by Meghan March
“You’re beautiful. I just thought you should know.”
“Guys aren’t beautiful, cupcake.”
“That’s not true, because some definitely are. You’re one of them.”
He shook his head. “Goofball. You want to shower here again? I did throw your clothes in the wash before I climbed in bed. They shouldn’t take too long to dry. I’ll run down and grab donuts and coffee, and you can wait up here.”
“You’re . . . not going to tell Fabienne I spent the night, are you?”
A hard mask slipped over his features. “Why would I tell her?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . She’s my new boss and I’m still working on making a good impression. I don’t want her to think I took the job just so I would see you. Never mind. I’m not making any sense. Forget I said anything.”
Confusion flashed in his expression before it softened. “I wouldn’t say anything to your boss you didn’t want me to say. For the record, Fabienne wouldn’t care about anything other than the fact that I’ll be coming into the shop even more now, anyway.”
Because he wants to see me?
The implication hung there, but I didn’t ask to confirm.
Bishop didn’t stick around to offer a confirmation either. He turned and walked toward the dresser, and it finally dawned on me that he was wearing boxer briefs.
But . . . “You don’t wear underwear normally.”
He swung his head around to look at me. “Is that right?”
“Well, at least not the night you came in the pool, or last night.”
His gaze never left mine. “You making a study of my habits?”
I shrugged. “Not on purpose.”
He winked. “Don’t worry, cupcake. I remember every damn thing I learn about you too.”
Mardi Gras was a blur of lattes, cappuccinos, double and quadruple shots of espresso, and thousands of donuts. Basically, a second-day trial by fire. Thankfully, Voodoo Ink was closing early tonight, and so was Your Favorite Hole.
Every time the door chimed, my gaze cut to it, wondering if Bishop would finally come in. Fabienne had mentioned offhand that he’d been in for his morning fix, which meant if he stayed with his routine, he’d also be coming in for his afternoon caffeine pick-me-up.
For the first time in my life, I was going to ask a guy out. Did it matter that we’d already technically spent the night together? No. That actually made it harder and more awkward in my opinion.
Another rush of costumed people filled the shop. Orders for donuts were shouted to Fabienne and Ellie, and they marked coffee orders on cups and lined them up near me. If things got too backed up, Fabienne would jump in and help, but I was busting my butt to keep up by making three drinks at a time.
My anxiety rose with each hour that slipped by without him making an appearance. I wanted to do this in person, not via text. My eyes scanned the next cup in line and I froze.
Quadruple-shot non-fat latte with cinnamon on top.
Delilah’s regular.
My gaze immediately jumped to customers waiting in front of the espresso bar, and I found him watching me. His lips curved just the slightest bit, and mine did the same.
“Hi.” My tone was quiet but cheerful as I refilled portafilters and snapped them into place to make the espresso. He already held his tall coffee, so I assumed he was just waiting for Delilah’s.
He nodded and watched me make the drink. I forced a shot of confidence into my veins so I didn’t screw it up somehow.
When I was finished sprinkling on the cinnamon, I snapped the lid on top and slid it across the counter.
With a deep breath, I went for it. “So, I was thinking maybe tonight you might want to, if you weren’t already busy—”
He interrupted my already botched attempt at asking him out. “I’ll be here at seven to walk you home.”
My hopes plummeted because I didn’t want to go home while Mardi Gras raged on outside my windows. This entire town was celebrating tonight, and I wanted to be part of it.
“But—”
“You’re gonna shower and change into a dress, and then we’re gonna work on your list tonight.”
My protests died on my lips, and I smiled.
“We are?”
He nodded.
“And that requires me wearing a dress?”
The barely there smile widened infinitesimally and his eyes flashed with heat. “That’s for me. Skip the panties. I’ll see you at seven.”
He wrapped a big hand around Delilah’s coffee cup before giving me a chin lift and walking out of the crowded shop with a bag of donuts under his arm.
Seven o’clock. Bishop was going to walk me home, and I was going to shower and change into a dress and we were going to work on my list.
And I wasn’t going to be wearing any panties.
Holy. Shit.
EVEN IN HER POLO SHIRT and jeans, Eden attracted looks on the walk back to her place from Your Favorite Hole. She stood out like a beacon in the crowd of women dressed for attention without even trying.
As usual, she was completely oblivious to the fact that she was gorgeous. It wasn’t just her blond hair, pulled up in a messy bun, or her shining brown eyes or fucking kissable lips. No, it was the energy that surrounded her. Happy, positive, and practically vibrating with excitement about life. People were drawn to her as we walked by them.
And then there was me, following her like a big, hulking shadow with a look that said keep the fuck back if you want to live. More than one guy had opened his mouth or reached out only to shut up or snatch a hand back. I gave them a hard stare and kept moving. Eden didn’t even notice what was happening.
The crowds thinned out as we turned the corner onto her street.
“That is just crazy. I’ve never seen so many people packed on that street.”
“It’s like this every year, from what I’m told.”
