Taking It Easy: Boys of the Big Easy book two

by Erin Nicholas

  He grinned as she rubbed against him even as part of his mind thought how much he’d love to not have any crazy or annoying coming up.

  Then he stopped thinking as Dana stroked her tongue over his lower lip and her hands reached between them for his fly.

  “Damn, Dana,” he said gruffly. “Right here? Like this?”

  “Right here, like this,” she confirmed.

  He lifted his hips to help her get his jeans open, but just then he heard a soft thud behind the couch. Dana stiffened in his arms and his hands froze.

  There was a little sniff. Dana groaned. Logan slumped back onto the cushion as Dana slid off his lap. She peered over the back of the couch.

  “Grace? What are you doing?”

  Logan tipped his head, pulling in a long breath. Grace was up. And down here. Right behind the couch where he’d been about to…yeah, he couldn’t even think about that with the little girl right there.

  “I have to move the globe,” Grace said in a whisper.

  Dana looked at the table at the end of the couch. “I can do it for you.”

  “No!” Grace said loudly. Then her voice dropped to a whisper again. “I have to do it.”

  Dana sighed. She looked at Logan. “Okay, sweetie, go ahead.”

  Logan pulled a throw pillow over his lap as Grace came around the corner of the couch. He watched as she picked up the globe from the end table and moved it to the table on the other end of the couch. Then she looked up at the ceiling and said, “’Night, Daddy!”

  Logan felt his gut tighten, but then the little girl looked at him and Dana. And gave them both a grin. “’Night!”

  Then she ran back upstairs.

  “Good night. I love you,” Dana called after her.

  After Grace had thumped up the steps—and how had they not heard her thumping down the steps?—Dana turned to him. She tucked one foot under her butt on the cushion and rested her elbow on the back of the couch.

  “So…”

  He shrugged as she trailed off. “She’s six.” Little kids did weird things. It wasn’t a big deal.

  Dana nodded. “Yeah. She is. She’s also into ghosts.”

  Logan lifted a brow. “Oh?”

  Dana sighed. Her eyes went to the couch cushion behind him. “It started last year when her grandma, Chad’s mom, told her that her dad would always be with her. Now she’s convinced that he’s here, living in the house with us.”

  Logan thought about that as he felt a little shiver go up his spine. Huh. That was out there.

  Or was it? What if…

  He shook his head. “That doesn’t freak her out, though, right?”

  “The opposite,” Dana said. “It makes her feel good. Safe.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “Yeah. Until she starts talking to him. Or…the globe thing.”

  Logan glanced at the globe on the table behind Dana. “What’s that about?”

  “Chad gave the girls the globe so they could always find where he was when he was away. Grace doesn’t remember that because she was about one when he gave it to them, but it’s, in her words, the best present he ever gave them. Now, she…um…” Dana pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Logan leaned in, putting a hand on her thigh. “Now she what?”

  “She moves it to that table every night before bed. Then in the morning she comes down and checks it. And it’s always moved to the other table. She thinks it’s Chad’s way of telling her that he’s here now.”

  The shiver trickled down Logan’s spine again. “The globe really does move from one table to the other?”

  Dana looked at his expression and gave a little laugh. “Well, I’m pretty sure Grace is the one that moves it. But yeah, it’s always on the other end table when I get up in the morning.”

  “That doesn’t freak you out a little?” Logan asked, eyeing the globe.

  Dana put her hand over his. “No, tough guy. Because Grace is the one moving it. The psychologist thinks it’s Grace’s way of telling me Chad is still here with us.”

  Logan didn’t look around the room. But only because that was silly. Not because he most certainly did not want to see some see-through white image of Dana’s dead husband floating by the fireplace watching them.

  “That’s…nice,” Logan finally managed.

  Dana snorted. “It’s creepy. You can say it.”

  “It’s not.” He shook his head, thinking about what Dana had really told him. Not that Chad was floating around the house, watching over his girls, but that Grace took comfort in the idea that he was there and that she was trying to comfort her mom. “It’s kind of sweet.”

