Levi's Blue: A Sexy Southern Romance

by M. Leighton

  “No, no. I should be apologizing to you. I don’t know what’s gotten into my daughter.” He gives Julianne a scathing look.

  “I was just kidding,” Julianne defends. “Can’t anyone take a joke?”

  I cut her off at the knees, my tone brooking no further comment.

  “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  “You can’t just leave, Levi.”

  “Watch me.”

  “It was such a pleasure to meet you both,” Evie says as we start off. I’m sure I’m the only one who hears her whisper as we walk away, “Asshole.”

  By the time we reach the front of the restaurant, Evie is practically pushing me out the door. I hear her loud exhale the instant we step out into the humid evening.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I don’t even know what else to say.”

  “Wow. Your friends are just … wow.”

  “Our fathers know each other. She’s not the kind of woman I actually enjoy being around.”

  “Then why be around her? She is the one you were with at the show, right?”

  “She’s…we’ve been…our relationship is complicated yet also very uncomplicated. She knows me. I know her. We get together sometimes when I’m in town. She knows where she stands with me, where we stand, and she’s okay with that.”

  “You use her for sex.”

  “I don’t use her, no. She knows I don’t want anything serious.”

  “So, you’re just in it for fun? Out for a good time?”

  I could tell Evie that I am. I could use this as an out, so that she doesn’t get her hopes up about what’s in our future. I could give her my usual “let’s just enjoy our time together, see where things go, don’t rush it” bit, but for some reason—some reason that I don’t fully understand and don’t want to look too closely at yet—I don’t. I don’t give her the speech.

  I don’t want her thinking this is just casual, because it doesn’t feel casual. I don’t want her thinking I’m just out for a good time with her, not when every second I spend with her seems like so much more than that.

  “When I’m with her, yes. But when I’m with you—”

  “Let me stop you right there. Don’t even try to tell me that all of a sudden you want ‘something more’. That you’re suddenly ready for not only a relationship, but an extremely complicated one with a woman who’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

  “You’re not more trouble than you’re worth.”

  She closes her eyes and holds her hands up as she backs away. “You know what, let’s just call it quits right now. No harm, no foul. It’s been fun, but I think this has run its course.”

  I reach for her, wrapping an arm around her waist before she can back too close to the curb and fall into the street. “Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to let you do that.”

  She pushes at my arms, but my hold is solid. “I didn’t ask you to let me do anything. But now I’m telling you to let me go.”

  “Are you a woman who goes back on her word? If so, then…”

  She stills, her brow furrowing as she looks up in the general direction of my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your eyes are the most beautiful brown.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “They’re like dark chocolate diamonds.”

  “Stop talking about my eyes and answer me. What did you mean?”

  “You promised me four dates. You promised to go along with what I suggest, and I’m sure as hell not suggesting that this is over. So unless you’re going to renege…”

  She relaxes in my hold, but she’s still leaning back, her upper body arched away from mine. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I’m not gonna smear your good name. I’m not gonna tell people that you stiffed a blind girl. And don’t worry. You won’t be cursed because things didn’t work out with a handicapped person. You won’t grow horns or have seven years of bad luck. You can just go your way and I’ll go mine.”

  “What if the way I want to go is your way?”

  “Grrrr,” she growls impatiently, curling her fingers around my forearms.

  Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, and I know without a doubt she has no idea how appealing she is to me.

  I can’t let her walk away.

  I just…can’t.

  “Why are you making this more difficult than it has to be?” she asks in frustration.

  “I’m not. You are. I like you, Evie. I like you a lot. I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you better. I know you’ve got hang-ups. Trust me. I get it, but don’t put words in my mouth. I’m not ready to give up. You owe me three more dates. Give me that much, and if you’re still ready to throw in the towel, I won’t argue.”

  That is a lie. I damn sure will.

  She grunts a breath of exasperation, and I know I’m wearing her down. “Why is this so important to you?”

