by Amanda Usen
Linda pointed at the top of the saucer. “Let’s review—big change.” She moved her finger down and to the right. “Storm.”
Betsy nodded, trying not to betray her agitation.
Linda gave the tea cup a swirl, making the leaves dance. “Love.”
“Enough with the love.” Her voice came out sharper than she’d intended. “What I’ve got going on right now is the opposite of love.”
Linda chuckled and pointed at the empty left half of the saucer.
“There’s nothing there.” What would Madame Rousseau make of that?
“Unusual, but not necessarily bad. Separation. Safeguarding. But you aren’t alone. Remember that when the storm hits.”
Not alone? Since when? It was up to her to be responsible.
The bell on the door rang and several people entered the shop. Linda squeezed her hand and then stood to greet them. She directed the crowd into a private room in the back and then turned to Betsy. “Stay as long as you like, and please come back soon. I enjoyed talking with you, and we should do this again soon. Maybe we’ll be able to see a little further out next time.”
“You’ve terrified me enough, thank you, but I’ll be back.” Betsy gestured at the chocolate crumbs on her plate. “I may have a new addiction. That cookie was exquisite. Come into the café, and I’ll see if I can hook you on my sandwiches.”
“I’d love that. I heard a rumor you’ve turned the muffaletta into a religious experience.”
“Really? Spread that rumor, will you?”
Linda gave her a brief hug that smelled like tea and chocolate. “I’ll tell everyone.”
Linda disappeared into the back, and Betsy left the shop, feeling as if she’d been spun as thoroughly as the leaves in the cup.
Chapter Seven
Betsy stared as Quin walked toward her. It was the first time she’d seen him in anything but a suit, and he was just as attractive in casual wear, maybe even more so. His blue T-shirt looked soft, and his jeans were well broken-in, fitting him like a second skin. He moved like he owned the restaurant, maybe even the Riverview hotel it sat in, or at least like he could buy it if he wanted it. He probably could. Even in jeans and a faded T-shirt, he looked like what he was—a man who ate businesses for breakfast and had women waiting for him in every city.
She felt a pang of jealousy, but squashed it. She was his New Orleans woman for the next two weeks, and she didn’t have to fight her desire for him anymore. In fact¸ she could enjoy it to the fullest. Her heart pounded, and a thrill shot through her. Her body tensed, bringing her upright in her chair at the bar just as he reached her side and kissed her cheek, giving her a good whiff of his warm fresh-from-the-shower skin. His hair was wet at the tips, curling slightly as it dried. She wanted to touch it, but her arm felt heavy, reluctant to betray her desire. You made a deal. He’s not going to eat your business. You have nothing to lose.
Reaching for him made her heart pound with anxiety. She brushed his hair with her fingertips.
His gaze caught hers, arrested, aware, and as hungry as she felt. A soft growl rumbled from his throat, and satisfaction poured through her in a honey-sweet slide, soothing her fear. She pressed her hand to the warm skin of his neck and felt his pulse beating against her palm. She dragged her hand over his shoulder and then his chest. His shirt was as soft as it looked, but his muscles were steel under her hand.
“You should have let me pick you up at your place. I could be kissing you right now.” He caressed her waist, and the desire to wrap her arms around him was overpowering. So she did. Their bodies curved together, aligning instantly, filling her with heavy contentment. She rested her head on his chest.
“I was afraid you might have changed your mind, and I’d have to convince you all over again.” His voice was a husky murmur.
She lifted her head. “You agreed to my terms. There’s no reason to deny myself the pleasure of touching you.”
“No reason at all.” His lips curved in the slow smile that made her burn. “Too bad you didn’t come to that realization a little earlier today.”
She eased out of his arms and gave him a rueful smile. “If I had, we’d have missed dinner, and you’re going to love the oysters here.” She’d picked Drago’s, home of the original charbroiled oyster, after seeing how much he’d enjoyed them on the half-shell last night.