  “Yeah, well, wait until she starts talking to you about the undead.”

  His eyes widened. “The undead?”

  “She’s very into zombies and vampires. Angels too,” Dana added. “Really anything that can’t die.”

  And Logan’s heart thudded at that. A six-year-old shouldn’t have to be dealing with the idea of death and what that really meant for her dad. “I can handle zombies.”

  “You sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  “She also…um…wears black a lot,” Dana said.

  “Okay. Black’s great. I have no problem with black.”

  “And she…” Dana licked her lips and for a second Logan was distracted, “…has a lot of funerals.”

  That snapped his eyes back to hers. “Excuse me?”

  Dana nodded. “She plays funeral. With her dolls and stuffed animals.”

  Logan slowly nodded, thinking about that. “Okay. She plays funeral. That’s a little…”

  “Morbid.”

  “Different.”

  Dana huffed out a laugh. “Yes, it is. But you might actually get behind it,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “She thinks funerals are just big parties. Her dad’s was like a birthday party but instead of celebrating his birth, it was his death.” Dana sighed, this time a heavier sound than before. “The psychologist has done a great job with her. But she hasn’t gotten her over any of this fascination.”

  Logan shook his head. “I don’t think she should have to get over it. In fact, she sounds better adjusted about death than most adults I know.”

  “Really?”

  “I know a thing or two about being without a dad,” Logan said, taking Dana’s hand and linking their fingers. “I was a lot younger than Grace, but dealing with that…I don’t think there’s a right way or a wrong way.”

  Dana swallowed hard, her eyes wide. “Oh my God, Logan, I didn’t even think of that.”

  “Think of what?”

  “That you lost your dad. I knew that. From Gabe. But I guess…I just didn’t connect those dots just now. I’m so sorry.”

  He gave her a half smile. “No worries, babe. I’m okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  He shrugged. “Well, as okay as you can be when your dad dies when you’re only two and you don’t remember him.”

  Dana blew out a soft breath. “I didn’t even think about you having that in common with Grace and Chloe.”

  He nodded. He actually hadn’t either. He’d been so young that not having a dad was just how it was. He didn’t know life any other way. But he supposed that did give him something in common with the girls. “I can see why the idea of him still being around would be comforting,” he said honestly. It seemed reasonable that a little kid would be scared of ghosts, and yet, when he really thought about it, if she thought of ghosts just as people who had died but still wanted to hang around, it wasn’t scary at all.

  Dana gave him a wobbly smile. “You don’t think my baby girl is creepy?”

  Logan gave her a grin, suddenly feeling a surge of optimism. He got where Grace was coming from. Maybe he was going to be okay at this dad thing. “Babe, she’s growing up in New Orleans. The home of jazz funerals,” Logan said. “And there are lots of cultures that celebrate at funerals rather than cry. And as for ghosts…New Orleans is one
of the most haunted cities there is. She might be on to something.”

  Dana nodded. “True.”

  Logan put his hand on her cheek. “Don’t worry, Mama. She’s going to be okay.”

  Something flickered in Dana’s eyes. “You think so?”

  “I don’t think you’ll have it any other way.”

  She leaned in. “You know, I kind of like you.”

  Logan’s heart squeezed at that. “Ditto.”

  Then she kissed him again. One hand tangled in her hair again as she pushed the pillow off his lap and slid onto his thighs. His hand skimmed up the side of her thigh and underneath her shorts, the pads of his fingers rubbing over the warm silk of her panties. She pressed against his suddenly renewed erection and Logan groaned.

  But there were kids right upstairs.

  “Hey, babe.” He tried to pull back, but her hands went to his face, holding him still. He relished the way her tongue stroked boldly over his for a moment. But then reason returned again and he tugged on her hair as he leaned back.

  The tension on her hair made her moan and he grinned even as he bit back a growl. God, he loved that.

