Levi's Blue: A Sexy Southern Romance

by M. Leighton

  “Sir! Sir!” she shouts, but I keep walking.

  Evie is trembling, and the only thing I care about right now is getting her comfortable and calmed down.

  I carry her across the street and down a block, toward the softy lit tables I could see. I stop at the first one I come to and set Evie gently on her feet. Her fingers are fisted in the front of my shirt, and she leaves her small body smashed to mine.

  I wind my fingers around her wrists and tug, dislodging her grip and folding her hands into mine. I brush my lips over her knuckles and keep my voice low as I speak. “Let’s sit here for a few minutes, catch our breath.”

  I wrap my arm around her waist and guide her to one of the wrought iron chairs, easing her into it. I don’t release her hand when I sit across from her. I just stretch my arm across the table and prop my elbow between us.

  “Are you thirsty?” I ask.

  “No.” Evie’s chin begins to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Levi.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  A big fat tear falls over the rim of her bottom lashes and slides slowly down her cheek. “You had to carry me that whole way. And now you’re stuck out in the French Quarter, at night, with a blind girl to take care of.”

  “My only plans tonight were to be with you. And, believe me, holding you in my arms was definitely no skin off my nose.”

  “But you had to hold me so long. I’m sure your arms are hurting,” she sniffles.

  “With these guns?” I tease, laying her hand on my bicep and flexing it. “Never.”

  Still, her distress doesn’t ease. “Are there a lot of people around? I can’t really tell with all the noise and commotion.”

  “No, just a few.”

  She drops her head. “Oh, God! And I’m in a robe.”

  I see a few more tears follow the first.

  I scramble for a way to make this better. Then one hits me.

  “Hey, I just had an idea.”

  I signal a waiter who was finishing serving another table, probably before making his way to ours. He nods and smiles and comes right over.

  “Does this hotel have a boutique of any kind? Our hotel is down the street, burning evidently, and this beautiful woman is in need of something other than a robe to wear.”

  The young guy smiles and nods again. “Yes, sir. It’s just through those doors and to the left. I think you’ll be able to find her something there.”

  “Thank you,” I say, slipping a bill into his hand. Thank God I was dressed and had money and cards on me.

  I wait until he leaves, and I rub my thumb over Evie’s knuckles to get her attention. “Let’s go get you some clothes and salvage this night. What do you say?”

  “Levi, I…” Her expression is the picture of someone who wants nothing more than to bolt. “I think I just need to go back home.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You don’t need all this aggravation. I told you what it’s like dating a blind woman. Now you can see what I mean, why men don’t hang around for long.”

  “Evie,” I begin, getting up and walking around the small table to squat in front of her. “These are extreme circumstances. I’ve been traveling for years, and I’ve never been in a hotel that’s caught on fire.”

  “And to make matters worse, you have to look after me like I’m a helpless toddler.”

  “I don’t have to ‘look after you’. I’m a man. We’re built to want to take care of women. Hunt and fish and beat our chests. Rescue and fight for the fairer sex. All that shit. It’s what we do. It’s called testosterone.”

  “Not like this. I mean, look at us! Look at where we are.”

  “No, let’s take a look at where I am. I’m sitting at a café table, outside a ritzy hotel in the French Quarter, staring at the most beautiful woman in the city. And she’s wearing a robe and nothing else. This is like a dream come true for me.”

  The edges of her lips twitch like they’re threatening to turn up at the corners, but they don’t. Her face is still creased with worry, so I keep going.

  “In fact, you should feel flattered that I would even consider putting clothes on that body when all I really want to do is find a quiet spot and untie that damn belt.”

  She shakes her head, her head still turned slightly bowed.

  “But, I guess I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to go home.”

  At that, she raises her face until her glistening eyes are level with mine. “It’s not you. You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Then prove it. Let me buy you something nice to wear and we’ll go have dinner and celebrate you selling the Magnificent Seven of paintings.”

