With Me in Seattle Bundle One (97 page)

His face is fierce, and I know he won’t bend on this.

“Okay.”

“So, what’s her deal?” he asks as he takes my hand in his and leads me back in the direction we were heading.

“She’s a junkie, and she thinks I owe her.”

“Why in the hell would you owe her anything?”

“Because she gave birth to me.” I shrug and try to think of something else to talk about. “You know, I’m not wearing any underwear.” Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Yeah, we’ll get to that. Why do you owe her, Meg?”

“Because after I was taken away from her, I told the cops that she did drugs and sold herself for money, and she was arrested and went to jail for a while, and she’s never let me forget that it’s my fault. She’s always been able to find me. Always. So, I give her the money each month, and it keeps her in Montana and away from me.”

“Fuck,” Will whispers.

“Look, it’s no biggie. It’s not a lot of money. I don’t need it.”

“That’s not the point. She’s a fucking bully, babe. Tell her to kiss your ass.”

“It’s just easier this way.” I shrug again and stop him when he tries to argue. “I don’t want to fight about her. She’s not worth any of our time.”

He takes a deep breath in frustration and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Fine.”

“Let’s go check out one of the above-ground cemeteries.” I bounce up and down in excitement, and he can’t help but laugh at me.

“What is it with you and the dead? And why am I just now learning this about you?”

“It’s N’awlins, Will. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

***

“Damn, you can pack away the food. Where do you put it all?” I ask as we enter our hotel suite—more accurately, the penthouse of an old, gorgeous hotel. The furnishings are grand and sturdy, and the tapestries are thick and old.

I feel like we’ve stepped back in time each time we walk into this vast room. It’s beautiful, and way more space than we need, but I know that Will wanted to make this week special.

And he has.

“Meg, as a football athlete, I have to consume almost four thousand calories a day to maintain enough energy to train the way we do.”

“All the time?” I ask, stunned.

“During the season. In the off-season, it’s closer to three thousand.”

“Holy shit,” I whisper and feel a little bad for constantly tormenting him about the volume of food he eats.

But then I look at him and remember how he laughs when I tease him, and I don’t feel bad anymore. Teasing him is fun.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he mutters and pulls me to him.

“I’ve seen that before, stud muffin.” I grin up at him and glide my hands up and down his chest as he throws his head back and laughs.

“Not that. Well, not yet, anyway. Come on.”

He leads me out of the room and to the elevator, but instead of pushing the button for the lobby, we go up to the roof. I look up at him in surprise, but he just smiles smugly down at me.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

The doors open to reveal a beautiful rooftop patio full of plush furniture, large, ornate gold planters boasting cut-leaf rhododendrons, Spanish moss falling down the ledges of the balcony, and the tops of banana trees stretching up from the courtyard below. We can see across to similar patios on similar hotels, although it’s small enough up here, and the foliage is lush enough, that it feels private.

White lights are strung overhead, lanterns lit on the side of the building and on tabletops, sending a soft glow over the space in the darkness of evening.

There is a sign that reads: Closed for Private Party
.

“Oh, we’re not supposed to be up here.” I try to pull him back to the elevator, but he chuckles and easily draws me back to his side.

“We are the private party, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” I smile ruefully as he leads me to a corner of the patio that has champagne chilling in a silver bucket and two silver plates covered with silver domes on a small table in front of a gorgeous red and gold couch.

“What’s all this?” I ask, my eyes wide, taking in this beautiful scene.

“Just dessert on the rooftop,” Will shrugs shyly, like it’s no big thing.

But it is a big thing.

“Thank you.” I raise on my tiptoes and kiss him. “It’s lovely.”

“You’re lovely. Here, have a seat.” He leads me to the couch and pours us each a flute of sparkling, gold champagne. “To spontaneous vacations.”

“I’ll drink to that.” We clink glasses and take a sip, Will’s blue eyes watching me over his flute.

“Did you have fun at the cemetery today?” I ask with a grin.

“It was interesting. Definitely a new experience.”

“I thought it was fun. I still think you should let me talk you into the ghost tour.”

“I can think of better things to do in the dark,” he replies with a half grin.

“Really? Like what?”