  “We’re not alone,” he reminded her.

  She frowned slightly. “Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”

  Well, he couldn’t say he didn’t. His bar was supposedly haunted, in fact, and while he’d never seen an apparition, things did get moved around inexplicably and there were strange noises at times. Of course, the building was well over a century old, so noises were probably to be expected. Still, Trahan’s was a stop along three of the city’s most popular ghost tours—and those tourists liked to buy drinks when they stopped in—so he didn’t argue the stories.

  But that wasn’t what he was talking about here. “Your girls,” he said.

  Her eyes flickered to the staircase behind him. “They’re down for the count now,” she said.

  His cock stirred. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “They don’t get up at night much.”

  “Much.”

  “Hardly at all.”

  “But they do sometimes.”

  Dana wiggled on his lap. “Sometimes. But they won’t tonight.”

  “You sure?”

  She studied him a moment. Then she pushed back off of his lap and stood. “Don’t move.”

  Logan watched her cross to one of the cabinets beside the TV. She bent over to rummage in the cupboard. The short shorts rode up, and he suddenly hoped like hell she had a plan here to be sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. When she straightened, she was holding a roll of shiny red paper.

  She grinned at him. “Cellophane.”

  “Oooh-kay,” he said slowly.

  She laughed and unrolled part of the cellophane. Then she wadded it in her fist. It made a nice crackling-crinkling sound. He grinned. “Where’s that go?”

  “On the landing. They step on it and I’ll hear it.” She headed for the steps, tearing of a big piece and laying it out over the carpet on the landing above the first set of steps.

  It made a lot of noise as she did it, and Logan had to admit that was pretty smart. And that he really liked her too.

  Dana was actually giggling as she returned to the couch and slid onto his lap. But she immediately started kissing him again and Logan had no choice but to grip her ass and kiss her back, feeling as if he was starving for her.

  Her hands slid up under his shirt, her fingers splaying over his chest. He did the same, running his hands up under the back of her shirt, the smooth expanse of skin uninterrupted by any bra straps. His hands came around to cup her bare breasts, his thumbs flicking over the hard tips, and suddenly Dana was yanking his shirt up and over his head.

  The kiss broken, she stared down at him, breathing hard. He watched her gorgeous green eyes darken with desire as he continued to play with her nipples. She reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up. She didn’t take it off completely, but he supposed that even with the warning of crinkling cellophane, she had to be ready to hide what they were up to. Didn’t matter. Her sweet tits were bared to him. He immediately took one of the tips in his mouth, circling it with his tongue, then sucking. Her back arched and her hand went to his head. “Logan,” she breathed softly.

  He sucked for a moment, then switched sides, plucking at the wet nipple he’d just left. Dana’s hips circled, pressing against his aching cock.

  “Need you,” he told her gruffly, looking up as he ran a hand down to her ass and then slipped his fingers under the edge of her shorts again. “Need to make you come.”

  A little shudder went through her body and she shifted, reaching for his fly. It was still unbuttoned and she lowered the zipper quickly, reaching inside his boxers for his hard-as-steel shaft. She squeezed and stroked and Logan’s breath hissed out between his teeth.

  “Tell me I can be buried deep when I come,” he told her, leaning in again for a taste of her, sucking on her nipple as he slid his finger under the edge of her panties and against the wet heat between her legs.

  “Yes, please,” she said, raggedly. “I need you.”

  “Pull them out of the way.” He knew she knew he was talking about her shorts and panties.

  She let go of him to lean back, reaching down to pull everything to the side.

  Logan worked his jeans and boxers down far enough to fully release his cock. He couldn’t see as much of her as he wanted to, but he was going to feel it.

  “Give me that sweet pussy, Dana,” he told her, his voice like gravel.

  She sucked in a breath. He knew she loved when he talked about cocks and pussies and fucking.

  “Let me have it,” he said. “Ride me.” He reached for her hips, pulling her close.

