Levi's Blue: A Sexy Southern Romance

by M. Leighton

  “Consequences? And what would those be?” I ask as he flings back the sheet and crawls on top of me.

  “Fifty lashes.”

  “Lashes with what?”

  “The only part that’s in question.”

  “You’re going to lash me with your manhood?”

  “I guess not since I’m going to impale you on that. I’ll just have to lash you with my tongue.”

  Scrumptious heat gathers in my low belly.

  “Well, if that’s the punishment, then I’d like to enter a plea of guilty. Very, very guilty.”

  Levi stretches out on top of me, wedging his hips between my legs, the appendage that was never actually in question pressing against the inside of my thigh. “Well, if we’re entering pleas,” he says in a hoarse voice, pushing into me. I gasp and he groans. Grinding his hips into mine, he leans down to suck hard on one nipple for a second before he releases it and pulls almost all the way out. Instantly, I feel bereft and achy, yearning for that full, tight feeling of him buried inside me. “I’d like to enter my plea as well.”

  He thrusts back into me as he says the word “enter,” pushing up on his hands, arms straight, and flexing his body, pressing as deep as he can go. I feel the presence of him everywhere, like he’s invaded me, body and soul. Tingling pleasure spreads through me like a brushfire, hot and fast.

  “Levi?”

  “Yeah?” he says on a growl.

  “Shut up and punish me.”

  “As you wish, m’lady. As you wish.”

  He drives my body relentlessly, pushing me up, up, up to new heights, toward a peak so high I have to fight for air. Just before I tip over the edge, before I begin my free fall into ecstasy, I fist my fingers in his hair and pull his ear to my mouth. With all the emotion that’s flooding my heart and soul, I whisper, “I love you, Levi Michaelson.”

  With that said, with that confessed, I let my head fall back, and when I fly apart in his arms, I’m staring up into his face, into his eyes, seeing what I’ve longed to see with all my heart.

  Love.

  I wanted to see his love.

  And now I can.

  EPILOGUE

  EVIE

  I STEP out of the shower, listening for signs of life as I slip into my robe. The house is quiet. My hearing isn’t as acute as it once was, but it’s still pretty damn good. Levi is forever accusing me of hearing dog whistles, paint drying, and grass growing. Lucky for me, I can hear his softest whispers in the bedroom. As long as I don’t lose that, I’ll be okay.

  Squeezing water from my wet hair with a towel, I walk to the window and look out into the backyard. My vision hasn’t improved any more. At a distance, I can still only see fuzzy shapes and muted colors, but up close they become clearer, the colors more discernible and vibrant.

  Like now, I can see Levi’s shape. I can make out the tanned skin of his upper body and the deep blue of his jeans-clad lower half. I see bright spots when he moves, like the sun glinting off his sweaty back as he bends and shifts. And what I can’t really see, I can fill in from what I’ve seen up close and personal. Very personal.

  I’m not at all surprised that he’s outside. Working in the backyard is one of his favorite pastimes, but even more reason for him is the tiny, toddling shape that enters my field of view.

  Our son, Evan.

  He’s three years old, and there’s nothing he likes more than being outside with his daddy. Whether Levi is working on something like a swing set or a tree house, or fiddling with something in the garage, Evan is by his side until I make him come inside.

  With only one exception.

  And that exception is today.

  I raise the window and shout out to the boys, “I’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Who’s going to class with me?”

  Evan squeals, a sound that makes my heart swell to the point of bursting, and takes off at a run toward the back door.

  Levi straightens and braces himself against the shovel he’s holding and sends a dazzling grin my way. “Cheater.”

  He knows it’s the one thing our baby loves more than time outside with his father, too.

  I shrug. “When it comes to keeping her men close, a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.”

  He laughs and shakes his head as I lower the window. Seconds later, a little bundle of joy that looks exactly like his father, just with lighter hair, comes barreling into my room and launches himself at me.

  “I’m going! I’m going!” he chants happily.

  “Of course, you’re going. You’re my best helper,” I tell him, planting a kiss on his warm head and inhaling the scent of little boy. “You play with your blocks while I get dressed, ’k?”

  He wiggles out of my arms and goes straight to his blocks where they’re stacked in one corner by the door. It’s one of several sets that are scattered around the house. He loves building things, creating. I like to think he gets that from me.

  The set of blocks in our room was actually a gift from my parents. After Levi proposed, I called them. I was so happy, my world so perfect, I couldn’t leave them out. Regardless of the past, they’re still my parents, and I love them.

  They were…chilly at first, but they came to the wedding, said all the polite things, did what was expected of them. The real break in the ice of our relationship, however, came in the form of the little bundle of joy that’s currently sitting across the room from me. Evan brought hope and healing to my family, and now Mom and Dad fly down to visit us several times each year. Always for the holidays and always for his birthday. It’s one more thing I can thank my husband for—Evan and peace with my parents.

