Boudreaux 01 Easy Love (17 page)

I lean in and tuck her hair behind her ear, then drag my nose over the apple of her cheek to her ear and plant a kiss there, making her shiver.

“Walks around the Quarter?”

“No.” She sighs as I nibble down her neck, then back up again and kiss the tip of her nose.

“Pizza on the balcony?”

“Now who’s playing dumb?”

“I want to hear the words.”

“You always want to hear the words.” Her hands grip onto my T-shirt. I love that I can turn her on so easily. She’s so fucking responsive.

I grin wickedly and kiss her forehead, and then it occurs to me: My life has been in black and white for the past two years, and the minute she walked through my office door, everything was in blazing color.

I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.
 

Except enjoy her, for every moment she’s here.

“What is the stuff that we do?” I ask again.

“The sex stuff.”

“You can do better than that.”

“Do you have any idea how many Hail Marys I’m going to have to say because of you?” she demands.

“A lot,” I reply with a laugh. “I haven’t seen you go to church while you’ve been here.”

“I only go when I’m visiting my parents.” She shrugs one slender shoulder. “Okay, I’ll make it clear. While you’re fucking me, you don’t fuck anyone else.”

Fuck
.

I have to swallow hard as I stare down at her determined green eyes. Fuck someone else? I can’t think of anyone else.

“And you can’t fall in love with me,” she adds primly.

“I can’t?”

“No. No love. Just friends, and laughs, and…stuff.”

I narrow my eyes.

“And sex. I’m not saying the other word again today.”

I watch her for a long moment, then tug her into my lap, cup her face in my hands, and kiss the fuck out of her. “You’re all I see, Kate. I don’t give a shit about other women. So you don’t have to worry about me fucking anyone but you for as long as you’re here.”

“And no love.”

Why does that statement make my heart hurt?
 

“I don’t do love,
cher
.”

“Me neither.”

Liar.

“But one other thing,” I say, my lips against hers.

“What?”

“You’re going to say fuck again today. You’re going to say it a lot.”

“Why does that turn you on?” She giggles and sinks her fingers into the hair on the back of my head.

“Because hearing those dirty words come out of your pretty mouth makes me hard.” I kiss her, long and deep, then pull away when we’re both gasping for breath. “Jesus, everything you do makes me hard.”

“Maybe it’s just been a while since you got laid.”

That’s what I thought too.

“No, it’s you. It’s just you.”

Chapter Twelve

Kate

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Mama’s for dinner?” Gabby asks us as she gathers her handbag and car keys and settles Sam’s baseball cap on his head.
 

“We’ll be fine here,” Eli replies with a grin, sips his sweet tea, and keeps his sexy, naughty eyes on me. “I’ll show Kate around.”

“I thought you showed her around yesterday,” Gabby replies dryly. Eli simply shrugs one shoulder and takes another sip of his tea, watching me. God, he’s potent. He showed me around yesterday, all right. Around his body, and mine, and I’m pretty sure he discovered erogenous zones that I didn’t even know I had.

And muscles. I’m sore today.
Sore.
My inner thigh muscles are singing. How does that happen?

“How is it that you don’t have any guests tonight?” I ask.

“I always have an empty inn on Sunday nights. That gives me time to catch up on laundry and cooking for the upcoming week, and I can get away to Mama’s for dinner.”

“Convenient for me,” Eli says, and laughs when Gabby glares at him.
 

“You’re my brother.”

“That’s the rumor,” he says with a smile.

“No, you are,” Sam adds solemnly. “Nannan says so. Plus, you look alike. I don’t have any brothers.”

“No, you don’t,” Gabby says with a laugh.

“I want some, though,” Sam adds.

“Let’s go.” Gabby sighs and shakes her head. “Clean up your own messes, big brother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies in that slow, sexy accent that never fails to make me weak in the knees, and the grin spreads over his face when Gabby’s engine starts and drives down the driveway. “Alone at last.”

“We’re alone quite often,” I remind him.

“Mm,” he replies, leaning his hands on the kitchen island, just staring at me with that smirk on his face as I lean on the breakfast bar opposite him.
 

“Are you going to just…do me here on the counter?”

“
Do
you?” He tilts his head back and forth, as if he’s considering it. “Probably. But first, I’m going to cook for you.”

“Cook for me.” It isn’t a question. “You cook.”

“I cook just fine, thank you very much.” He cocks a brow.
 

I bet he does. He does everything very well.

“And what are you going to cook?”

“You’ll see.” He turns to the fridge and begins gathering supplies, moving about the kitchen as if he’s perfectly comfortable here. Which kind of throws me, because let’s face it, watching the uber successful billionaire businessman, who admits to being a workaholic, work in the kitchen like it’s second nature is…
hot.

“Where did you learn to cook?”

He chooses a knife from the butcher block and begins chopping up an onion.
 

“Mama taught us all to cook.”
 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just look gorgeous and keep me company.”

“Charming,” I reply with a sigh. He’s in another black T-shirt and blue jeans, which I think is unusual for him, but look amazing on him.
 
His forearms flex and bunch as he chops. Just like they bunch when he’s over me, gripping onto the mattress as he thrusts in and out of me. His whole body gets tight. And this man isn’t short on muscles.

I want to lick him.

“Kate?”

“Huh?” I blink rapidly and try to focus. “What did you say?”

He sets the knife on the cutting board and smiles. “What were you just thinking about?”

