by Meghan March
He pulled the sheet away, leaving me naked again. “Like you better this way.” He sat on the bed and cupped the side of my face in his big hand. “Dinner tonight?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”
“Wear a dress. A short one.” My jaw dropped. He said what?
“Seriously? You did not just say that.”
“Oh, but I did.”
I huffed, tugging the sheet from his grip. “Have you ever seen me wear a dress? Let alone a short one?”
He leaned in and brushed his lips over the shell of my ear. “I’m going to see it tonight.”
“Cocky bastard,” I said, shivering from the contact.
“If it gets you into a dress, I’ll be whatever kind of bastard you want me to be.”
I won the sheet tug-of-war and tucked it around me before crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe. No promises.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. Short dress. High heels. The same wild, just-been-fucked hair you’ve got going on right now. That’s how I’m going to be picturing you all day while I sort this shit out.”
I bit my lip and shook my head at him. “You’re crazy.”
“Only about you.” His lips met mine for one more kiss. This one was long, slow, and full of promise of what was to come. Finally, he pulled away. “See you later, babe.”
He left the room, and I heard the door to my apartment open and close. I uncrossed my arms and pressed a palm against either side of my face and rubbed upward. I was in way too deep. I leaned over to snag a T-shirt from the floor and pulled it on. It was one of mine, but I wished it were Simon’s. I wanted his woodsy scent surrounding me.
Apparently I now had two tasks for the day: first, flex my code-breaking muscles; and second, find a damn dress.
I stripped off the dress and threw it on the bed.
“I can’t do this,” I said to the empty room. I wished Huck were pacing around my tiny apartment so I didn’t feel like I was talking to myself. But he was downstairs in his crate in Harriet’s guestroom. I’d spent most of the day down there with him, the composition book, and a stack of library books. I’d officially made zero progress. I’d started cycling though the alphabet in the hopes that it was a basic substitution cipher, but it was a painstaking process.
And while my code cracking was going horribly, at least Huck was doing amazingly well. Dr. Richelieu hadn’t lied about the plate in his leg easing his recovery. He might’ve looked a bit like a hobbled horse when he padded around with his weight unequally distributed, but I was so damn glad to see him on the mend.
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. 6:49. I paced my room, took a deep breath, and exhaled. Calm, I thought. You can do this.
“I can’t do this.” I flopped onto my bed beside the dress and stared out the skylight to the blue and white expanse above. My thoughts wandered back to this morning. Lying on the bed, watching Simon as he stared me down with desire … and something else. I’d never wanted anyone more, and I’d never deserved anyone less. Was I going to humor his simple—albeit caveman-like—request?
What if he took me to some fancy Michelin Star restaurant? With the impression I’d given him so far, Simon would probably think my nerves stemmed from not knowing which fork to use. Little did he know that if I was so inclined, I could out-etiquette him any day. The girl who used to dine regularly at Per Se might’ve been buried, but she was still in there. Somewhere. But letting any hint of her out could put everything I’d built at risk. As it stood, my life might not be much, but it was mine. I looked over at the mini-dress and fingered the deep purple cotton voile. I pictured myself wearing it, walking hand-in-hand through the streets with Simon. I wanted that.
The rationalizations started to filter in: we weren’t in New York or L.A., Simon wasn’t a celebrity followed by the paparazzi, and unless he was at a public event, it was unlikely that his presence would attract attention.
“I can do this.”
I adjusted my strapless bra and matching black, lacy boy shorts and slipped on the dress. My hair hung in huge spiral curls I’d spent the last hour perfecting. Not that I would admit that little detail. I added dangling black and silver chain earrings that almost brushed my shoulders. They gave the outfit just enough ‘Charlie’ flare to make it acceptable. I slipped on a pair of vintage red leather peep-toe platforms Yve had let me borrow out of the inventory at the Dirty Dog and fastened the straps around my ankles. A check in the mirror, another dab of red lip stain, and I was ready. Which was damn good timing on my part because the intercom—which I’d reconnected—buzzed.