  Our son is still there, playing quietly, when I come out of the bathroom ten minutes later, dressed and made up with my hair pulled back into a twist. I’m bent over slipping on some sandals when Levi walks in.

  “The best view in all of Louisiana,” he purrs, walking over to put his hands on my hips and tug them in snug against his. I feel the beginnings of a bulge, and I swivel my head around to look at my husband.

  “What?” he asks, his face the picture of innocence.

  I press back into him the tiniest bit. “How do you do that?”

  “I don’t do that. You do that. You know how I feel about this.” One hand circles between us to caress my ass.

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I straighten and turn, and he leans forward to kiss me. Not an adults-only kiss, but certainly not a peck either. It’s just enough to make me wish today wasn’t Healing Art day.

  “Your timing is horrible.”

  “No, I just like to get you all flustered before you go to class.”

  “Cruel.”

  “But you love it.” His sexy grin is contagious.

  “Yeah, I kinda do. You’ll just have to make it worth my while when we get back.”

  “As soon as it,” he says, tipping his head to indicate our son who is still playing obliviously a few feet away, “goes to sleep, it’s on!”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Levi starts to turn away, but stops, his expression going soft and loving, an expression I could stare at for hours and hours. He stretches past me and reaches into the closet. “Maybe you could wear this,” he says quietly, pulling out the shirt that he wanted me to paint in that night so long ago.

  Chills spread down my arms. They always do when the shirt comes out. It has been a significant item in our relationship since that night. I painted him in it, made love to him in it, then he gave it back to me so I could have something that meant so much to him. Over the years, the shirt has seen all of our milestones. I was wearing it when he proposed (the first of three increasingly amazing proposals, I might add), I was wearing it when we christened our new home, I was wearing it when we conceived Evan, and we’ve made love in it at least a hundred times, each time a little more incredible than the time before.

  So when Levi pulls out the shirt and suggests I wear it, I know something s
pecial is up.

  “Okay,” I say, taking the shirt from him and spreading it out on the bed behind me. “Any special occasion?”

  Rather than answering, Levi gives my butt a slap and then walks over to our kid, grabbing him by the waist and hurling him into the air. Evan laughs in delight.

  Levi brings him down to cradle him in one arm while he tickles him with his free hand, returning to me as he does. “I’ve been thinking. You know what he needs?” He’s addressing me.

  “What?”

  “A playmate.”

  Levi’s eyes rise to meet mine, a gentle, loving glow lighting the denim blue that I love so much. His lips are curved into a sanguine smile, and his face is the very picture of everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.

  My chest inflates with happiness at his words. We’ve both always said we’d have another when the time was right. I’ve been ready for a while, but I was waiting for Levi to bring it up before I mentioned it.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He throws Evan over his shoulder and leans forward to press his mouth to mine. This kiss is different. It says all the sweet, forever things that my husband so often tells me without having to say a single word.

  “I love you,” I tell him when he pulls slightly away.

  “Like I love you.”

  I push my lip out into a pout. “Now I don’t want to go to class.”

  “Noooooo!” Evan cries in distress. “I wanna paint!”

  “I know, buddy. We’re still going,” I assure him.

  “We’ll be back before you know it.” My vision isn’t good enough to allow me a driver’s license, so Levi still has to take me to class. Most weeks, he just works while Evan and I are there, since his office is in the same building now. “Besides, those kids need you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Just like me, he always keeps the children in mind.

  Levi’s business has had a couple of really good years, so in addition to moving out into the suburbs, he bought me a huge building downtown so I could have more space for more students. He has his offices upstairs and, downstairs, I use one side for Healing Art and the other side is being converted into an art gallery. We’re only about three months away from it being ready to open. Cherelyn, of course, will be handling the planning. She only works part-time now since she’s got a baby on the way.

  “Hey, would you mind if we stop by and see Cherelyn while we’re in town, too?”

  “Of course not. Just let me get a quick shower.”

  My surgery worked out really well for my best friend, too. She and my surgeon hit it off and ended up going out. I suppose it was love at first sight, because they got married five months later and are now the happiest couple I know.

  Besides Levi and me, of course.

  “You know,” I begin, reaching out to cup Levi’s face before he goes for his shower, “things turned out better than I ever could’ve thought possible. I never would’ve guessed that one little art show could change so many lives.”

  “It’s you,” he says, his voice low with sincerity. “It’s not just my life you bring color to. It’s everyone around you. You are the color. The life. The love. The happiness. I’d be lost and miserable if it weren’t for you.”

  “I feel the same way about you, you know. You saved me.”

  “And I’ll keep on saving you. Forever.”

  “Forever.”

  And this time, I believe him.

  As Levi sets our son down and heads for the shower, I look back at the shirt spread out on the bed. It’s spattered and streaked with all the colors of my life, of our past and our future. I reach out to touch one spot. It’s right over where my navel hits when I’m wearing the shirt. It’s a thumbprint in dark red. Levi’s thumbprint. He put it there when we found out I was pregnant.