  I don’t answer right away, mainly because the only answer I have would send her running in the other direction.

  “I don’t know exactly, Evie. It’s not like this is normal for me. Jesus!” Now I’m feeling frustrated, too. What the hell is happening to me? “But I won’t ever know if you don’t give this a chance. All I know right now is that this, whatever this is that’s happening between us, is different. You’re different. And not in that way you hate being different. Not that way. This is…more than that. You are more than that. I don’t know why or how, I only know that you are.”

  She’s quiet for at least a minute. Long enough to make me wonder if she’s going to speak at all or just ignore me until I release her and then walk away.

  I’m inordinately relieved by what Evie finally says. It’s so…Evie, I know the storm is over.

  “If we’re gonna do this, you have to at least feed me regularly. I’m starving, and you cut dinner short.”

  “If you wanted to stay, we can go back in.”

  “Only if the sidewalk developed teeth and a huge mouth and tried to swallow me whole. Then I might think about it.”

  I grin. “How about a hot dog then?” My stomach grumbles on cue. “I hear they come with a lot less indigestion.”

  She smiles a little, which I also find very encouraging.

  “I could handle a hot dog. I think I’ve had enough shit sandwich for the night.”

  “I can’t believe you called her a baboon!” I say, reluctantly loosening my hold so we can move.

  “She’s lucky I didn’t take out my cane and whip the bitch right out of her.”

  “Pretty sure she’d never live that down.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. I think it’s frowned upon to get beat up by a blind person, even in her circles.”

  “I think I’d pay good money to see that, though.”

  “What?”

  “You, whipping her ass with your cane.”

  “I didn’t say we’d fight naked.”

  “Oh. I must’ve just assumed.”

  “Do men think of anything else?”

  “When they look at you? Probably not.”

  “Well, that’ll be a cold day in hell because I never fight naked in public. Just in private. When I’m all oiled up and the candles are lit.”

  I groan at that imagery, and she grins again.

  “You’re an evil, evil woman, you know that, right?”

  “Just when I’m hungry.”

  “That’s a lie,” I tell her, reaching down to lace my fingers with hers and pulling her in close as we begin to walk up the street.

  “Yeah, that’s a lie. I wake up this way. Spicy!”

  And this…this is just part of why I’m so undeniably and inexplicably drawn to her. It’s not one thing, or two things; it’s everything about her.

  I smile down at her, even though she can’t see it. “I don’t doubt that, Evian de Champlain. I don’t doubt that one bit.”

  CHAPTER 9

  EVIE

  “JESUS, MARY, and Joseph! He’s even hotter than I remember,” Cher
elyn says the moment we are alone together after Levi drops me off.

  “Tell me what he looked like tonight,” I ask, collapsing onto the sofa, already feeling dreamy, like I’m floating on cloud nine.

  “Well, he’s tall, but you already knew that. He’s built like a baseball player. Broad shoulders, strong arms and legs, ass that’d make a woman sit up and beg.”

  “Oh, I remember what asses like that look like,” I tell her, sighing. “Okay. What else?”

  “He has dark, dark brown hair, almost black, and he’s dark-complected. But you can tell he’s tan, too, like he might work outside a lot. He’s that great sort of caramel color.”

  “That is a great color. I remember that color. I’m already picturing tan lines just below that lickable V in cut abs. You know that one I mean. And then again at the top of thick, muscular thighs. Whew! Lord, that’s so hot!”

  “Jesus, woman! Shut up! He’s yours. Stop with the TMI.”

  I grin and go on to explain. “He’s in shipping, by the way. Says he spends his time either on docks or in an office. That’s probably why he’s tan.”

  “Shipping? Hmmm.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “His face… God!” she says dramatically. “He’s flat-out gorgeous. Classic bone structure. Square jaw, sharp cheekbones, high-bridged nose. Like a Michelangelo sculpture.”

  “Ooooh, I love that imagery!”