We stopped in front of the gate and Eden pulled the keys from her purse. “Haven’t you ever come down here on Mardi Gras before?”
“I’ve only been here a few years, and I’ve never been much for crowds, so I stayed away.”
She fit the key into the lock and turned it, and I pushed open the gate.
“You never wanted to toss beads on Bourbon?” she asked as we stepped inside.
I shut the gate behind us. “Some guys don’t need beads to see tits.”
She swung her head around as we walked down the brick path leading into the courtyard. “Oh yeah, I forgot I’m talking to the guy who can’t beat the girls away fast enough as they throw themselves at you.”
“What you forgot is that I’ve never cared to see any of them.”
“Riiiight.” Eden stretched out the word as she climbed the spiral staircase in front of me before unlocking the door and stepping into her small apartment.
That’s when I pounced, following her inside, shutting the door, and pinning her to the back of it.
Eden’s lips parted and her eyes went wide as she stared up at me.
“You were the first one to walk into Voodoo who I didn’t want to see walk out. If I could’ve, I would’ve dragged you up to my apartment and stripped you naked and tossed you onto my bed.”
“Then why did you wait so long to touch me?” Her words came out breathy.
“Because some things are worth waiting for, and you’re one of them.”
“Why are you still waiting?”
“I’m not. I’m savoring.” My lips lowered to hers and I covered her mouth before she could reply. When my tongue traced the seam, she let me in, and I took advantage. “You taste so fucking sweet. Sweeter than I should be allowed to have in this life.”
“Shut up and kiss me.” Eden’s hands found their way into my hair, and she tugged my face down closer so she could kiss me back.
As much as I wanted to lift her into my arms and carry her to her bed, I wanted to give her more than just that. I wanted her to have everything she’d ever wanted, which meant everything
on her list.
When I pulled away, her eyes were clouded and hazy. “Why are you stopping?”
“Because you’re putting on a dress and we’re working on your list.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, cupcake. I’m going to taste you every chance I get tonight, and my cock will be buried inside you before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
With that promise hanging in the air, I took another step back, and her gaze dropped to the fly of my jeans.
“I could—”
The thought of her mouth on my cock had it surging against the zipper so hard, I thought it might bust free.
“I know you could wreck me again with that sweet mouth, but not right now. Go get in the shower. Don’t touch yourself either. I want you just as needy as you are right now, because I just decided we’re adding a new spin to your list. Everywhere we go to check something off, we’re going to give you a whole different sort of experience too.”
“What do you mean?” Even though her question was quiet, I knew she was intrigued.
“It means that if we’re sliding into a booth to eat, I might finger that tight little pussy and play with your clit until you come. Or if we’re getting a drink at Pat O’Brien’s, I might drag you off to a supply closet, and you can wrap those sweet lips around my cock.”
I didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger as I explained.
“You down with that? You wanna get dirty in NOLA, cupcake?”
“Yes.” The shock faded and daring took its place.
That’s my girl, I thought. And I realized that’s exactly how I thought of her—as mine.
Except I had no idea whether I’d get to keep her or not.
But tonight, I’d do my best to make her as addicted to me as I was to her.
I COULD SWEAR EVEN MY skin vibrated as I stepped into the shower and hurried through my routine. I’d never been so turned on in my life than I was when Bishop was telling me about this new aspect he was weaving into my list.
You wanna get dirty in NOLA, cupcake?
With him? Absolutely. I wanted it more than anything. I was already dying to know how he was going to feel inside me, and now he promised I wouldn’t have to wait long.
Tonight was the night.
I shaved every inch of skin that could possibly need to be shaved, and scrubbed the scent of donuts and coffee from my body and hair. When my fingers dragged over my pussy to make sure I hadn’t missed any stray hairs, my clit flared to life and I stifled a moan. I was tempted to keep circling it until I came.
What would he do? Come in and spank me for being a naughty girl and getting myself off in the shower?
“You better not be playing with that pussy in there, cupcake. I’ll see it on your face when you come out.”
Really? How could he possibly know that? His timing was unfairly ridiculous and accurate.
“I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about,” I yelled from the shower, although it was unnecessary. With an apartment as tiny as mine, you barely had to breathe to be heard in the next room.
“Yeah, you do.”
“I’ll be out in a second.”
When I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, I peeked out of the bathroom door and Bishop was there watching me.
“Are you wet, cupcake?”
“Well, I just got out of the—”
“No, your pussy. The one you were touching while you were in the shower after I told you not to.”
Heat bloomed on my cheeks, but I wanted him to know the truth. “Yes, but I only bumped my clit. I didn’t even make myself come.”
“I’m gonna have to check for myself, I think.”
He reached under my towel and skimmed the back of his knuckle along my slit.
“Fucking soaked.” He groaned as he pressed just hard enough to slide his finger between my pussy lips.
My legs trembled, and I reached out a hand to press against his chest to brace myself. I don’t know what to call the sound I made, but it was somewhere between a moan and a cry for more.