  I rub my finger over his print, thinking about the colors of my world, how much it looks like this shirt. My life is Evan happy. My future is Michaelson bright. And my skies are Levi’s blue. Nothing but Levi’s blue.

  AFTERWORD

  THERE ARE many types of blindness that can occur throughout the course of a human lifespan, only one of which comes as the result of traumatic brain injury. There are also many practiced and experimental treatments to help restore all types of vision loss. Some are successful, some are not. However, in Levi’s Blue, creative license was employed to craft the details of Evie’s vision loss and restoration in a way that would better satisfy the needs of the story.

  Secondly, I wanted to address Evie’s ability to paint without sight. While that might seem farfetched and unbelievable to some, I assure you that it’s not only possible, but it’s being done every day with even more beauty than you can imagine. Although Evie’s story and her painting process are not exactly like John’s, his journey and his work inspired my Evie. Please follow the link below to see this amazing ability in action through the incredible work of John Bramblitt. You won’t be sorry:)

  http://bramblitt.myshopify.com

  Thirdly, while I have you here, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you. Thank you for walking through the life and love of Levi and Evie with me. There for a while, I wasn’t sure I had any happy endings left in me, but these two showed me different. I’m grateful to them and to you for not losing faith in me. I am and will always be profoundly grateful.

  Lastly, if you were touched by this story, loved it, thought about it, smiled over it, swooned over it, please consider telling a friend and leaving a review. Your words, spoken and written, are more powerful than you know, and to an author, they’re like water and air and life. You may think you’re just one person, just one reader, but to me, you are much more than that. You are a person who helped change my life. You are a person who can make a difference every time you pick up a book, leave a review, or recommend that book to a friend. Each and every time you do this, you play a vital role in an author’s life. You play a vital role in MY life, and for that I am more appreciative than I could ever express. So, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU.

  To receive the first chapter of my next book, MAVERICK’S LIE, a super sexy southern story, as well as exclusive sales and giveaways, sign up for my NEWSLETTER. For more information about me, my books, or how to reach me, please visit my website. Look me up out there! I’d love to hear from you:)

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’d like to thank God, first and foremost, for bringing me into an occupation that I love so, so much. From day one, it’s been a creative outlet, a joyous job, but since the death of my father, I’ve found that it’s therapeutic as well. I needed The Empty Jar. But as it turns out, I needed this story, too. It healed me in places I wasn’t even aware needed help. For that, for this, I’m profoundly grateful.

  I’d also like to thank my BFF, Courtney Cole, for being so patient with me and for talking me off so many ledges. We shall terrorize a retirement village together somewhere, my friend. Count on it:)

  A special thanks to Jenn Foor. Woman! You are a machine! Thank you for being such a valuable set of proofing eyes.

  To Kat. Always, my friend. Always.

  Thank you to the amazing ladies in my reader group for your help with all things Louisiana. It brought this story to life in my head.

  Thank you to all the incredible bloggers who helped spread the word about this story, who brought it to the attention of the readers everywhere. I will never be able to adequately express how much you mean to me.

  And for my readers, thank you for being loyal and brave enough to take this journey with me. You have my heart. Truly. Always.

  OTHER BOOKS BY M. LEIGHTON

  All the Pretty Lies

  All the Pretty Poses

  All Things Pretty

  Down to You

  Up to Me

  Everything for Us

  Always with You

  Levi’s Blue

  Pocketful of Sand

  The Empty Jar

  Strong Enough

  Tough Enough

&
nbsp; Brave Enough

  The Wild Ones

  Wild Child

  Some Like It Wild

  There’s Wild, Then There’s You

  YA and PARANORMAL

  Fragile

  Madly

  Madly & Wolfhardt

  Madly & the Jackal

  Blood Like Poison: For the Love of a Vampire

  Blood Like Poison: Destined for a Vampire

  Blood Like Poison: To Kill an Angel

  The Reaping

  The Reckoning

  New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author, M. Leighton, is a native of Ohio. She relocated to the warmer climates of the South, where she can be near the water all summer and miss the snow all winter. Possessed of an overactive imagination from early in her childhood, Michelle finally found an acceptable outlet for her fantastical visions: literary fiction. Having written over a dozen novels, these days Michelle enjoys letting her mind wander to more romantic settings with sexy Southern guys, much like the one she married and the ones you’ll find in her latest books. When her thoughts aren’t roaming in that direction, she’ll be riding wild horses, skiing the slopes of Aspen or scuba diving with a hot rock star, all without leaving the cozy comfort of her office.

  About Michelle: I love coffee and chocolate, even more so when they are combined. I’m convinced that one day they could be the basis for world peace. I also love the color red and am seriously considering dying my hair.

  THE END