“And maybe you should sell it for you.”
She was probably right, but he couldn’t do that. Not when a big part of him still wanted to hold on to Sara. That house and its contents were all he had left of her, of them. And he didn’t want to forget her or the time they’d spent together. But maybe if he dealt with his sorrow and the guilt that ate him alive, he could figure out how to move on. Something had to change; he was miserable. He’d been miserable for a long time. He just hadn’t realized it until Dawn played her way under his skin and into his heart.
“Do you want to stay here in New Orleans tonight or leave for Galveston right away?” he asked.
With the exception of Adam, the rest of the band had cleared out of New Orleans so they could catch a plane back to Austin for their weekend off. Kellen was admittedly tired after the performance, and it was at least a six-hour drive to the island, but they could get a head start if they left right away.
“Don’t you still have that lovely suite in the hotel that’s going to waste?” she asked.
“Yeah. The band rented that whole block of rooms for the weekend, and Adam is the only one putting his to good use.” And Kellen was sure that with Madison there for the weekend, Adam was putting that room to very good use.
“So let’s stay here tonight and leave in the morning. We can grab a late dinner and have some fun on Bourbon Street. I never managed to reach my friends, but we can venture out on our own.”
That sounded like a frivolous start to what was sure to be an emotionally trying weekend. Maybe they’d decide to play in New Orleans the entire time. That option would keep things light and entertaining, the way a budding relationship should be.
“Great plan,” Kellen said.
He called for a cab since neither of them wanted the attention that came with taking the limo. He wasn’t sure it had returned from dropping the guys—and Lindsey—at the airstrip anyway.
“Any idea where you want to go?” Kellen asked, checking an app on his phone for suggestions as they waited for their ride. “There’s never a lack of activities in New Orleans. And you did promise to play me that jazz song.” Though he couldn’t for the life of him remember the title of it. Something about a train.
“I’m surprised you remembered, but yeah, I’ll play you a tune. Have you ever been to the Carousel Bar?”
“Never heard of it,” he admitted. Owen usually picked the spots to visit when they were on tour, and he always chose sex clubs, so those were the only places Kellen knew about in the cities he’d visited. Kellen didn’t even want to suggest something like an evening at a sex club to a sophisticated woman like Dawn.
“It’s in the Monteleone Hotel on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. You’ll love it.”
He had heard of Bourbon Street and the French Quarter—they’d been in that general area earlier that day—but he wasn’t familiar with the Mont-whatever Hotel. “I’m game,” he said. “Do I have to wear a shirt?”
She laughed and placed a kiss on his chest, her fingers tracing the outlines of the many tattoos that decorated his skin. “I prefer you like this, but if we want service, you’ll have to hide this man candy from view.”
“Man candy?” Kellen was used to Owen being the man candy when he went out. Kellen served as his wing man, and he wasn’t sure he wanted Owen’s role. He’d much rather be admired for his ideals, interests, and talents than for his body. But maybe Dawn could appreciate him for all those qualities and his body too.
“Candy delicious enough to lick,” Dawn said, her tongue sliding over one pec, which flexed involuntarily beneath her exploration.
He enjoyed her touching him—he couldn’t deny that—but he still didn’t feel comfortable under her attention. Especially when he didn’t have ropes binding her gorgeous body. He had no problem doting on her; admittedly, he’d been doing that all day. But when they were alone together and their making out progressed to making love, he had to tie her up before he could fuck her properly. He needed time to reflect on that need, and he sure couldn’t do that with her beguiling mouth on his flesh.
He took her by the shoulders, not to push her away or to draw her closer, but to encourage her to stay right where she was—neither too far, nor too close. He wondered if she really understood what she’d gotten herself into when she’d sought him out and pledged to give their relationship a try. He already knew opening his heart to a new woman would not be easy for him, and by extension, it would be challenging for Dawn as well.
“We’ll have to stop by the hotel before we go out,” he said. “All of my clothes are there.”
“Perhaps,” she said, her lips sucking kisses along his chest, “we should just stay in.”
“Or we could savor each other’s company outside the bedroom.” Where ropes weren’t required.
Her head tilted, her pretty eyes searching his face. “If you were any other man, I’d take that as a stinging rejection.”
He’d done the same to her the night before. He hoped he didn’t make her feel unwanted. She was definitely wanted. He was the problem, not her.
“I’m not rejecting you. I’d very much like to tie you into little knots both inside and out and then deep, deep inside.”
She shivered beneath his fingertips, and he felt the pull of her body on his in the primal place he’d kept locked tight until she’d smashed it open the night they’d met.
“But . . .” She encouraged him to continue.
“But if we start with outside knots and move to those deep inside knots, which is what will happen if we’re alone together in my hotel room, we’ll be skipping that first step.”
“And how does that first step work?”
He lifted his brows at her. “Tying you in knots on the inside?”
She nodded, a smile on her lush lips.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
He held her hand in the cab to the hotel, his thumb rubbing the pulse point in her wrist.
“I enjoyed the concert,” Dawn said. “Even though I saw your show just last night, it still feels new and exciting.”
“Do you often go to the orchestra?”
She smiled and ducked her head. “I often am the orchestra. I do quite a few solo concerts.”
“So you don’t just compose, you perform? Professionally?” He realized he knew very little about her day-to-day activities. He’d met her when she’d been hiding from the world in a beach house and searching for her muse. He was glad she’d found inspiration in him, but he had no idea what her real life was like.
“I go back and forth,” she said. “Sometimes the music comes pouring out of my soul—that’s when I compose—and sometimes it pours from my heart—that’s when I perform.”