Easy Melody

  “Stadium?” I ask.

  “The Superdome,” he says with a shrug. “The Saints are playing tonight, and my family has season tickets.”

  I simply blink at him for several seconds before my heart skips into overdrive.

  “You’re taking me to a football game?”

  “Do you hate football?” he asks and cringes. “I’m sorry, we can just go to dinner or anything else you might want to do.”

  “I love football,” I reply honestly. “I had season tickets to all of the Denver games when I lived there.”

  “Perfect.” He looks over my shoulder at Adam and frowns. “Dude, you’re naked.”

  “I’m wearing pants.” Adam looks down and shrugs. “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”

  “Nothing at all, if you’re Christian Grey,” I reply and roll my eyes. “Bye.”

  “Are you going to wear those shoes?” Adam asks. “You’re going to a football game.”

  “Yes. I am.” I wave and walk out ahead of Declan, who closes the door behind us and escorts me down to his car. “I expected you to drive something a little more… posh.” I watch him as he starts the car and pulls out into traffic.

  “Why?” he asks and takes my hand as he maneuvers his way through the after-work rush. I stare down at our hands and briefly think about pulling away, but his hand feels so good around mine, I leave it.

  What’s the harm?

  “I know who your family is, Declan.”

  “It’s a big family. Hard to miss.”

  I roll my eyes and then chuckle. “So, Declan Boudreaux, the youngest son of a billionaire, drives a Jeep?”

  “And a fancy bar owner drives a ’68 Camaro.” He laughs and squeezes my hand. “Aren’t we both just full of surprises.”

  “I didn’t mean that to sound insulting,” I reply. “I was just surprised.”

  “I leave the Bentleys and Maseratis to Beau and Eli.”

  “They drive Bentleys?” I ask and then shake my head when he laughs.

  “No. Mama and Daddy always had sensible cars. I like my Jeep. It’s fun.”

  “I like it too,” I reply, feeling a little embarrassed for the whole conversation.

  “How did you come to own your car?” he asks with genuine interest. “She’s a beauty.”

  “It was a gift.” From Keith. Declan glances over, but doesn’t press me, and rather than shut up, I keep going. “My ex bought it for me for my last birthday. I was raised by my dad, and I was an only child, so I have a thing for cars and football.”

  “Those aren’t bad things to enjoy at all, darlin’,” Declan says with a smile. Rather than rolling his eyes, or accusing me of not being feminine enough the way Keith used to, Declan just smiles at me, accepting me for me.

  I haven’t felt that from a man in a very long time. I can feel my guard lowering more and more with Declan and it’s exciting and scary all at the same time. He’s so laid back, easy going, easy to talk to.

  When’s the other shoe going to drop?

  Stop worrying!

  “So your daddy raised you?” he asks as he takes the exit for the Superdome.

  “Yes. It was just the two of us. My mom passed away when I was about eight.” I shrug, the way I always do to make it seem like it’s no big deal.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Doesn’t make it hurt less,” he murmurs and kisses my hand. He finds parking, but before I can climb out, he turns toward me and cups my cheek. “I’m also sorry that you lost your daddy a few months ago. I didn’t have a chance to say that before.”

  I blink at him, willing myself not to cry. Who is this guy?

  “Thank you.”

  “Losing a parent is hard, but I can’t imagine losing both of them.”

  “I’m doing okay.”

  “You’re doing better than okay, Callie. And you should be proud of that.” He leans in and places a soft, gentle kiss on my lips, then leans back with a wide smile. “Okay, let’s go watch some ball.”

  ***

  “What are you, blind?” I yell at the ref hands cupped around my mouth. “He was off-sides!”

  “Why are you cheering for the Lions?” Declan asks with a laugh.

  “I always cheer for the underdog,” I reply and sip my beer as he passes me a plastic bowl of nachos. “Yum.”

  “See? I promised you dinner and I delivered.”