“Are you wearing any underwear under that dress?” he asks, instead of answering my question.

“You know I’m not.” I tilt my head and study him. “Why do you ask?”

“Just making sure.” He pours more of the bubbly 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. “Looks like crème brûlée.”

“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 tugs 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 my hand 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 comes, growling. The words, the pressure of his orgasm, what he’s doing to my body, send 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.

And I think it’s effing adorable to watch her eat beignets. Speaking of, I check the clock. I’m expecting a delivery in about ten minutes.

Meg stirs in her sleep, raises one arm up over her head, causing the sheet to slide down her body and expose one perfect breast, the nipple tight from being exposed to the cool air. Her beautiful auburn and blond hair is fanned around her on her white pillow, and one knee is bent, lying against the bed.

Which means I could slip my hand between her thighs and wake her with my fingers inside her, but I wait. I want to watch her for a few more minutes.

I knew that I’d fall in love eventually. That I’d end up meeting a nice girl, and we’d get married and have a few kids and a good life together.

But I had no idea that I could love someone so much that it absolutely consumes me. That being away from her for merely hours makes me want to punch someone and the thought of anyone ever hurting her in any way just makes me completely nuts.

I would kill for this woman.

Or die.

I wasn’t kidding when I said she’s everything. She is.

At the light knock on the door, I roll out of bed, pull on yesterday’s shorts and answer the door. I tip the delivery kid from Café Du Monde and carry the big bag of beignets and carrier of coffee to the bedside table, set them down, strip out of my shorts and climb back onto the bed.

She hasn’t moved a muscle.

My little lazy bones. Funny thing is, she’s the least-lazy person I’ve ever known. She works tirelessly and is always moving.

I love it when she’s moving beneath me.

With this in mind, I brace my elbow near her head and lean down to kiss her cheek.

“Megan, wake up,” I croon softly to her and brush little wisps of hair off her neck.

“Hmph,” she answers with a moan and turns away from me.

“C’mon, lazy bones, wake up.” I plant little kisses on her bare shoulder and upper arm and slide my hand over her stomach and up to her breast, cupping it in my hand while I worry the nipple between my fingers.

I can’t get enough of her soft skin.

“I’m sleepy,” she murmurs and turns toward me, burrowing against me and settling in to sleep with her forehead pressed to my chest.

Fuck, she’s adorable.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” she asks, not moving.

“Yep, but you have to wake up to get it.”

“I don’t want it.”

Stubborn woman.

“Okay.” I back away and open the bag of fresh, hot doughnuts, take one out and turn back to her. Her eyes are still closed.

I shake it over her shoulder, dropping powdered sugar on her skin, and lean down and lick it off.

“Mmm,” I groan. “Good stuff.”

No response.

So I shake some more over her neck and dive after it, lapping it up.

She opens one eye, briefly, then snaps it shut quickly. I grin and pull the sheet down to her waist, exposing her perfect little body, and shake more sugar over her breasts.

I lick it up and then take a big bite of the beignet. “Open your mouth,” I instruct her, and she complies readily. I chuckle as I feed her the remaining portion of the fried dough, then dive in the bag for another and continue to shake the sugar on her delectable body, then eat the beignet, sharing pieces with her.

“I think you’ll need to be my plate more often, babe. You make everything taste sweeter.”

“Cheeky bastard,” she mumbles sleepily, and I laugh out loud.

Grabbing a fresh doughnut, I move between her legs, shoulder her thighs wide apart and settle in for some fun.

Fuck, she’s already wet. Sleepy, my ass. She’s playing with me.

God, I love her.

I shake some sugar over her pussy and watch it fall like snow on her pink flesh. Her clit is hard, that silver piercing just begging for my tongue. So I lean forward and lick her, from her soft folds to that warm metal, and all around, licking up every last bit of sugar, then take a bite of doughnut. I look up at her face, and her eyes are open now, watching me, her gorgeous hazel gaze shining with lust, hands fisting the sheets. I offer her the doughnut, and she takes it from me and flings it over the side of the bed, licks her fingers and plunges them into my hair with a huge grin on her gorgeous face.

“Didn’t want anymore?” I ask with a grin.

“I’ve had enough of those.”