“I thought you hated oysters.”
The tips of his fingers flirted with hers, and the small touches made her want to lead him right out of the restaurant and back to his hotel. “I don’t like raw oysters, but if you drown them in butter and garlic, and then roll them through the fires of hell, I’ll eat three dozen.”
“Sounds great. Is our table ready?”
She nodded, and he escorted her to the hostess station. When they reached their booth, he slid in beside her. Just sitting next to him, arm to arm and thigh to thigh, made her wet. Another pair of panties bites the dust.
She glanced down at his crotch and saw a telling bulge. “We’re a fine pair.”
His gaze touched her breasts. “Uh-huh.”
She laughed and swatted his arm with the back of her hand. When he caught it and placed it on his thigh, she couldn’t resist. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then slid her hand over his erection, squeezing lightly before she casually picked up her menu and opened it.
“Two can play that game, you know.”
His words made her squirm, and her pulse raced as he reached across her to point out something on her menu. His arm brushed her breast and his fingers swiftly flicked her stiffening nipple as he leaned back. Shock sent sparks to her clit.
He unrolled a napkin with a flourish and winked at her, settling it carefully over her lap and smoothing it into place. She felt his hand slide beneath her short denim skirt, and she nearly shot straight up into the air. She didn’t know whether to squeeze her thighs together to trap his hand or spread them. She did neither, trying not to draw attention to what he was doing. Her belly clenched uncontrollably as his fingers stroked her thighs, creeping closer to her throbbing center.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smile. “I love that you don’t wear a bra,” he said softly in her ear, drawing her attention back to her tingling nipples.
“Too hot.” And her small breasts didn’t really need one, but if she said that it would sound like she needed reassurance. Small was fine with her. His heavy gaze told her it was fine with him, too. His finger stroked her swelling clit, and she clenched her teeth on a groan, forcing herself to breath as normally as she could while fire melted her from the inside out.
By sheer force of will she remained upright, shielding his actions from the room with the oversized menu he was pretending to study over her shoulder. His finger fluttered against her, hitting the exact same spot over and over, a maddening, too-light, barely-there flicker that super-sensitized her clit. Intense pleasure made her limbs feel heavy and her skin tingle. Her heart raced with urgency. He couldn’t possibly intend to make her come. He was just teasing, right?
His finger flirted with the rim of elastic on her thigh, and every muscle in her body seized. There was no doubt in her mind what would happen if his finger dipped beneath the edge. God help me. If he slid his finger into her panties and touched her clit with his bare finger, she was going to come, right here, right now. Just the thought took her to the edge.
She throbbed, holding her breath, afraid one more touch would take her over.
“You kids know what you want to order?”
Betsy couldn’t have answered the server if her life depended on it. She looked helplessly at Quin, who ordered water for both of them, his hand motionless under her skirt. “Could you give us a couple more minutes to figure out what we want?” The server nodded, moving on to the next table.
Betsy took a gulping breath, and Quin chuckled, easing his hand away from her. She glared at him, almost wishing she had come. Just a little bit. The embarrassment might have been worth
getting rid of the tension that now made her feel desperate, slightly sick, and crabby as hell. “You’re an evil tease. We’ll be lucky if she comes back anytime in the next hour. This place is crazy busy tonight.”
“Putting that expression on your face would be worth waiting hours for dinner.”
“What expression is that?”
“Hungry. Are you ready to order now?”
“Yes.” She gave him a filthy glare that only made him laugh. He lifted his hand and the server appeared at the table less than a minute later. Of course she did. Women couldn’t resist him. Betsy forced a smile to her face and ordered charbroiled oysters for them both, even though she was certain she wasn’t going to be able to eat a bite, which was a damn shame. Charbroiled oysters were her favorite. She’d longed for them while she was at the Culinary Academy and had even tried to make her own version for Lila and Jenna. She’d never gotten them quite right and had been looking forward to eating at least a dozen of the rich treats tonight. She growled under her breath.