I crossed the room and pushed the button. “I’ll be right down.”
“Can’t wait, babe.”
Simon let out a wolf whistle as I strode, hips swinging, toward the gate. If I was going to wear this outfit, I was going to own it.
“Dayum, woman.” He slapped a hand over his chest. His white linen shirt was light and airy, and his slacks were much more casual than I’d anticipated. “Step out here so I can see you.” Simon moved away as I walked out onto the sidewalk. I spun, giving it a little extra oomph, and the skirt of my dress flared. When I stopped my impromptu twirl, I couldn’t hold back a ridiculous giggle as I smiled up at Simon.
I expected to see his answering grin, but his expression was serious, almost … solemn. I looked down at my dress. “What?” I asked, confused the abrupt change in his mood.
He shook his head and reached out a hand to trail a finger down my jaw line. “That. That right there. I want to put that smile on your face every day, for as long as you’ll let me.”
I sucked in a breath and leaned in to his touch. My first instinct was to make some smartass remark to defuse the emotions bubbling up inside me. They were on the verge of spilling out onto the cracked sidewalk at Simon’s feet. But I held them down and focused on soaking up this moment. I gift wrapped it and tucked it deep inside so I could take it out later and relive it.
Relive it after I lost him.
Because reality was scraping away at the happiness I was just discovering. The more time I spent studying that damn composition book—the book of lies and ruin—the more I accepted the fact I’d never make it out of this unscathed. I was naïve to think I could escape my past. Losing Simon would be my penance. And when that happened, memories of moments like this would be all I had left.
I opened my eyes, determined to live in the now and not worry about the future. At least not for tonight.
I pulled myself together and asked, “So, where to?”
“You want me to answer that question when all I can think is ‘This woman is a goddess, and I can’t believe I’m the lucky bastard who gets to take her out’?”
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “You’re all charm tonight, Mr. Duchesne.”
“Honey, I’ll be whatever you want me to be tonight.”
This time I trailed my finger down his freshly shaven cheek. “How about just a guy showing his girl a good time.”
“Done.” He offered his arm, and I took it.
The sun was setting, and I was confused as hell. Simon waved to a guy at a security checkpoint, and we cruised into a large lot surrounded by barbed wire fences. Hundreds, or maybe thousands, of shipping containers—gray, black, tan, red, orange, and blue—were stacked in rows and awaiting transport to their destinations.
“Where the hell are we?”
“Patience.”
Simon drove until we reached a seawall holding back the mighty Mississippi and parked in front of a barge. It was secured to the wall with ropes thicker than my arm. Except for a small section toward one end, it was completely covered with shipping containers. I scanned the empty space for a table and chairs. Candles. Champagne on ice. The kind of setup that I expected a guy like Simon to pull together, especially after he ordered me to wear a short dress and high heels. But there was none of that.
Simon climbed out of the car and was opening my door before I could gather my wits to do it myself. He help
ed me out onto the asphalt.
“Wait here.”
He popped the tailgate and retrieved a blanket and a large soft-sided cooler.
My scattered thoughts regrouped, and I realized what he had planned. “A picnic?”
“Yup. Just you and me and the river.” I was dumbstruck as he took my hand, led me over the ramp, and onto the barge.
I grabbed a corner, and we spread the thick stadium blanket out over the scarred and rusted steel of the deck. Simon helped me sit before kneeling on the blanket beside me. From the cooler, he produced round aluminum take out containers with inset cardboard lids and a six-pack of Abita.
I shook my head. He never did what I expected.
“Do you do this on purpose?”
He looked up from uncurling the aluminum edges of a container. “Do what?”
“The exact opposite of what I expect?”
He grinned and continued, revealing olives, two different kinds of hummus, flatbread, wedges of red and green pepper, slices of cold, rare tenderloin, chunks of cheese, and grapes. “What do you mean?”