  She doesn’t answer right away, but I think she’s starting to settle down and at least consider my offer. Her expression seems to be lightening up by the minute. Maybe just getting her away from the chaos, away from the place where she felt so helpless and vulnerable and out of control was all she needed.

  “I’ll even come into the dressing room and help you get dressed if you insist.”

  Her smile is small, but it feels big to me. I feel like I just won a miniature battle, like I outwitted all the other men she’s dated—the ones who have given her such a skewed perception of herself—and captured the flag.

  “I’ll think about it. The dressing room, I mean.”

  “So, yes to the clothes?”

  She nods, her smile firmly intact now. “Yes to the clothes.”

  I pull her to her feet. “Great, then let’s get in there.” I reach down and give one end of her robe tie a tug. “Before I change my mind about this damn belt.”

  She mutters something under her breath. I can’t tell what she said, but what matters is that she’s smiling again. It’s starting to feel like that’s all that matters to me.

  CHAPTER 17

  EVIE

  AFTER I let Levi lead me inside, we’re met at the entrance to the boutique by a charming native of New Orleans who, once she hears our predicament, promises to get me “fixed right up” and return me to Levi in the hotel bar. He doesn’t argue, only asks me if I’m okay with that. When I assure him I am, he kisses me on the cheek, a lingering brush of his lips that heats my skin, and leaves his card with the woman.

  After he’s gone, she mutters to me, “No limit?”

  I shrug. “I guess not, but we can still be reasonable.”

  “Oh, cher, why be reasonable when you can be stunning?”

  Coraline is her name, and she chatters non-stop as she picks out a few things for me to try on, right down to the shoes, and leads me back to the dressing room.

  “We don’t have underthings, you see,” she informs me, “so I think a dress with a nice length will suit best, don’t you think?”

  I nod, completely at my wits’ end by this point.

  I wait until she’s given me some privacy before I run my fingers over the three dresses she chose.

  I didn’t ask what color or style. Right now, I’m not feeling picky. I just want some real clothes to wear.

  I slip into dress number one by feel with no problem. When I step out from behind the heavy, velvet curtain, Coraline immediately sends me back.

  “No way, honey. That just won’t do.”

  She doesn’t say why. She just shuffles me back inside for round number two.

  The second one garners much the same reaction. When I’m hurriedly stuffed back behind the curtain, I make up my mind that if she says the same thing over outfit number three, I’m leaving. In my robe.

  But she doesn’t.

  When I pull back the curtain, I hear her gasp, and I know she’s pleased. “You gon’ turn him on his ear,” she murmurs in her so, so Southern way.

  She plucks and pulls and situates the material around my shoulders and waist until she’s pleased with the effect. She helps me slip into the shoes to match, a low heel so I won’t hurt myself, and then she brushes my hair with a comb she managed to procure from one of the hotel accessory packets stored in housekeeping.

 
She rings me up, the total enough to drop my jaw, and then bags up my robe to take with me.

  “Don’t you worry about the cost,” she whispers into my ear as she hands me off to the concierge who agreed to take me to the bar. “You’re worth it, and he’ll think so, too. You’ll see.”

  She pats my shoulder, and I thank her as the concierge gives me his arm and bids me to come along.

  It didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be much help in directing him toward Levi until we walk in and the concierge stops at the entrance.

  “Where is he—” he begins before stopping abruptly. “Never mind. This must be him.”

  Stomach fluttering and fingers fidgeting, I wait for Levi, listening for the sound of his footsteps. I hear nothing but low voices and bar noises, though.

  Until he speaks.

  “Thank you.”

  I know he’s speaking to the concierge, probably giving him a fat tip, so I wait. A few seconds later, my fingers are removed from the concierge’s arm and laced with warm, familiar ones.

  “You look…amazing.” His tone is soft and filled with awe, sparking a smile that proves to be particularly hard to get rid of. Something about this man… I don’t know. He thrills me, but he also makes me feel so spectacular. Like I’m the only star in the sky and he can’t take his eyes off me.

