Easy Love (Boudreaux 1)

“Thank you.”

“Your dinners,” Joe announces, as he places our entrées before us. Dinner is delicious and filling, and when Eli suggests that we take a longer walking route back to his place, I readily agree.

I need to work off some of this food.

“Oh, look at this gallery,” I breathe, and stop at a window with canvasses full of black trees and colorful leaves and backgrounds. They look almost…weepy. “I love this one with the yellows, golds, and oranges.” I point to the one that has caught my eye. “It reminds me of Denver in the fall.”

“Hmm,” Eli murmurs and kisses my cheek before leading me further up the block. We stop several more times to admire window displays, walking slowly, hand-in-hand, laughing and talking.

Enjoying.

Did I ever honestly think this man was intimidating? Cold? Distant? It’s amazing to me the difference in him from when I first walked into his office to that same man walking next to me tonight.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” he asks quietly, his accent thicker, perfect for this lazy, easy moment.

“Nothing.”

“Now, that’s a lie,” he replies with a soft smile. “I can hear your wheels turning.”

“I was thinking about you.” I squeeze his hand a little tighter, and then bring it up to nuzzle it with my cheek. “And that I’ll miss you when I leave.”

He grows quiet for a moment, not responding at all, and then he surprises me.

“I’ve enjoyed every moment with you, Mary Katherine O’Shaughnessy,” he says, making me smile at the way he says my last name with his accent. “You are a special woman.”

We’re standing in front of his townhouse now. Based on his last statements, I’m wondering if he’s not saying goodbye.

“Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“No, cher, I’m not cutting our night short.” He leads me inside, up to the bedroom. “I just wanted to make sure I told you how much I’ve enjoyed you, in case I don’t have enough blood supply to my brain later and I forget.”

“Definitely charming,” I laugh. Eli’s phone rings, making him frown. He checks the display, dismisses the call, and sets his phone aside.

“I do believe I’d like to pamper you a bit this evening,” he says, as he slowly saunters toward me.

“How so?” I ask, feeling a bit breathless at the look in his eyes, the way his body moves so effortlessly, his muscles bunching and moving beneath his smooth skin.

He’s simply delicious.

“Well, I’ll begin by slowly taking this dress off of you,” he whispers. He’s pressed against me now, his arms around me as he lowers the zipper on my back, pushes the black fabric off my shoulders, and watches it fall to my ankles. “You pulled the leopard print back out,” he says with a cocked brow.

“You seemed to like it.” I swallow at the hot look in his eyes as they lazily roam up and down my body.

“I didn’t realize there was a matching bra.”

“Of course there’s a matching bra,” I reply dryly. “There’s always a matching bra.”

“I do love your taste in underwear,” he says, just before he hooks his fingers in the straps on my shoulders and tugs them aside, then lays his lips on my skin, kissing me gently all the way to the ball of my shoulder. He pays the same attention to the other side, just as his phone rings again.

“You should answer it,” I whisper in his ear, then kiss him, just below his earlobe, on that soft skin that feels so good on my lips.

“No.”

“It could be important.”

He shakes his head and unhooks my bra in the back; his fingertips drag over my skin as he pulls it down my arms, then lets it fall. I tug his shirt out of his pants, then slide my hands up his stomach, over his smooth, warm skin.

God, I love touching him.

“This is supposed to be about you,” he whispers against my collarbone.

“It is,” I reply softly. “Touching you makes me happy.”

He pauses, and then kisses me, right over my heart.

Tell him! My mind screams. Tell him you love him and you don’t want to leave!

“Eli.”

His phone rings again, and we both moan in frustration, but he ignores it.

“Eli, you really should answer it.”

“Fuck no,” he replies stubbornly. “Whoever it is can fuck off.”

I slide my hands down the back of his pants and grip onto his very firm, very fine butt.

“I like your butt,” I whisper, making him laugh.

“I’m glad you do,” he says.

“I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” I say, just as my own phone rings. Our eyes meet and wait, and sure enough, as soon as mine stops, his starts. “Seriously. Answer. Something is wrong.”

He swears and stalks over to his phone. “What.” He frowns as he listens. “Are you sure?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, then scrubs his hand over his mouth in agitation. “Fine. I said fine, Beau. I’ll be there in twenty.”

He clicks off and turns to me with regret and anger written all over his face.

“You have to go.”

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

I laugh and shake my head, then cross to him and simply wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. “It’s okay, Eli.”

“I swear, I’ll be back in an hour. Two tops.” He braces his hands on my shoulders and sets me away from him. “Take a hot bath, drink a glass of wine, relax. I’ll come back and we’ll pick this back up.”

“Okay.” I grin and kiss his chin, then his lips. “I’ll go back over to my place and finish up a few things, so I don’t have to do them in the morning. It’ll buy me ten more minutes of sleep.”

“I’ll come get you when I get back,” he promises, kisses me once more, hard and long, then tucks his shirt back in, grabs his keys and wallet, and rushes out. I take my time pulling my dress back on, not bothering with the bra, and walk over to my own flat.

Once I’ve finished gathering the last few things for tomorrow morning, sure that I’m ready for my flight, I take a hot shower, shave my legs, again, because really, you can never have legs that are too smooth, and decide to wear the pretty red nightie that Eli admired the other day.

He did ask nicely, after all.

I check the time on my phone, frowning when I realize he’s been gone for over an hour. Should I go to bed and let him wake me up when he gets back?