“You know I’m not.” I tilt my head and study him. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making sure.” He pours more of the sweet champagne into our flutes and leans against the back of the couch, watching me. “Would you like some dessert?”
“Sure. What do we have?”
He pulls the lids off the plates and reveals little dishes of beautiful crème brule. “Looks like crème brule.”
“Delish,” I murmur and grin as he scoops up a spoonful and feeds it to me. “Mmm.”
“Good?”
“Mmm hmm.” I reach for it, but he pulls it out of my grasp and takes a bite himself.
“Mmm,” he nods. “Good.” He takes another bite and I frown at him and reach for the other dessert, but he blocks me. “I got this.”
“Well then gimme!”
“Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles and feeds me another bite, then takes a bite himself. I crawl over and climb in his lap, and he feeds both of us, grabbing the other ramekin when the first one is empty.
“Did you get enough?” he asks as he pushes the dishes aside and wraps his arms around me.
“More than enough. Thank you.”
He smiles against my hair and kisses me, while running his hands up and down my back. “You’re welcome, babe.”
His hand glides down my hip to my thigh and under my dress, and heads back up again. I grin against his chest as my pulse accelerates and I cup his face in my hand. “You know, someone could see us out here.”
“They could,” he mutters and kisses my forehead, that talented hand still exploring under my dress.
“We should behave,” I whisper and kiss his lips gently.
“That’s no fun,” he whispers back, making me giggle.
“What do you want to do?” I ask as I nibble down his neck.
“You,” he whispers and I grin again, spread my legs slightly and guide his hand between them.
“Feel how wet you make me when you say stuff like that?” I whisper against his lips. His eyes flare, his fingers find my clit and rub gently, then slip down and slide easily into my wetness. “Oh, God, honey.”
Finally, he takes my mouth possessively with his own, kissing me deeply and madly, while his fingers continue to wreak havoc on my core. Dear God, he makes me crazy with just two fingers.
Who am I kidding, he makes me crazy by just looking at me.
“Want you,” I mutter between kisses and he groans deep in his throat, lifts me to straddle him, and I reach between us to unfasten his shorts and unleash the hard cock that has been pressing into my hip.
“God, I love your hands,” he mutters, looking down at me pumping his length. Finally I can’t take it anymore, and I raise up and slowly guide him inside me. “Oh fucking hell, babe.”
His eyes are clenched shut, jaw tight, hands gripping my hips like vices and I’ve never felt more sexy.
The skirt of my dress falls around our laps, so even if someone did see us, it just looks like I’m sitting on his lap, and I begin to rock. Not fast, and not so that it really even looks like we’re having sex. I just rock slowly and clench around him tightly.
“Meg, you’re gonna make me come like this, sweetheart.”
“That’s the point, babe,” I lean down and kiss him, bury my hands in his hair and continue the assault on his cock, clenching and rocking, and as I do, it puts pressure on my metal, against my clit and I find myself getting close too, shivering and convulsing around him. “I’m going with you.”
His eyes open and he watches me with hooded eyes and his mouth open, gasping. He cups my face in his hands and pulls me down to him, kisses me tenderly and then whispers, “I love you,” as he surges up and empties himself inside me, growling. The words, the pressure of his orgasm, what he’s doing to my body, sends me over with him, but before I can cry out, he covers my mouth with his to hold the sound down, and I explode in wonder and complete surrender.
I love you too.
Why am I so fucking afraid to say it?
Chapter Sixteen
Will
I could lie here all day and watch her sleep. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. She is all gold skin and auburn hair against crisp white sheets. Her delicate face is soft in sleep, and little pink lips are slightly parted.
This week has been the best of my life. Hell, the month or so we’ve been together has been the best of my life, and that’s saying a lot because I know that I am one lucky son of a bitch.
But Meg makes everything incredible. She’s funny and smart and so damn talented.
And she’s asleep, in this bed, with me. It’s our last morning in New Orleans, and I must admit I regret that it’s over so quickly. I’ll be sure to take her away again as soon as the season ends. We’ll go to Europe, or Hawaii.
Fuck, anywhere she wants.
It’s been fun to watch her enjoy the amazing music of this city, the sounds and smells, the uniqueness that is New Orleans.