  “He’s delish, Evie. Kissable mouth. Bitable chin. Holy shit! I’d do him.”

  “Hey! I thought you said he’s mine? At least let me have a shot at him first.”

  “Oh, right, right.”

  “Tell me about his eyes.”

  It’s her turn to sigh, and I can just imagine what his eyes must look like to inspire such a reaction. From what I remember, a man is all about the eyes. Something about them that can eat you up or turn you off. Suck you in or push you away. I don’t need my best friend to tell me which kind Levi has. I already know. They can be nothing less.

  “I have to hate him a little for his eyelashes. They’re long and thick and jet-black. Bastard! Why is it that men always get lashes like that?”

  “So unfair.” My response is obligatory. I just want her to get back to Levi.

  “Anyway, he’s got these slashing brows. Straight and dark. Gives him a kind of intense look. It’s hot, though. So damn hot.”

  “What about the color?” I prompt, champing at the bit to hear what she has to say about them.

  “They’re a beautiful blue from what I could tell. Hard to describe, though.”

  “Do they look like denim?”

  She pauses briefly. “You know, they kinda do. Like Levi’s that have been washed about forty times. Deep blue, but not too deep. Just the right depth to drown in.”

  I find myself nodding and smiling. “That’s what he called them when I asked.”

  “What?”

  “Levi’s blue.”

  “Oh girl! You might be in trouble. This guy might have a little too much game for you.”

  I laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m not saying you’re not pretty enough. If you two were to procreate, your children would probably be inducted into the Parthenon as a genetic hybrid of Isis and Adonis.”

  “Do you even realize how many mythologies you just mixed up in that one sentence?”

  “Not the point! Do you hear what I’m saying? You’re gorgeous. He’s gorgeous. That’s not the problem. I just…I just worry about you, E. This guy… He’s something else.”

  I frown. “I know. I’m probably gonna get torn apart and then eaten alive.”

  When I don’t finish, she finishes for me. “But you’re doing it anyway.”

  I cringe. “Am I stupid?”

  “Honestly? I’d probably do it, too. Evie,” she says, reaching over to lay her hand on my arm, “if I could give you my sight for one night, I’d do it just so you could see him. Preferably when he gets naked, because OHMYGOD! That’s sure to be spectacular.”

  I giggle. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too, babe.”

  A knock at the door has me sitting straight up, heart thudding with excitement. “The door!”

  “Yes, Sherlock, that’s the door. Hmmm, I wonder who it could be?” I can hear the amusement in Cherelyn’s voice.

  There is absolute silence in the room as I sit relishing the feelings that are coursing through me. Excitement. Joy. Lightheartedness. Desire. Anticipation. So much anticipation.

  We talked about a kiss, but he didn’t even attempt it when he dropped me off. Cherelyn was just getting in as we were, so it became awkward pretty quickly.

  Which reminds me that I still haven’t asked Cherelyn about her event!

  “Might wanna get your ass to the door before he leaves. Just sayin’,” Cherelyn whispers, interrupting my thoughts.

  I jump up from the couch and make my way across the room as fast as I can, grabbing the knob and wrenching it open without even asking for identification.

  My heart…my gut…my soul knows who it is.

  The moment I pull open the door, I’m wound into strong arms, dragged into the hall, and crushed against a broad chest. I land against him with a gasp, my palms splayed over two perfectly rounded pectorals.

  “I forgot something,” Levi murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine.

  This is no tentative kiss, no shy exploration. This kiss is meant to consume.

  And consume it does.

  Within seconds of flesh meeting flesh, I’m tilting my head to the side and parting my lips to let him in.

  Levi Michaelson… He’s an explosion to every one of my senses. He tastes like the wine we had with our gourmet hotdogs. We both laughed about the incongruity of it, but neither could deny how delicious the combination was.

  He smells like the night air, as though it clings to him, cloaking him in its dark, satiny mystery.

