He could practically taste her on his tongue, but didn’t she deserve better than him? Someone who could offer her a pretty future, not just a few fucking-amazing hours between the sheets? While Travis deliberated more than he ever had in his life about a woman, Billie got out her key and unlocked the gate into the gallery. It squeaked as she opened it. Baxter shot inside, no doubt to wash his dirty mouth in the fountain like Travis had seen him do a couple of times already.
“You coming?” she asked, her eyes wide open as she looked back at him still lingering on the sidewalk.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and swallowed. She looked so damn lovely standing there in the doorway, the few security lights of the gallery flickering behind her. There was just something special about her. She was so different from the women he usually used to scratch his itch, yet it was obvious what she was offering him and every red blood cell in his body wanted part of that.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said, unable to believe his own ears.
She frowned slightly, and then sighed. “That’s a pity, because I was hoping you might kiss me again.”
“Jesus.” He groaned, her sweetly suggestive words making his cock physically ache. “Billie, I’m not a good person to get entangled with. Wasn’t tonight evidence enough of that?” He thought of what it would do to him if the Ministry so much as came near her again. “There’s shit going down, and it’s better you stay away from me.”
Most women listened to him, but Billie didn’t heed his warning. Instead, she took a couple of steps, closing the distance between them and joining him once again on the sidewalk. She stood right in front of him, so close he could smell her intoxicating strawberry shampoo or whatever the hell it was, and looked up into his eyes. “Travis, let me be the judge of what’s good for me.”
And then, she leaned up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his mouth.
Chapter 7
Every ounce of common sense Billie possessed told her she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t help herself. Her resolve to stay away from Travis Sinclair had well and truly snapped. It was the middle of the night and she was standing outside the gallery on the sidewalk of Bourbon Street, her tongue down a near-stranger’s throat, her insides trembling with raw need and desire, and she felt better, more alive, than she’d ever felt before. She’d known him less than three days but for some insane reason, he didn’t feel like a stranger.
Maybe it was the illusion of friendship they’d formed, talking and sharing beignets until they’d been rudely interrupted; she didn’t know. But what she did know was that despite the tough-guy act he put on most of the time, despite his association with the Deacons, he wasn’t like those Ministry guys. They’d looked at him like they wanted to kill him and her like she was a piece of pie they wanted to devour in one gulp, yet despite being one against five, he hadn’t stood by while they insulted her, and she respected that. It had been one thing fighting the attraction she felt to him when he was being a jackass, but now, when he’d given her a glimpse of the person he seemed to hide from the world, she was a goner.
All thoughts of the danger he might bring with him, and the fact that he was essentially an enemy who wanted to do something that would destroy her business, evaporated. She could worry about all that tomorrow. At that moment nothing felt more important than the yearning need he’d ignited inside her.
And, if the impressive erection she felt pressing against her belly was any indication, Travis needed this as much as she did.
“Billie,” he groaned, gripping her shoulders and snatching his mouth from hers. “Are you sure about this?” He sounded tortured, as if he were in physical pain. “Because if we cross this line, I’m not fucking stopping until we’re finished.”
Thank God for that. In reply, she slid her hand down his body and cupped his balls through the hard denim of his jeans. He sucked in a breath. Oh yeah, she’d never been more certain of anything in her life.
“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, desperate to have his mouth back on hers. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and show me you’re not all talk. Or maybe you can think of more creative uses for that mouth of yours.”
If he didn’t give her the release she needed soon, she’d explode.
He hesitated for all of two seconds and then said, “Let’s hope you don’t regret it.” His mouth found hers again and he kissed her hard, his hands coming down around her back and cupping her buttocks in their effort to drag her closer. As their tongues dueled, he pressed the hardness between his legs right into her and heat coiled low in her belly. She pushed herself even closer, loving the friction of her nipples rubbing against his solid chest, her panties already sopping wet.
He moved his hands from her butt and slid them up under her sweater, his hot fingers searing her bare skin as he ripped his mouth from hers and started trailing kisses down her neck. They weren’t like any kisses she’d had before—they were rough and demanding, as if he didn’t want to do this but couldn’t help himself. She guessed tomorrow morning she’d wake with his mark all over her skin, and the thought intoxicated her.
Then he closed his mouth over a nipple, soaking her sweater, and she lost her ability to think straight at all. She moaned and arched up into his mouth, all the nerve endings in her body feeling as if they’d been set alight. He sucked hard, his hands sliding up and down her bare back.
“I think it’s time to take this inside,” he muttered into her ear, and she was helpless to utter a response. Hell, she’d forgotten they were still outside on the sidewalk, making out for the viewing pleasure of all of Bourbon Street.
“Good idea,” she whispered as he grabbed her hand and started into the alley. He kicked the gate shut behind them, took two seconds to lock it—thank God someone still had the ability to think straight—and then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
She squealed in surprise, her breasts pressed against his back, her hands landing on his tight butt to steady herself. Damn, he felt good.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I met you,” he said as he strode toward the house. His confession turned her on almost as much as his mouth did. What other fantasies was he about to enact?
They charged into the house, Baxter trotting at Travis’s heels, and as they headed down the corridor for the bedrooms, she realized…this was it.
“We’re going to have sex,” she squeaked, not meaning to voice this thought aloud.
Travis chuckled and his grip on her legs tightened. “That’s the plan, baby.”
She was about to have sex for the first time since she’d walked out on her marriage. With a man who had no qualms about ruining her business and had a number of sketchy connections. Was she insane? Had Travis slipped something into her hot chocolate? How could she go from hating the man to practically throwing herself at him within a matter of hours? Her heart began to pound against Travis’s back, her mind warring with her raging hormones. Good conscience fighting bad.
“Your room or mine?” he asked, oblivious to the storm raging within her.
“Mine.” At least then she’d be a fraction in her comfort zone.
He arrived at her bedroom door and paused. “Time for you to go to bed elsewhere, Baxter,” Travis said, and Billie looked down at the little dog who had no clue what was going on. Join the club, she thought. I’ve lost the plot.