Bishop kept stroking.
“You make yourself come a lot in the shower?”
My voice shook when I answered. “Sometimes . . .”
He straightened his finger and circled my clit. “Do you picture me while you do it? Say my name when you come?”
I leaned into his touch, wanting more pressure, but Bishop pulled away as I pressed closer.
“Answer me, cupcake.”
On a moan, I replied, “Maybe.”
Bishop pressed hard against my clit, and I could feel the orgasm rising. But he didn’t let me have it. He pulled his hand away and sucked his finger clean.
“But—”
“Greedy girl with your wet little pussy. Get dressed before I change my mind and never let you out of your bed for the next twenty-four hours.”
I stared at him. “How is that a threat?”
Bishop chuckled darkly. “Go, now.”
When we stepped out of my apartment, anticipation thrummed through me, along with need that wouldn’t quiet. It had taken everything I had not to get myself off in the bedroom after he’d brought me so close. But I had a feeling he’d make me pay for that somehow.
The sounds of a city partying its hardest came from every direction in the French Quarter, and it seemed every balcony was full. I’d opted for the teal dress and black ballet flats, and had dried my hair and applied makeup faster than I ever had before.
Bishop’s appreciative gaze told me I’d done just fine. His words confirmed it.
“You’re a class act, cupcake. And you’re all fucking mine tonight.”
As much as I loved that, a feeling of disappointment threaded through the excitement. Tonight was all well and good, but what if I wanted more than just tonight?
I pushed away the thought and decided to focus on having fun and checking off as many items on my Must Do list as I could. I was here to live in the moment, not worry about what was going to happen tomorrow. For all I knew, I could get a message telling me to get my ass back to New York.
I pinned a bright smile to my face and followed Bishop. “Where are we going?”
I expected him to say something about crawfish for dinner or maybe the casino for blackjack, but instead he shocked me.
“First, we’re gonna get you some beads.”
“We’re what?”
Bishop threaded his hand through mine and pulled me toward the corner. “Going to Bourbon Street.”
“It’s a madhouse out there.”
“And you’ve got your own personal security, so don’t worry. Besides, you wanted a hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s and we’re gonna knock that one off too.”
“On Mardi Gras? Are you crazy?” After a few days in New Orleans, I realized how ridiculous it would be to try to knock off any of my list during Mardi Gras. It was the busiest time of the year, and we’d have to wait hours to even try to get into the bar.
“Let me worry about that.” He glanced down at me with a grin. “You forget, I might not be the most social guy on the planet, but I know a fuck-ton of people. Who do you think Con turned over all his clients to when he stepped away from the business? Who do you think they keep coming back to?”
“You, I’m assuming.”
“Which means I know a big chunk of the Quarter. So you let me worry about making things happen.”
“Okay, big guy. Whatever you say.”
He looked down at me. “Don’t believe me?”
I shrugged playfully. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see if you can deliver.”
I spun in a circle, and the skirt of my dress flared.
Bishop grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. “You better watch it. No one gets to see that sweet little ass but me.”
One hand covered my left cheek and squeezed. I bit my lip, and he shook his head.
“Naughty little thing. You’ll pay for that. And, cupcake? I always deliver.”
He rel
eased me with another squeeze and I shivered with excitement.
I stayed beside Bishop until we reached the police barricades that barely held in the partiers on Bourbon, and then he released my hand and wrapped an arm around my waist loosely.
“You’re gonna walk ahead of me, and I’ll tell you where we’re going.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to follow you?” I yelled over the din.
“I can’t see you if you’re behind me. If someone grabs you or you get pulled away, my reaction time is slower. If you’re in front of me, no one is going to touch you because they’re gonna see me and know I’m what they’ll have to deal with. And if someone does, they won’t be able to do much before I grab ’em by the throat and take care of them.”
His explanation made sense, and I walked as he directed me through the crowd. I was concentrating on the ground and the people right in front of where I was walking, but Bishop spoke into my ear.
“Look up, cupcake. This is what you wanted to experience.”
I looked up as he turned me in a circle in the middle of the heart of Bourbon Street. I soaked up every sound, smell, and sight, tucking them away to remember someday soon. Bishop pointed up, and I followed his arm to see a woman in a purple, green, and gold tutu standing on a balcony with her gold bra barely concealing her large boobs. She threw beads every which way.
“That’s where you’re getting your beads.”
“How—”
But I should have known Bishop already had a plan. He grabbed both of my hands and lifted them into the air and let out the loudest wolf whistle I’d ever heard. It got the woman’s attention and she bounced on the balcony, hands full of beads waving back and forth.
“Do you know her?” I yelled.
“Nope.”
But it didn’t matter because she flung a handful of beads right toward us, and I pushed up onto my tiptoes and caught two strands as they flew our way.
Bishop caught four more, and turned me to face him in the middle of the street before lowering each necklace over my head. As he released each one, he pressed a kiss to my cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally my lips.
I wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer to take the kiss deeper.