  I’m a little self-conscious, being dressed in something I know nothing about. “Tell me about the dress. I have no idea what it looks like.”

  “It’s a deep red color, like sangria maybe. Or a ruby. And the material reminds me of water, the way it moves around you and flows over your body. It couldn’t fit you any better if it had been made for you. It sort of…hugs you. Jesus, does it hug you.”

  I have the mental image of him licking his lips, and I can’t help grinning. “So, it looks okay on me?”

  “Okay? Okay? It makes your skin look like it’s made of alabaster, like it would be cool to the touch.” As if testing to see if that’s the case, Levi swipes a finger from the curve of my shoulder all the way down my arm. “And this color… It makes your eyes look lighter somehow. Like a glass of old, perfectly aged cognac. And your hair… She must’ve brushed it because it floats around your shoulders like a honey-blonde cloud.”

  In my mind, I’m taking all the things he just said and conjuring a picture of what I look like. I can’t deny that I’m pleased with what I “see”.

  “So, she did good?”

  “No. She did great!”

  “Well, I’m glad you approve because it cost a small fortune.”

  “I don’t care how much it cost. Seeing you this way…worth it! Totally worth it. I only have one question.”

  When he doesn’t continue right away, I prompt, “Which is?”

  Levi leans toward me, his body snugging up to mine from chest to thigh. I feel his warmth envelop me, wrapping its invisible arms around me like a lover’s embrace. “Are you wearing anything under that dress?”

  He’s trying to be quiet, and his lips brush my ear as he speaks, sending a shiver down my back. I should be embarrassed. I should lie and say I am. But I don’t. I want him to know. I want him to think about it as often as I know I will. “No. Not a single thing.”

  “Christ,” he breathes, letting his forehead fall onto my shoulder. I feel the skim of his mouth over my throat seconds before he says, “Let’s get some dinner before I forget that I’m a gentleman.”

  I laugh lightly, nervously, my belly squeezing with desire. I’m not sure I want him to be a gentleman. And maybe I’ll tell him that.

  Later.

  “Where to?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I laugh again. “Not in the least.”

  As Levi leads me away, I’m filled with satisfaction that I braved my way through my distress. Granted, it was mostly because of him, but still, I’m glad I didn’t run. Glad I didn’t take the coward’s way out and run home.

  We eat a meal I hardly taste and then dance in a tiny, hot club where I can hardly breathe. And it’s wonderful. Every unpredictable moment is wonderful. All I care about, all I can think about is Levi.

  As we leave, as though reading a niggling worry that I’ve managed to push to the very back of my mind, Levi calls ahead to make sure that our room is still available (and not a pile of ash). They assure him the room, as well as all our possessions, remained untouched and are awaiting our return.

  Now the evening is coming to an end and we’re making our way back to the hotel. The night is balmy, the air sweet with the scent of flowers and beignets, and the man at my side is insinuating himself under my skin more and more with each step, each breath. Each heartbeat.

  Levi’s body is plastered to my side. Or maybe my body is plastered to his. I don’t know which, and I don’t really care. I only know that air can’t even get between us.

  And yet I want to be closer.

  So much closer.

  His fingers are linked with mine, and his thumb is making an arc over my palm. I feel every brush of his skin like a touch to my core. A sweep over my most sensitive place, back and forth, winding me tighter and tighter, fueling an ache that has been days in the making.

  My breaths start to come faster, and all my attention shifts to where our bodies meet, to every point of friction along my arm, across my hand. My skin is hypersensitive, the rasp of the material of my dress over my naked body enough to cause a moan to hover at the back of my throat. It’s like I can feel my own blood pumping through my veins, bathing my nerves, setting them on edge.

  I’m on fire with only one way to douse the flames.

  “Levi?” I sound breathless. If I weren’t so turned on, I’d be humiliated by that, but right now I don’t care. The desire to touch and to be touched by him is gaining ground faster than I can fight against it.

