“What’s your line of work?”
“Upper management. Investigations.”
“You’re a PI?” Shifting again, she re-crosses her long, sexy legs.
“Basically.” Digging in my pocket, I pull out a twenty. “I should walk you back to your hotel. It’s after two.”
“I didn’t realize I was calling it a night.” A sexy smile curves her lips.
“This place is closing soon, and I won’t rest unless I know you’re safely at your hotel.”
A brief pause, and she slides off the stool toward me, putting us face to face. Her palms are on my chest, and that soft lip slips between her teeth. The pressure in my chest grows tighter. I want her.
“Are you trying to make me believe you’re safe?” she says softly.
“I’m not safe.” My hand moves to her lower back. “But I would never put you in danger.”
“I’m not sure I trust you.”
Leaning down, I catch her eyes. “You can always trust me.”
* * *
Melissa
Heat. I’ve been warned about the oppressive New Orleans heat. I’ve heard stories about how on his first visit to the Crescent City, Sir Paul McCartney went for a jog and thought he was having a heart attack, drowning in the heavy air.
Now, pressed against the damp, cool wall of Pirate’s Alley, my eyes flutter closed from the heat radiating between my thighs.
This gorgeous man wants me. He’s the last sensual escapes I might ever have, and damn if I’m not taking it.
I moan at the velvet of his lips followed by the scruff of his beard against my skin. All of my senses are heightened, my nipples hard and tingling.
He lifts me as if I weigh no more than a doll, and I luxuriate in his strength, the width of his shoulders, the way he dwarfs me with his enormous frame.
For a moment, my eyes drift open. The full moon shines enormously white over our heads, casting everything in a pale-bluish hue. Smaller orbs, the ancient streetlamps line the cobbled streets, making rainbow reflections in the puddles.
It’s possible these sights are only vibrant in my eyes, but I don’t have time to follow that train of thought. Derek catches my chin, pulling my attention back to him.
He covers my mouth with his, forcing my lips apart roughly. Our tongues collide, and I can’t help another moan. His virility floods my veins like a drug, so seductive. He’s a decadent indulgence, and a dangerous one. He tastes like champagne and mint, and something deeper, meaty and masculine at its core.
My blood races beneath my skin. Desire burns between my thighs, and as badly as I want to fuck him, I want to taste him. I want to drink him in and feel him inside me beating with my heart.
He unzips the back of my dress, and the straps fall down around my elbows. Reaching around behind me, I unfasten my bra. A hungry groan rumbles from his throat, and my breasts strain for his rough touch. I’m dripping wet. I’ve never felt so wanted, so craved.
We’re secluded from the main street. No one can see us. It’s possible we could be heard, but it would take some searching to find us.
Now. The word thrums in my ears like an ominous drum. Now is your time.
Shoving the voice from my mind, I focus on the moment. Lips brush my nipples, teeth pull them into pebbles. This incredibly gorgeous man is feasting on my breasts.
Feast.
“Take off your shirt,” I order in a hoarse whisper I don’t even recognize.
He lowers me briefly and whips the thin, navy sweater over his head, revealing a lined torso, olive skin dusted lightly with hair.
Oh, god. My mouth waters, and my gums ache. He’s so beautiful. He’s the sexiest man I’ve seen in my life.
Take him.
His eyes darken as he watches me appreciate his body, and I see the tent in his designer slacks grow. Energy floods my core, surging through my pelvis. I can smell the strong, healthy blood in his veins.
Take him.
“Café au lait,” I murmur, sliding a finger across his chest. “Delicious.”
In a sweep, I’m off my feet again. My legs are back around his waist, my back pressed against the cool, damp wall. I pull him closer. I want all of him touching me.
The light hairs on his chest tease my breasts. “Oh, yes,” I sigh.
“I’m clean, but I’ll use protection,” he grinds out, shifting me so he can retrieve a condom. I hear the metallic clink of his belt buckle, and I don’t bother telling him it doesn’t matter.
Two thick digits plunge