  “You did.” I nod as I chew the cheesy goodness, not even trying to worry about all of the preservatives in what I’m throwing down my throat. “I love game food.”

  “Me too. Who is your favorite team?”

  “The Seahawks.” I grin and steal a bite of Declan’s hotdog, then hold a cheesy chip up to his lips, which he takes and licks my thumb at the same time.

  My nipples are rock hard at a football game. That’s a first.

  “I thought you always cheer for the underdog.”

  “They’ve done well the past few years,” I concede, “but they were the underdogs for a long time.”

  “Have you seen them play?”

  “In Denver, but never in Seattle. I’ve never been to Seattle, now that I think of it.”

  We sit in companionable silence for a while, watching the game, eating our food. Suddenly, Declan leans down and kisses me, hard and deep, right here in the middle of the stadium.

  “What was that for?”

  “Kiss cam,” he replies simply and steals my last chip. I glance up, but there is no kiss cam being displayed. “There’s no kiss cam.”

  “I could have sworn there was. My mistake.” He grins, in that way he has that says that he knows he’s sexy and charming and doesn’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks.

  God, I love that look.

  “I really do love what you’ve done with the bar,” Declan says, serious now.

  “Thank you. It took all of my savings, and what I couldn’t afford to hire out, I did myself.”

  “Really?” He turns to me, very interested now.

  “Yep. I had a good side business in Denver of buying and flipping houses. You make more money if you’re able to do some of the work yourself.” The Lions make a touchdown and I turn to Dec for a high five, but he just leans in and kisses me again. “What was that for?”

  “We’re having a good time, and I enjoy the fact that you know football, but you’re not my buddy, Callie. You’re my date.”

  I blink twice, then lean in and kiss him back. “Point made.”

  “Good.” He rubs his nose over mine, then pulls back and dives back into the conversation. “You should see the house I’m renovating.”

  “Wait, what?” I shake my head to clear the kissing cobwebs out of the way. “You’re renovating?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I bought a big ol’ house in the Garden District last year, and I’ve been slowly fixin’ it up.”

  “How old?”

  “Built in 1884,” he replies easily. “Hasn’t had much work done in the past fifty years to speak of, so it’s been quite the project.”

  “I want to see it.” Did I just blurt that out? Jesus, Callie, show a little bit of decorum for Godsake.

  But Declan just smiles and leans back in to me. I love the way this man leans. He can lean all damn day. “I’d like to show it to you.”

  The buzzer pierces the air, signaling the end of the game. The mass of people around us stands and moves toward the exits, but Declan and I just stay where we are, pressed against each other.

  Because of all the people. We’re pressed together because of all of the people around us.

  Yeah, right, and New Orleans is in the desert.

  I drag my fingers down his cheek and watch his eyes go almost gold with heat. He isn’t the first man I’ve dated since moving back to New Orleans, but he’s the first that I’ve felt any kind of chemistry with. He’s the first who’s actually turned my head, made me smile.

  Made my body come to life.

  “Will you please show me y
our house tonight?”

  “Whatever the lady wants,” he murmurs.

  ***

  “I’m warning you now, some of it’s done, but most of it has a long way to go,” Declan says as he unlocks the door and leads me inside the enormous plantation-style home in the heart of the Garden District. I love this old neighborhood. When I was a teenager, I’d walk up and down the streets here, admiring the homes.

  “Perfect,” I reply honestly. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  We walk into a wide foyer with a double staircase on either side. The floors are dark walnut and polished.

  He’s already redone the floors down here, and he’s done them perfectly.

  “I sanded and varnished the floors myself,” he says proudly.

  “Original?” I ask as I follow him through to a beautiful living area with a fireplace almost as tall as I am.

  “Yes, or most of it. Some boards here and there had to be replaced, but I had them matched to the original.”

  “This mantle is gorgeous,” I breathe, running my hand over the smooth marble.

  “It’s original. I was shocked that it wasn’t cracked or broken.”