“This.” I gestured to my dress and the shoes I’d already unbuckled and tossed aside. “You told me to wear a dress. And heels. I expected a fancy restaurant or some trendy club. Not a barge and a picnic and beer.”
His grin faded. “Is that what you’d rather do?”
My eyes widened. “No! Not at all. This is … perfect. But … how did you know? I mean … hell, I don’t know what I mean.”
His smile reappeared, dimples flashing. “You don’t give me much to go on, Charlie. I just have to guess. But I like surprising you. You get this look, like you can’t believe I’d go out of my way to do something special for you. I get the feeling you haven’t had enough special in your life. And the dress … well, I just wanted a chance to stare at those gorgeous legs of yours.” He shrugged, as if to say I’m a guy, deal with it.
I reflected on his words for a moment. My life had been ruthlessly organized, everything handed to me before I could even think to ask for it. But that was just it. I hadn’t asked for any of it. Not the designer clothes or the riding lessons or the schedule cluttered with suitable social engagements. I’d been given, and had done, whatever my parents had deemed appropriate for me. And I had to wonder if they had given those choices remotely as much thought as Simon had in planning this picnic.
I reached for an olive and popped it into my mouth. “How come some smart Southern belle hasn’t snapped you up already?”
He smirked. “I’m trying to get a sassy Yankee to, but she’s not catching on as quickly as I’d hoped. I’m starting to wonder if she’s not as smart as I thought.”
I threw an olive at his head, and he caught it in his mouth. He popped the tops off two beers and handed one to me. He held his out, the neck of the bottle angled toward me.
“To an unexpected night,” he said. I clinked my bottle with his and nabbed a slice of tenderloin.
I chewed and swallowed it. “Holy crap, that’s good. Where did all of this come from?”
“My kitchen.”
I was glad I wasn’t still chewing because I would’ve choked. “Are you serious? You cook too?”
“I’d say yes just to keep that look on your face, but it’d mostly be a lie. My parents’ housekeeper is jetting off on a two-week vacation tomorrow and asked if there was anything she could do for me before she left. I shamelessly begged her for help.”
He reached for a piece of flatbread and scooped up some hummus. I pressed a hand to my chest and made a poor attempt at a Southern drawl. “Well, thank the Lord for that; I almost swooned.”
I took a swig of my beer as he finished chewing. “Oh, you’ll swoon, I have no doubt. After all, I am devastatingly charming.”
We lingered over the food and talked about everything and yet nothing of substance. I loved that he didn’t push for more than I was willing to give, but I wondered if it would always be that way or if at some point he would lose his patience with me and demand answers. But I didn’t want to think about that right now. Not on such a perfect night.
We’d just popped the tops off the last two beers as fireworks burst over the river. I jumped at the thunderous percussion, and Simon pulled me against him. I followed him down until we lay side by side on the blanket, staring up at the exploding blues and reds and glittering whites against the cloud-covered night sky. This was one more thing I loved about New Orleans. You never knew when there’d be fireworks. The masses of partiers would pause a moment from downing their Hurricanes and stare upward to enjoy the simple pleasure.
Simon threaded his fingers through mine as vibrant colors continued to flare across the sky and the acrid scent of black powder hung in the air. He toyed with my fingers, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss each one. He moved on to my palm and nipped the base with his teeth.
I knew exactly how this picnic was going to end.
I started to sit up as Charlie rolled and threw her leg over my hips. She pinned me, hair blowing in the river breeze, and shoved me back down. Her face was cast in shadows, but I could still make out her determined expression.
“Nope. You’re not going anywhere.”
I reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “That so?”
“Yep.” The word popped from her lips. “You’re going to pay up on all this teasing hand crap.”
I chuckled. I loved her no-bullshit, straight-to-the-point attitude. It was something that was lacking in all other aspects of my life. “Teasing hand crap, is that what that was?”
She shifted against me, and her dress inched up her thighs. “Call it whatever you want, the consequences are still the same.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“I’d rather show.”
