightened. The whiskey beckoning a siren’s call of blissful oblivion, he returned to the bar and poured another shot. By the time he finished the dregs of number four, a warm glow dulled the edges of his unease. Sleepiness getting the better of him, he slumped on the couch and fell into a fitful snooze.
     
    A strange tickle of sensation brushed across his cheek, nudging him from a foggy dreamland where he’d been tangled up naked with Gabbi. Prying open his eyes, he gazed blearily at the shadowed figure leaning over him. “Gabbi?”
    She jerked her hand away from his face. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.” Averting her eyes, she tucked something soft under his chin.
    He moved his arm, only to discover it was trapped under a blanket. “How s’dis get here?”
    She cocked an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the question or the slurred state of his speech. “Must have been the blanket fairy.”
    “Devioush creature. Shneaking in on me like that.”
    Her lips twitched. “Sounds like someone’s been drinking.”
    “The blanket fairy? Hash that husshy been shtealing my boosh again?”
    She chuckled. “Oh man. You are really going to regret this in the morning.”
    He was? Hell, might as well go for broke then. He cut loose of the blanket’s confinement and gripped her around the waist, tugging her on top of him so they were chest to chest. Her breasts felt amazing pillowed against him. He didn’t doubt they’d feel even better nestled in his palms.
    She blinked at him, her mouth popping open, and he quickly banished whatever she’d been about to say by sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. A startled gasp sprung from her, and he swallowed that sound too, his tongue delving inside her mouth to play over the tip of hers. He thrust deeper, reveling in her sweet addictive taste.
    “Jax.” She trembled, her fingertips roving toward his shoulders.
    Hugging her closer, he coasted one hand along her spine while the other sifted through her fragrant hair. She was the only one capable of making his balls ache with the scent of fresh bread and ripe strawberries.
    He sipped at her lips, the sweet sound of her sighs lulling him into a peaceful contentment. The warm glow encroached on the bliss of finally having her in his arms. Even as he struggled to stay focused in the moment he felt it slipping away from him, the post-whiskey haze muddying his senses.
    The last thing he heard before his drunken stupor once again claimed him was the sound of his own snore.

CHAPTER THREE
    She should be infuriated beyond words at a man falling asleep during