“Batten down the hatches, Curly,” Tabby advised Carissa’s way. “And that’s not about the Chaos babes hittin’ town. That’s about us doin’ it with Elvira.”

I had a feeling she knew what she was talking about.

It had been a long time since I’d had a night on the town, or at least one that ended well.

But looking through the women, three of them my sisters of the blood and the heart, the rest my sisters of Chaos, I was looking forward to it.

High

“Here they are,” the woman announced, coming back into the room carrying two balls of fluff.

“Oh my God,” Millie breathed, and High turned his attention from the cat breeder to his girl.

When he did, he froze.

She didn’t.

Moving with purpose, but not in a way that would spook the kittens, she made it to the breeder and took both cats from her.

“That’s the boy.” The breeder touched the one in Millie’s right hand. “And that’s your girl.” She moved her hand to the one in Millie’s left.

“Look at you,” Millie cooed to the one on the right that she’d tucked up high on her chest. “You’re my own personal fluff ball, squishy-faced grumpy cat.” She turned to the other one, also tucked up high, and continued, “And look at you, my fluff ball, squishy-faced, pretty-pretty princess.”

High’s girls were going to fall head over heels for those kittens.

But right then, he was watching his Millie, alight with happiness, snuggle two tiny balls of fur and he did it fighting to breathe.

They weren’t her own babies.

But they were something to cherish.

There was no doubt she was going to cherish them.

And he was around so he got to watch.

Millie looked to the breeder. “These babies are the best things I ever spent money on.”

The breeder smiled.

Millie turned back to the kittens. “Time to go home,” she told them, then looked to High.

He forced himself to move. “Crates, babe.”

She nodded but asked, “Don’t you wanna meet them?”

He didn’t.

It wasn’t that he disliked cats. It was just that he was a dog man. He’d wanted to get a puppy for the girls for years but Deb didn’t like animals.

It was something he intended to do when he got a house. Buy a dog for them and for him.

Now they were all getting cats.

With the way Millie was right then, he didn’t mind.

But before he could say no, Millie shoved her right hand to him so he had no choice but to take hold of the boy kitten.

Christ, he was a squishy-faced grumpy cat. He looked kitty ticked.

He also stretched out a paw and clawed High’s whiskers with his thin baby claws, his big blue eyes staring at High with an intelligence High’d never noticed from any animal.

“Hey, Chief,” he muttered.

“That’s it,” Millie said, getting close to him. “He’s Chief.” She looked down to the cat she held. “And this little princess is Poem because only a poem could describe how beautiful she is.”

She’d always been good at naming precious things.

The memory made his voice rough when he said, “Let’s get them home, baby.”

Millie looked to him, searched his face, and smiled a sweet little smile.

“You’ve fallen in love,” she declared.

He had.

Twenty-three years ago.

“He looks pissed off,” High replied, and looked to the kitten. “But it’s a cute pissed off.”

“You’ve so fallen in love,” she returned, then stuck the other one out to him. “Here, try this one.”

She took Chief and gave him Poem and High looked down at her.

She was pretty, though she looked sad.

“Hope you’re smilin’ on the inside, darlin’,” he murmured to the cat. “ ’Cause you’re goin’ to a home where you’ll get lotsa love.”

The cat yawned.

Millie giggled and pressed her side to his.

High looked to her, then to the breeder. “We’ll get outta your hair.”

She nodded, looking content, and she would be, seeing as it was clear she found a good home for her brood.

“Keep in touch,” she invited. “Send pictures.”

High guided Millie to the two cat crates he’d bought as Millie replied, “I will. Tons of them.”

“That’d be great,” the breeder returned.

They got the cats into the crates and got them out to his truck.

High pulled out of the drive and headed them home, doing all this with Millie twisted in her seat, cooing to the backseat constantly.

“Woman lives fifteen minutes away, Millie. We’ll get them home before they’re traumatized,” he teased.

“I can’t take my eyes off them,” she said. “They’re that perfect.”

He reached out and curled his fingers around her thigh.

“Happy?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

So he looked her way and saw her eyes on him.

Before he turned back to the road, soft, sweet Millie finally answered.

“Yes.”

He heard it in that word.

He should have known it.

Five days he had her back.

Just five.

And the way she said that word, he knew.

She’d been fixed.

It had nothing to do with High. It had nothing to do with cats.

It had everything to do with Millie.

When she wanted something, she didn’t fuck around.

She’d been broken.

After putting her together, she’d been fragile.

Then she’d toughened up, sorted her shit, and got on with it.

So yeah.

He should have known it.

That was his girl.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mom Jeans

High

FUCK.

Fuck.

“Babe,” he warned on a growl.

She kept at him with her mouth, body tucked between his legs, having woken him up to get to his dick. All he’d done was cock his knees, stay down, and get blown.

He wouldn’t know but evidence was clear, giving spectacular head was like riding a bike.

You didn’t forget. Not any of it.

Or at least his girl hadn’t forgotten.

“Millie,” he grunted. “Beautiful.”

She kept at him.

Which meant she was going to take him.

And she did when he blew. Through the phenomenal orgasm, he felt her tongue move on his cock when she swallowed and he felt the sucking strokes as she milked it all out of him.

Christ.

Outstanding.

When he came down, she was licking him, sucking him, cradling his balls. It wasn’t as good as the blowjob, but it was a close second.

“Bottoms off,” he ordered thickly, lifting his head to look down at her.

He felt a throb hit his dick when she kept licking and he saw through the early morning shadows as she lifted only her eyes to him.

Fuck, his girl got off on his cock.

He got up on his elbows.

“Bottoms off, Millie,” he repeated.

She wrapped her hand around his dick and lifted up. “Snooks, you don’t—”

“Off,” he demanded.

“But it’s okay for me to give—”

He pushed all the way up to sitting, forcing her to let him go and move up to her knees.

“Off,” he bit out.

She held his eyes but dropped to her hip in order to yank down her clingy, silky pajama bottoms. Taking her panties with them, she kicked them off.

They barely cleared her feet before High lay back, moving her with him, dragging her up his body and then some in a way she’d not mistake his intent.

So she helped, drawing up her knees to straddle his head.

But it was High that yanked her down, burying his face in her pussy.

She knew better than to protest.

He gave what he got or he gave better.

Nothing less.

So he gave what he got but he gave better, clamping her to him through her first orgasm and keeping at her until she trembled and whimpered through her second.

Only then did he drag her back down and reach for the covers to yank them over their bodies.

She was spent, he could tell with the amount of weight she gave him.