  I nod and follow behind as he leads me into a library, turning on lights as we go. As with the other rooms, the ceilings are high and bookcases rise from floor to ceiling, all covered with white sheets.

  “I haven’t done anything in here yet,” he admits.

  “Are there books on those shelves?”

  “Yes.” He turns to me and grins. “Also original.”

  I gasp. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, the bookcases were full when I bought the place. It had stood empty for about ten years, the former owners had died, and no one wanted them, so they were left here.”

  God, I want to get my hands on this place. I can picture the furniture, the molding, the rugs I’d place in here.

  Next, he leads me through an empty formal living room with horrid, peeling wallpaper, to a brand new state of the art kitchen.

  “You didn’t go crazy in here,” I sigh in relief.

  “No. I wanted all of the modern comforts, but I wanted it to blend with the style.”

  I can’t help it. I grip his shirt in my fists and pull him in for a long, deep, thorough kiss. My lips explore every inch of his, biting, licking, and when I pull away, his eyes are glassy. He licks his lips, still tasting me on them I’m sure, and grins.

  “What was that for?”

  “This is all very sexy,” I reply truthfully.

  “Wait till you see me in a tool belt, darlin’.”

  I. Can’t. Even.

  I take a deep breath and have to turn away from him, wander around the kitchen, exploring the double ovens and hidden pantry. The cabinets are white, the countertops light grey granite, and the walls are painted one shade darker than the counters.

  I could cook some amazing meals in here.

  “This space used to be much smaller,” he says as he watches me wander around. “I knocked out the wall that led to the butler’s pantry and made the kitchen bigger.”

  “No butler?” I ask with a smirk.

  He simply shakes his head slowly no, his arms folded over his chest, his legs spread, standing tall and sturdy.

  I’m not leaving here tonight. And I don’t care if it’s a first date. I want him.

  God, I want him. But he doesn’t need to know that quite yet.

  “What else is down here?”

  “A guest room and bathroom that I haven’t touched yet,” he says as he leads me to them, and I can just picture the room in my head when it’s finished. Widen the window, add a stand-up shower where a broken claw foot tub was.

  It’s simply amazing.

  Next, he leads me upstairs.

  “How many bedrooms are up here?” I ask as I watch his ass, not two feet away from my face, and it suddenly occurs to me that this was his view the other night when I led him up to the roof at the bar.

  Thank God I was wearing the shorts that show off my ass nicely.

  “Six,” he replies. “Four bathrooms. But I’m going to make it four bedrooms. The master is small, with no closet to speak of, so I’m going to open it up to the bedrooms on either side of it, add a closet and make the bathroom bigger.”

  I’m moving ahead of him now, opening doors, exploring the second floor like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Is there a third floor?”

  “It’s attic space, or was.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I was thinking theater room and game room.”

  I grin, nodding. “That would be so great.”

  “You approve?”

  “I do. Not that it’s mine to approve of, but yes, I love it. What’s in the room behind you?”

  “My room,” he says simply, then cradles my face in his hands and looks me dead in the eyes. “And if we go in there, we’re not coming out until morning.”

  Thank God.

  “What if I get thirsty?” I whisper, watching his lips as they quirk up into a half smile.

  “Unless you’re thirsty,” he amends. “Callie, I want you in my bed, naked and moaning beneath me, but I’m not one for rushing things.”

  Hearing those words, in that growly sexy voice of his, has my panties soaked.

  If I wore panties. Which I don’t.

  “I don’t feel rushed,” I reply and push my hands under his shirt. His skin is smooth and warm under my fingers, and all I can think is, give me more.

  “I didn’t bring condoms,” I whisper.

  “I have that covered,” he whispers back.

  He brushes his fingertips down my face, then he pushes his fingers into my hair at the back of my head and tips his forehead against mine. “I’m going to fuck you like no one else ever has.”