Quin nudged her leg. “Oh, settle down. You started it. At least you don’t have to walk across the room with a hard-on.”
“Where are you going?”
“The men’s room. Think there’s any chance our food will arrive while I’m gone, so we can eat and get the hell out of here?” He wasn’t smiling anymore. A muscle in his jaw jumped, and his nostrils flared. His visible tension mollified her. Slightly.
“Are you hungry, too?” she asked, not talking about food.
“Absolutely fucking starving.”
His savage expression sent a burst of heat through her, but she schooled her features into an expression of sympathy. After what he’d just done to her, she was going to enjoy this, despite her own frustration. “Oh, dear. That’s going to be a problem.”
“Why is that?”
“You wanted a tour of the city, so I booked one after dinner.” She batted her eyelashes. “The Midnight Special will take us through the French Quarter, an above-ground cemetery, and Bayou St. John. Then we’ll finish up along St. Charles, so we can appreciate some fine New Orleans architecture. Sound good?”
He looked appalled. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
She gave him a sweet smile and trailed her hand down his short sleeve. “Blue looks good on you—blue balls, that is. You know what they say…if you can’t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch. That will teach you to torture me in public.”
He snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind, God help me.”
When he left the table, she picked up her water glass and drained it. It didn’t quench the inferno inside her. Three unsatisfying encounters with him today made her ready to combust. The last thing she wanted to do after dinner was tour the city, but she’d called in a favor for the last-minute reservation. There was no way she could ditch. Visions of them having sex in a cemetery, then on the Bayou, and then riding the St. Charles streetcar paraded through her head, leaving her breathless. It had all been done, she was sure, but not by her, and she didn’t have any favors she could call in if they got arrested.
As she watched Quin walk back toward their table, the devilish light in his eyes tempted her to risk it.
…
Quin took Betsy’s hand as their guide deposited them in front of the Keystone. Their private tour had given him no opportunity to continue what he’d started at the restaurant unless he wanted to turn it into a threesome. He hadn’t been able to do anything but hold her hand and occasionally put his arm around her, and she’d tormented him all night, sliding her fingers against his, snuggling closer, smiling up at him like there was no other place she’d rather be. He was losing his mind waiting for Betsy to finish saying good-bye to their guide.
He thrust a few bills into the guy’s hand. “Amazing tour—thanks.”
They’d tramped over what felt like half of the city, and he’d learned more about New Orleans history than he’d ever wanted to know. His nightmares had plenty of fuel now. He wrapped his arm around Betsy and hauled her into the hotel.
“That was rude.” But she was grinning, making him wonder if she’d been dragging out the good-bye on purpose just to torture him some more. If so, she was in so much trouble. He waved at the front-desk clerk and guided her toward the elevator.
“How much did you give him?” Betsy asked, looking over her shoulder out the front window where their guide was staring after them.
“I have no idea. I only have hundreds in my wallet. Two, maybe three? Not enough?”
“More than enough. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t follow us thinking you made a mistake.”
“He better not.” He punched the button and steered her into the elevator, hitting their floor and taking her straight to the wall. “Tell me after all that roaming around you haven’t forgotten how I want to end our night.”
Her eyes were paler than he’d ever seen them, lit from the inside, all smoke and fire, telling him she hadn’t forgotten. “You want to be inside me,” she said.
“I do.” He licked into her mouth.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. He hauled her into the air, still kissing her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He pressed her against the wall again. The doors shut. Her lips tasted of the souvenir candy the tour guide had given them, but the feel of her embrace was even sweeter. She wiggled closer, perfecting their fit. Her skirt bunched around her hips, and the only thing separating them was her panties and his jeans. The need to get inside her pounded in his blood so hard, taking her against the wall seemed logical, but if the elevator got called to the lobby, they’d be interrupted. One more cock-block today would kill him.
