“I am,” I reply with a nod and make the motion again. I cup his balls in my other hand, massing all of him now, balls, shaft and head, and suddenly, he reaches down, pulls me to my feet and spins me around, pinning me against the wall.
His face is intense now, my playful man replaced by someone I’ve only recently found. He’s possessive. Intense.
And makes me instantly wet.
In the blink of an eye, he has my jeans unfastened and peeled off my legs, and he’s pinned my hands above my head with one of his larger ones.
“I never stop wanting you,” he says, his lips grazing over my mouth. “I want you everywhere, in any way I can have you.”
“You can have me anytime you want,” I reply and take his lip in my teeth, tugging hard.
His free hand slides between my legs. “This is mine, Calliope.” His fingers push through my wet lips and into my pussy as his thumb presses on my clit. “Mine.”
“Yours.”
“No one has ever wanted anything more than I want you,” he says and drags his lips down my jawline to my neck. My back arches as he nibbles on my sweet spot. Jesus, the things this man can do with just his hands and lips should be illegal in Louisiana.
But thank the good Lord they’re not.
“I want you just as much,” I reply, panting now as he drives me mad with that magical hand. Before I know it, I’m shattering into a million pieces, and the only thing keeping me upright is his body and hand, playing puppet with my pussy.
“Incredible,” he murmurs, nibbling at my lips. “Now it’s time to stop being lazy and get back to work.”
“You’re not going to fuck me?” I ask, surprised.
He smiles widely. “Disappointed?”
“No,” I lie, but he catches my chin in his fingers and lifts my gaze to his.
“No lying. Ever.”
“Not disappointed,” I reply. “Surprised.”
“Trust me, I’m going to fuck you later.”
***
It’s almost closing time. Adam’s out overseeing the cleanup, giving the servers direction while I sit in the office, staring at my dad’s ledgers.
I found them in a drawer that I hadn’t bothered to open before. They go all the way back to when he and Mom bought the place until the week he died. Dad always was old fashioned, so having a computer to keep these records in wouldn’t have occurred to him.
Every inventory entry is here, in his precise handwriting. As the years passed, and his drinking got worse, the entries are a little wobblier. It all seems pretty standard, except the amount of Chivas Regal Scotch he had on order every month.
A bottle will last me a month here in the bar, given how rare and expensive it is. Dad was ordering a case every month.
A mother fucking case.
I always knew that that was his drink of choice, and that he could go through quite a bit of it. I hate the smell of it. I used to have to rinse out buckets when he would throw up into them after drinking too much of the scotch.
I’ve never been a huge fan of math, but I go through and add up what he spent on it, from the time Mom died until the day he died, and feel more than a little sick to my stomach at the total.
My God, Dad.
Declan pokes his head around the doorjamb. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” I frown and close the ledger, then follow him out into the bar, where I look over the place, say goodnight to Adam, and lock up.
“Did you have a good night?” Declan asks and weaves his fingers with mine, keeping me close to his side.
“Mmm hmm,” I reply with a nod.
“What’s wrong?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I say and sigh. I don’t know what to say.
“No,” he says, pulling me to a stop on the sidewalk. “We are not having a repeat of last week. You told me that you need me to support you when you’ve had a rough day, and that’s what I’m trying to give you, but I need you to talk to me, sweetheart.”
“Okay.” I sigh and nod. “You’re right, but I need a minute to gather my thoughts.”
“That’s perfectly fine.” He kisses my hand and is quiet as he leads me the few blocks to my car. I’m so fucked up in the head right now. I’m so disappointed in my dad.
And I guess that’s a good place to start.
I stop us when we reach my car and face Declan. “I found my dad’s old ledgers tonight,” I begin. “I found them in a drawer I’d never bothered to look in before. I’m not sure why.” I frown at that, but shrug it off.
“He didn’t keep records on a computer?” he asks.
“No, he had hand-written ones. His records are complete, showing exactly what he ordered and when, how much he made, how much he paid his employees, everything.”
“Okay.”
“And I found out exactly how much whiskey he was drinking.” I shake my head. “My dad died of acute ethanol toxicity.”
“He killed his liver,” Declan replies with a sigh.
“He destroyed his liver. Dec, he was drinking a case a month.” I shake my head again, still not believing what I saw. “And it wasn’t the cheap stuff. No, my dad loved the Chivas Regal.”
“Jesus, he was drinking a case a month?” Declan asks, as shocked as I was.
“Every month, from the time my mom died until the week he died,” I confirm. “I did the math, Dec. He basically financed over one hundred and forty thousand dollars to kill himself. And when I saw it all, his handwriting, seeing how as the years passed the writing is more wobbly and unstable, I don’t know, I was just twelve years old all over again, and I could hear him, smell him, and I’m so fucking mad at him!
“But he’s dead. I can’t yell at him, or tell him how he made me feel for all of those years. I can’t tell him, Declan. I don’t know if I would even if I could, and even that pisses me off.”
“Hey,” Declan says and pulls me in against him, letting me cry the tears I didn’t even know had been falling down my cheeks against his chest. “You don’t have to do this alone, Callie. That’s what I’m here for.”
“I just didn’t know what to say because it messes me up, and that surprised me. I thought I was better. I was gone for so long that I didn’t have to be reminded like this, and it just surprised me.”
“I know. And it’s okay. Come on, let’s go home.”
“I want to go home with you,” I say, almost desperately. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”
“Neither do I.”
Chapter Twenty
~Declan~
I’m never awake this early, but I’m drawn to her. We don’t cuddle through the night because we get too hot, but in the early morning, with the chill from the air conditioning, I want her in my arms.
Who am I kidding? I want to be fucking inside her.
She’s on her back, snoring like crazy, which only makes me grin. I sleep better when she’s snoring next to me.
I am just better because of her.
I drag my fingertips down her cheek, her neck, between her perfect, firm breasts and down to her belly, where I circle one fingertip around her navel, and the piercing there. She stops snoring, clears her throat, and breathes silently, but doesn’t open her eyes.
She’s not fooling me.
I take my hands off of her and move to roll away, but she reaches out for me.
“Don’t stop now, sexy man.”
“I figured you’d want to sleep,” I reply, teasing her. I roll back to her and lean in to pull her earlobe between my teeth, my cock twitching when she gasps and then moans softly.
“I like sleepy sex,” she replies sweetly. God, I love all of the facets of her. She’s so damn sweet, but can be fierce and tough as fucking nails. Life is never going to be boring with her.
I can’t wait.
“Mmm, me too,” I reply and slide my hand down her side to her hip and grin against her neck when she opens her legs, silently asking for my fingers to slide into her and drive her crazy.
But I have other plans.
I cover her, my body touching hers, and slide down, kissing every inch of her as I go. Her hands plunge into my hair, her fingers threading through the strands and not pushing me, rather just holding on tight as my mouth plays her skin like an instrument.