  Dana leaned in, lifting herself slightly, still holding her clothes out of the way. A moment later, she sunk down on him, taking him deep.

  Bare. They didn’t need a condom anymore and damn, this was so, so good.

  They groaned together. She slumped forward, her mouth against his neck.

  “God, you feel good.”

  He squeezed her hip where he held her. “I will never get tired of driving deep into this sweet body.”

  She took a deep breath. “Good.”

  He took her hair in his hand again and pulled her back to look at him. “Now ride me.”

  She licked her lips and then started moving. She lifted herself, nearly to his tip, then sunk down again, taking him deep. She did it again, slowly, nearly driving him crazy.

  He had a suspicion that was her intent.

  He growled and lifted his hips. “Dana,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah?”

  “Either fuck me or lie back and spread your legs and let me do the work.”

  He saw her eyes flare with heat and her breathing hitch. She didn’t move.

  “Dana,” he said warningly.

  “I’m just trying to decide.”

  Yeah, he was going to decide for her. He flipped her to her back on the cushion beside him, lifted her knee to his shoulder, and thrust deep.

  She moaned his name and he did it again. And again. And again. Fast and hard. Until she was gripping his ass with one hand, the back of the couch with the other, and was gasping his name amidst the yeses and oh, gods.

  He felt her pussy squeezing around him and could tell she was climbing toward a hard orgasm. He angled his hips slightly, hit a spot that made her neck arch, and then she was coming apart around him.

  He let himself go. He drove deep and hard and let his orgasm thunder through him, grinding out her name between gritted teeth. It went on and on, and he let the pleasure shudder through him for long, delicious moments.

  Finally, Logan sucked in air, bracing his hand on the couch beside her, holding his weight up even as he stayed buried deep for nearly two minutes after the shock waves faded away. Eventually, he shifted back, letting her leg slide to the cushion.

  She lifted her lids and gave him a slow smile that was the sexies
t thing he’d ever seen.

  “This is all going to work out so well,” she told him.

  Yeah. It really was. It really, really was.

  4

  He really would have thought that the ghost fanatic would have been his biggest challenge. A little girl facing the death of her father and all that meant. The idea of an afterlife. The many questions about life and souls and how everything worked.

  As it turned out, twisting hair into a bun and securing it with bobby pins had been his downfall.

  It had taken seventeen tries, eleven bobby pins, three “Ow!”s and three “You’re doing it wrong!”s, not to mention four muttered cuss words. From him. But now Chloe’s hair was up and twisted—kind of—and she was wearing the green leotard, which had been the hardest one to find in the laundry room that looked like a tornado had gone through it, and she was on her way to her dance lesson.

  Ten minutes late.

  “We’re going to get better at this,” he told her as he shifted his truck into park and turned to look over the seat at the girls. “I promise.”

  Chloe glared at him as she slid off the seat to the ground. Just as her second foot touched the curb, a long strand of brown hair slipped from the sort of bun on top of her head and curled against her cheek. She blew out a frustrated breath and let her backpack drop to the ground. She reached up and began yanking bobby pins from her hair and throwing them onto the floor of his truck.

  “I’ll just wear a ponytail,” she said. “Even though everyone else will have their hair in a twist.”

  He watched, eyes wide, at a loss. When her hair was all down, she ran her fingers through it, pulled it back into a ponytail and then looked at him.

  She was clearly waiting for something. But he was clueless as to what.

  “Do you have something I can hold it with?” she asked, as if he was, well, clueless.

  “Like a rubber band?” He leaned over to open his glovebox, praying he had a rubber band, but ninety-nine percent sure he did not.

  And he was right.

  He also didn’t have any string or anything else helpful whatsoever. He sat back, frustrated. It was hair. This was not going to be his first failure at the helping-Dana-out thing. His gaze landed on his shoe and he had a revelation. He bent, untied the shoe, pulled the shoestring from the holes and handed it over.