  He feels like every romance novel I’ve ever read. Strong, warm, inviting. Tantalizing, every angle and plane begging my fingers to touch.

  He moves against me so slightly I might not notice if I weren’t so attuned to sensation. But I am, and I do notice. He shifts as though he can’t get close enough. I know, because I feel it, too.

  I reach and grasp and cling, feeling him, feeling this kiss with every nerve, every surface, every sense. The swipe of his tongue, the nip of his teeth, the rumble of his groan when I thread my fingers into his short, silky hair to pull him deeper. He thrills every inch of me as effortlessly as the wind teases leaves on a tree.

  When he finally eases back, we’re both breathless.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  “Who is this?”

  His laugh is a low rumble that tugs at the corners of my mouth and sends my heart soaring. It feels so good to laugh, and to laugh with Levi.

  “Vixen! I’m not wounded at all.”

  “I was thinking about swirls of mahogany and wine and denim. How it tastes. How it feels. How it makes me feel. How you make me feel.”

  “And?”

  I pause. “It’s quite the cocktail. If I could paint it, every woman in the world would swoon.”

  “I guess that’s pretty okay then.”

  I reach up to feel his mouth, to confirm what I already knew. He’s smiling.

  “Pretty okay?”

  I feel the shrug of his shoulders. “I only did this because you were wondering if I was going to try to kiss you. I didn’t want to keep you in suspense.”

  “Oh, well, that’s quite chivalrous of you. To make such a sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice indeed,” he says, bending his head to sweep kisses along my jaw, down the side of my neck. “And just to reiterate, if you must have sex, I’m perfectly willing to take one for the team. You know, if you must have it. I know how irresistible I can be…”

  His voice has dropped low, his mouth weaving a spell over me as he speaks and kisses, weaving, weaving, weaving. His hands are roaming the ba
se of my spine and the swell of my hips, teasing as he holds me close.

  “I’ll be sure to let you know if I must,” I mutter, letting my head fall back as he trails his lips down my throat.

  “What are you thinking now?”

  As he asks, he pins me to the wall in the hallway. For the life of me, I can’t remember him moving me away from the door.

  He rubs his body along mine, thigh scraping thigh, chest grazing chest. His tongue licks deliciously at my pulse, his teeth bite softly at my collarbone.

  “I’m thinking you could be the end of me. The bright, beautiful firework that ends me. That sets me on fire. The flame that burns a brilliant blue and gold and white at the center of me.”

  “I don’t want to be the end of you. I want to be the beginning,” he whispers, his voice a quiet, luscious roll across my eardrums.

  “What are you doing to me?” I ask, my fingers working over the taut muscles of his shoulders, holding him to me as he wrecks me, like I might fall or disappear if he lets go.

  “That is what I was thinking,” he confesses, his lips making their way back to mine. “What are you doing to me?”

  He kisses me once more, words and tongues and moans tangling together, fusing into a maelstrom of sensation.

  But then, all too soon or maybe not soon enough, he’s pulling back. He’s setting me on my feet in reality. I keep firmly closed eyes that can’t see, as that’s my only way to stave off that reality.

  “If I don’t go right this minute, I won’t be leaving until morning.”

  “Don’t I have a say in that?”

  “Would you say no?”

  “Right now? No, I don’t think I could.”

  I think he’s smiling again, but I don’t raise a hand to confirm. My arms weigh too much, so I let them hang limply at my sides.

  “That is why I’m leaving.”

  I exhale slowly, a sigh of both disappointment and relief. Some small place in the back of my mind knows that if this happens, when it happens, life will change for me. The woman I am right now, Evian de Champlain, will cease to exist as I’ve known her. As I’ve rebuilt her. Like losing my sight, Levi Michaelson will remake me. He will rebuild me from the broken pieces, reshape me from the fragments. Make me whole and right and beautiful again.

  Or he will completely and utterly destroy me.