“Even better.”
She reached down to the skirt of her dress and began pulling it upward. I was riveted, waiting for all that gorgeous skin to be uncovered, when she paused.
“What? What’s wrong?” I looked around, wondering if she’d spotted someone. But that wasn’t the cause of her hesitation.
“Why do I feel like I’m always stripping my clothes off in front of you?”
I bit my lip to hold back a grin. “I don’t know, but you will never hear me complain about you getting naked for me.”
“You didn’t seem to have a hard time walking away from me that night … in the pool. I distinctly recall being very, very naked.”
I cupped her chin, pulling her face down to mine. “What you don’t seem to get, is that even then, I was playing the long game. I knew you were something special, and I wasn’t going to take the chance that I’d only get a taste. I knew that once I did, I’d be addicted. That I’d have to have more. I needed you to be as off balance as I was.” I kissed the corner of her mouth. “And it worked.”
She shoved away from me. “You’re such a smug bastard.” She drew her dress up over her head and let it flutter to the blanket beside us. “Why don’t you put that tongue to good use?”
My heart hammered as I took her in. Again, I wished for more light, because I wanted to see her, memorize her. She was my addiction. I just hoped she wouldn’t be lethal. Regardless, I was in too deep to pull back.
She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to my chest. She scooted toward my knees and undid my belt buckle and the button and zipper of my slacks. When she shifted, I expected her to pull them off so I’d be as naked as she was, but she only tugged off her panties and resettled herself on top of me. She slipped her hand into my boxer briefs and palmed my dick before pulling it free.
“Are you clean? Because I got tested. I’m good. And I’m protected.”
I skimmed my hands from her shoulders down her arms. “I’m clean. But are you sure? We don’t have to—”
She didn’t wait for my response; she was already sliding the hot, wet heat of her pussy along my length and then lifting up and angling the head toward her entrance. My words died in my throat as she sa
nk down on me, arching her back and thrusting her breasts outward. With nothing between us, the searing heat and tight clasp of her body sent spikes of sensation straight to my balls.
“Jesus. Charlie—”
“I know.” Her words were a breathy moan as she started to ride me. I cupped her ass in both hands, helping her to set a pace that was sure to demolish us both before we were ready. The clouds that had obscured the moon finally drifted away and in the silver light, I watched her take me with pure, unapologetic abandon. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Knowing that I wouldn’t last nearly long enough to call myself a man, I trailed my hand around her waist and thumbed her clit. She moaned and pressed into me, seeking the pressure I offered. She cupped her breasts, tugging at her nipple rings as she flexed her hips and increased her frenetic pace. I attempted to distract myself by promising that one of these days, I’d have her on top of me and force her to go slow and savor the moment. It was a failure as a distraction. It just ramped me up more. Sparks zinged down my spine as my orgasm barreled down on me. Charlie threw her head back and moaned as her body clamped down on me over and over. “Oh shit—I can’t—I’m gonna—” Her words were harsh whispers lost in the night.
She slowed, unable to keep up her own rhythm as the climax gripped her. I clutched her hip with one hand and wrapped my other arm around her back. I pulled her down to me. Engulfed in Charlie, I finally let go.
I laid atop Simon for what felt like hours, but what was in reality probably only minutes. I never wanted to move again. Clouds had covered the moon, and I focused on matching my breathing to Simon’s.
A spotlight cutting through the darkness interrupted our afterglow.
“Fuck,” Simon whispered, throwing a corner of the blanket over me.
“Time to go?” I asked.
“Unfortunately.”
The unfortunate thing was the fact that I had to pull myself away from Simon’s fabulous, orgasm factory of a cock. Remembering that we’d gone bare, I felt around for a napkin to clean up the mess. The bouncing spotlight was moving closer, so I hurried into my dress and grabbed my bra and panties. Simon tossed the remains of our picnic into the cooler and bundled up the blanket. I snagged my shoes, opting to leave them off.