  “Evie?” His voice is as dark as the night that I can’t see. Gone is his customary flippancy. All I hear in those two syllables is an ache that matches my own. Matches it and deepens it.

  “How far is the hotel?”

  “We’re almost there. Why? Do your feet hurt? Do you need me to carry you?”

  Oh God! To be in his arms, so much of my body touching his… It sounds like heaven, but I can’t ask that of him. Not after he carried me so much earlier in the evening.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “I…I’m just curious.”

  We walk a bit farther, and I block out all the other ambient noises to focus on Levi’s breathing. It’s getting faster, too, and the swipe of his thumb is becoming more forceful on my palm.

  Winding, winding, winding.

  I swallow a groan.

  When we arrive at the hotel, Levi pulls me gently toward what I hope is the elevator.

  We stop and I hear him punch a button. I nearly sigh in relief. We’re almost there, almost there.

  With a quiet ding, the doors ease open, and Levi steps forward. I follow closely.

  The doors swoosh shut, leaving us alone in the car. The only sounds are the ones we make—breathing, shifting, touching. We could stand farther apart now, but we don’t. I’m tucked against Levi’s arm, standing so close that our joined hands graze my belly. I close my unseeing eyes, wishing he would press those fingers to my stomach, trail them to the edge of my dress, drag them back up underneath it and put an end to this painfully delicious fire that burns between my legs.

  His thumb is making slow circles on my palm now, the action echoed at the apex of my thighs, generating a pulse, a sensuous throb low in my belly.

  The doors open and Levi exits the elevator, keeping me pulled to his side. We walk silently down the corridor, to our room and through the door.

  He closes it behind us, snapping the brace in place, locking us in.

  I take a step back, not knowing where things will go now, but knowing where I want them to. It’s probably too soon, this is probably too new, he’s probably not forever, but for the first time in my life, I don’t care a
bout any of that. About tomorrow. About consequences.

  I want this.

  I want him.

  More than I want assurances.

  “Do you need help with that dress?” he asks, each word a caress in the dark.

  “No. I got into it myself. I’m sure I can get out of it, too.”

  He says nothing, but I can hear that he doesn’t move. He’s waiting. For me.

  I clear my throat, my mouth so dry it’s difficult to swallow. “Maybe a little help with the zipper, now that I think about it.” I turn, raising my hair and presenting him with my back.

  I wait, my senses straining toward his heat when he moves forward to stand so close I can feel his thighs pressing to the backs of mine.

  His fingers brush away a stray strand of hair before they grip the zipper at my nape, sending a jolt of heat ripping through me. I inhale and hold the cool air deep inside my chest, reaching for calm and finding none.

  So slowly that my knees feel weak, he inches the zipper down my back, his knuckles grazing the top of my ass when it clicks to a stop. After a pause, he trails them all the way up my spine in a single long, leisurely stroke that ends with his fingers gripping mine where they’re holding my hair.

  He straightens them one by one, my hair cascading down my bare back. I can’t turn because he’s standing so close. I can only feel when he takes my index finger and slips into the hot cavern of his mouth and licks it from knuckle to tip. I feel that warm, wet tongue like lightning between my legs, like he’s licking me there instead. And when he uses his teeth to nip the pad of my finger, I gasp, squeezing my thighs together as tightly as I can.

  “Levi?” I ask, not even sure what I want to say, how to tell him what I’m feeling and what I want.

  “Evie.” Not a question. Not an answer. But a plea.

  “C-can you help me with my dress? I seem to be having some difficulty.”

  He doesn’t laugh. Neither do I. For once, the humor in our relationship is gone. There is only fire. Heat. Need.

  With my back still to him, he releases my hand, bringing both of his to my shoulders. So slowly that I have to bite my lip to keep from making a sound, he slips his fingers under the material of my dress and runs his palms down my arms, dragging my only covering along and leaving me naked from the waist up. One shift of my hips, one small shimmy and it falls down my legs and into a pool around my ankles.