  I simply smile, reach behind him and open the door, and walk in with him, our bodies almost touching, our lips only millimeters apart. We’re already panting. His eyes are blazing, and I couldn’t look away from them if I tried.

  “Wanna look around?” he asks.

  “Later.” I guide his shirt up over his head and drop it to the floor, then take my sweet time letting my hands graze over his muscled torso. “I’d rather check you out for now.”

  “Not complaining here, darlin’,” he drawls. So, when he’s turned on, his accent is about twenty times stronger.

  So noted.

  His hands are balled into fists at his side and he simply watches me as I explore him, tracing a tattoo on his shoulder with my fingertip, then dipping into the crevices of his biceps.

  God, he’s ripped.

  “How does a musician stay in such good shape?” I whisper.

  “Martial arts,” he replies. “I’m having a hard time not touching you right now, sugar.”

  “I never said you couldn’t touch me,” I reply and place an open-mouthed kiss over his left pec and down to his stomach. “Your abs should be illegal.”

  “I’ll call the cops.”

  I grin, then lick a circle around his navel and down the faintest trail of hair that disappears into his jeans.

  “I thought these were a myth,” I say as I trace the V in his hips with my fingers, and suddenly, I’m lifted into the air and being carried to the bed. “Didn’t like that?”

  “I want a turn,” he replies. All humor is gone from his voice, but the heat hasn’t left his eyes. “I need to get you naked.”

  He sits me on the bed and lifts my blouse over my head. Since I’m eye-level with his cock, and I can see that it’s straining against his jeans, I reach up and unfasten them, then guide them down his hips.

  “You don’t wear underwear either?”

  “Either?”

  I look up at him through my lashes and send him a coy grin. “Either.”

  “That’s it.” We’re a tangle of fabric and limbs as we strip each other down, throwing clothes haphazardly around the room. Finally, we’re facing each other, completely naked, and I can’t ta
ke my eyes off of him.

  “You know that movie with Emma Stone and Ryan Gossling, where he takes her home and she makes him take off his shirt, and she says he looks like he’s photoshopped?” Why am I talking so damn fast?

  “I don’t know,” he replies, his eyes roaming over me, as if he doesn’t know what he should look at first.

  “Well, you look like you’re photoshopped. Seriously, Declan, your body is…” I can’t finish the statement. I can only swallow and blink, and when my gaze finds his again, he’s advancing toward me. But rather than the mutual attack and scramble to make it go fast that I’m expecting, he guides me back on the bed, climbing over me, and rests his cock against my center as he covers me and brushes stray hairs from my face.

  “You’re stunning.” His lips nibble mine while his eyes watch me. “I want to make you moan.” He kisses his way down my neck, to my collarbone. “Call out my name.” Takes my nipple into his mouth and tugs with his teeth. “Come so hard you don’t know what day it is.”

  “I don’t know what day it is,” I reply and plunge my hands in his hair, reveling in how soft it is. He licks down to my navel, then farther down still and I can’t help but fist my hands, tugging on his hair, but not wanting him to stop. “I like the little bit of hair you keep here,” he murmurs, brushing his nose over it, then sinks even farther and licks me from labia to clit, and back down again, making my back arch right up off the bed.

  “Holy fuck!”

  “Mmmm,” he agrees as he latches onto my lips and sucks, while simultaneously plunging his tongue inside me. Dear sweet God, he’s good with his mouth.

  “Declan!”

  “That’s right, Calliope, what’s my name?”

  “Declan.”

  My head is thrashing back and forth as he resumes fucking me with his mouth and plants the pad of his thumb against my clit, and I see stars. I’m pretty sure that’s my voice crying out as I fall apart, coming harder than I can remember coming before. I can barely feel Declan kissing his way up my body, pausing here and there to bite me gently, which only sends more shivers through me, until he’s finally braced over me.

  “How was that first one?”

  “First one what?” I mumble. His lips twitch as he lowers himself to rest his lips on mine, and I can smell and taste myself.