He stabbed the control panel with a desperate finger. When the doors opened, he carried her down the hall. With every step, she ground against him. “I hope you aren’t looking for a slow ride, sweetheart. I’ve been hard for you for hours, and I am about to lose my fucking mind. It’s gonna be fast.”
She clutched him tighter. “Hell yes.”
Somehow, he found the right door, fumbled his key card out of his pocket, and got them inside. He kicked the door shut, locked it, and headed for the bedroom, dropping her on the bed and yanking his shirt over his head. By the time he stripped, she was naked, and his fingers shook with impatience as he rolled on a condom. He climbed onto the bed and settled himself between her bent knees, grasping the base of his cock and dragging it across her slick entrance. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
His vision went dim as he sank to the hilt, catching his weight on his forearms. The warm clasp of her body sent shivers through him, and he buried his face in her neck and held on, luxuriating in mind-numbing ecstasy. Utter heaven. Pure hot bliss.
As he slowly rubbed against her, he changed his mind. There was no fucking way he was going to do this fast and hard. He was going to make it last as long as possible. Her hips shifted restlessly beneath his, seeking movement, and she clutched his back in unmistakable hurry-the-hell-up motions.
He smiled against her neck. “Sorry, but this is too good to rush.” He lifted up so he could watch her expression and slowly withdrew until his head nearly left her. They both gasped as he slid back inside, a half-inch at a time. Her eyes drifted shut. “Uh-uh. Eyes open.”
There was hesitation in her gaze, and he wanted to erase it. They’d been together all night, building the fire between them with light touches and casual contact, and he burned for her. Sexual pleasure was one thing, but what gripped him right now was something else entirely, terrifying and arousing. He needed her to feel it, too. “I thought I wanted to have an orgasm. God knows I want you.” He pulled back again, seeking her clit with his tip, stroking outside her body. Color rose in her cheeks. She dragged her teeth across her lower lip, arching her back, but not breaking their gaze. She looked luminous, needy, and so fucking sexy his balls drew tight, and his cock jerked against her. He tilted his hips and sank into her again. “But I think I just needed to be inside you. I feel so
much better now.”
She whimpered, and he bent to taste the sound of her need. Their kiss was slow, tongues dancing in languorous strokes, moving in rhythm with his hips. He pressed a trail of kisses over her cheek until he reached her ear. “When our bodies slide together, you get hotter, wetter, and when you clench around me, I know I’m in exactly the right place.” She gasped, muscles tightening. He stared into her eyes and stroked inside her again. Her walls fluttered, and she softened, taking him deeper.
He groaned. “Oh, sweetheart, that feels amazing.” He pressed her knees wide with his thighs, unable to keep from driving inside her for a couple of hard, fast thrusts. Her moan brought him back to his task, and he slowed. She was panting now, gaze locked on his. The desperate plea in her eyes made him move even slower.
“Please,” she breathed. “I can’t take it anymore.”
He shook his head. He sought to drive her up, not with force, but with desire. Was that possible? She’d reached for his hand tonight as many times as he’d reached for hers. Usually when women clung to him, he ended it, but Betsy’s touch made him want more. He didn’t want to make her climax this time; he wanted her to give it to him, freely, wholeheartedly.
The air between them grew heavy. She grew tighter or maybe he swelled. Her sweet, warm breath on his lips made his mouth water, and every beat of her heart made his pound faster. She throbbed around him, and he echoed her pulse, feeling her everywhere. The moment stretched, the connection between them growing stronger. He held his breath, seeing raw need in her gaze, erotic and painfully intimate. He stopped moving entirely, transfixed.
With a low cry, she broke, drawing him deeper. Heat rolled up his spine. Exquisite, excruciating pleasure flowed through him, intensifying with every second, but he held himself in check, not wanting to come yet. He thrust slowly, coasting in and out of her while she gasped and moaned.