My first reaction is to say
nothing
, but instead I walk very slowly around the island toward him. “I was thinking about licking you.”

He leans his hips against the island and crosses his arms, making his biceps flex, and just like that, I want to tear his clothes off.

“Is that right?”

I nod.

“Where would you like to lick me?”

I grin and drag a fingertip down his neck. “Right here.”

He swallows hard, making me even wetter. I love turning him on.
 

“You’re distracting me,” he says evenly, and it would bruise my ego if his eyes hadn’t just dilated and the pulse in his neck sped up.

“I think that’s the point.”

He shakes his head and returns to chopping. “I’m cooking dinner.”

“I don’t particularly give a crap about dinner.”

He smiles, like he always does when I don’t use the usual curse words, but doesn’t look me in the eye.

“You’ll give a shit later,
cher.
You’ll need the energy for what I have planned.”

“That sounds fun.” I cup his very firm, stellar ass in my hand and kiss his bicep. “Let’s skip to that part.”

He laughs, turns and lifts me into his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist, and kisses me mindless, until I can’t think; I can’t even feel my fingertips.

But I can sure as heck feel the pulsing between my legs.

The next thing I know, he sets me on the counter top, plants a smacking kiss on my lips and backs away, returning to the cutting board just a few feet away.

“Stay.”

I stick my lower lip out in a pout and bat my eyes at him, but he just reaches over and smooths the pad of his thumb over my lip, drags his knuckles down my cheek, and whispers, “Trust me. Let me feed you. Let me pamper you a bit. I like it.”

Well, how in the heck am I supposed to say no to that?

“Can I snack while you cook?” I ask, as he chops through celery surprisingly quickly.

“Sure.” He passes me a celery stalk. “Wine?”

“Always.”

He pours us each a glass of white, we clink our glasses together, and take a sip before he resumes chopping and I munch my celery.

“You feed me a lot.”
 

“You’re a good eater.”

I pause with the celery halfway to my mouth and frown at him.
 

“What are you implying?”

“That you eat well?” He asks with a shrug.

I glance down at my small-ish chest and flat-ish stomach and then back at him. “Am I fat?”

He busts out laughing, not breaking his stride in his chopping.
 

“No, Kate. You’re not fat. You enjoy food. And in doing so, I enjoy watching you eat. I’d feed you every meal every day if I could.”

Oh.

“Can I have more celery?”

He grins, passes me the celery, and kisses me soundly before pulling away to get back to work.
 

Sitting here, watching him cook, is not a hardship in the least.
 

***

Dinner was delicious. Eli is just one big surprise after another. It’s amazing to me how
normal
he is. The whole family, really, and it shouldn’t, because I’ve been so close to Van and Dec for so many years, but this family is rich beyond my wildest dreams, yet they’re as grounded and down to earth as anyone else. There aren’t servants bustling about. Their cars are new and expensive, but no Aston Martin.
 

And on a Sunday afternoon, I’m lying on the couch with this powerful man, who has the ear of governors and high-powered people, who runs a multi-billion dollar enterprise with ease and efficiency.

He’s snuggling me, on his back, with me lying on his chest, watching some stupid movie on cable, while his fingertips glide up and down my bare arm, my shoulder, my neck and into my hair and back down again.

If I could purr, I so would right now.

“We have the whole house to ourselves, and you want to watch a movie?” I ask lazily. He plants his lips on my head, takes a deep breath, and hugs me tight before his fingers resume their trek over my skin.

“Is there something else you’d rather do?”

“Well…” I grin and kiss his heart, over his T-shirt, breathing him in. He smells good. Clean. A little citrusy. I shift my pelvis over his and feel him start to harden, and his fingers still on my shoulder. “Yes.”

His fingers sink into my hair as I kiss down his torso, lifting his shirt as I go, and plant wet kisses over his flat, chiseled abdomen. His breathing speeds up, but he’s quiet; the only sounds are the TV and my lips smacking on his smooth, warm skin.
 

I could kiss his stomach all day long.
 

His T-shirt slips back down, and I frown up at him. “Can we dispose of this, please?”

He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it on the floor, and shuts the TV off before lying back down. “Better?”

“Hmm.” I push up to kiss his lips, tug on the lower lip with my teeth, then work my way down his throat, chest, and back to his stomach, enjoying the ridges of the muscles there. “I thought the six-pack was a myth. Or the work of Photoshop.”

“Not if you work your ass off for it,” he replies. His breath hitches when my tongue finds the groove of that V in his hips and trace it down to where it disappears into his jeans. I make quick work of the button and zipper, and smile when I see he’s not wearing underwear.

Convenient.

His erection springs free into my hand, and I immediately grip it and pump it twice. Eli tosses his head back and groans, then turns his hot eyes back on me as I slowly lick from his scrotum to the tip in one long, fluid motion and rub the underside of the head on the flat of my tongue before taking him in my mouth and sucking, not too hard, but enough to get his attention.

And by the way his hand tightens in my hair, right at the scalp, where it feels so darn good when he pulls, I’ve got his attention.

“Fuck, that feels good.”
 

I take him deeper, until the head is at the back of my throat, and I swallow, massaging him, loving the way it seems to grow even bigger in my mouth, firm my lips and pull up, lick the head, and repeat the motion.

“Look at me.”

My eyes find his. They’re hot, narrowed just a bit. His mouth is open as he pants. The hand not gripping my hair is behind his head, and his whole body is heaving.