Bayou Born(23)

The ecstasy was unimaginable. The craving was more than she could bear. Alcohol wasn’t the demon addiction. Making love with James had to be.

James teased and tantalized her skin, stroked and sucked her body until she was begging for more and hanging on, trying not to fall off the edge of the earth.

He joined his body with hers. Filling her. They moved at a slow even pace, together as one. They rode the waves of pleasure.

He caressed her butt as they rocked. She grabbed tight to his shoulders for support and arched her back when he carried her to the top of the cliff of pleasure, the place where they both wanted to be...she felt his shudder as she heard her own long guttural moan.

Then they melted back to earth.

Had he somehow taken her bones?

Her body was so languid, further movement was out of the question—at least for another hour or so. Maybe the rest of the night. As her breathing returned to normal, James turned on his side, spooning her from behind. His hand draped, resting on her waist.

She never shared loving making with Steven that ever closely resembled what had just happened. And, her “good girl” argument to Biloxi had been that sex couldn’t possibly be satisfying outside of love...Well, she’d have to rethink that now.

She didn’t have words for the experience with James, but that didn’t matter. The corners of her mouth turned up. She was a later bloomer in more ways than one. She finally understood what Camilla had been telling her, about the burn, the need, and the euphoria so potent is was a drug. One that took you to the highest mountaintop, then launched you to the stars.

James was the perfect lover.

Had she really thought those words?

She had a lover?

She had a lover.

Oh, no.





Chapter 15

In the first light of early dawn, the room looked unfamiliar. Sitting up, Branna clutched a sheet to her chest. The banging in the kitchen had to be James, right?

What were you thinking? The “good-girl” voice in her head started to lecture, and her heartbeat zoomed to the edge of panic. Had she walked through a magical door in Lakeview or simply lost her mind? Maybe there was something in her drink last night. Otherwise, how could she rationalize, let alone explain that she’d been intimate with a man she barely knew.

Breathing deep, trying to hold on to some semblance of calm, she gazed out the windows. When was the last time she rose to watch the radiance of a new day? When had she seen rays of light cast a glow that made the world looked wonderfully refreshed? Certainly not since her engagement to Steven. Just how long had it been? Before college? For too many years, she’d juggled balancing school and duties at Fleur de Lis. Who had time for a sunrise?

The beauty of the golden light soothed the pounding in her heart. Tension eased more. Before her, a squirrel leaped from limb to limb. The bedroom’s second story windows offered a view like one would find living in a tree house. And through the trees, she caught a brief glimpse of light blue, the river flowed really close by.

Thankfully, there were no obvious neighbors in sight.

Hearing another pan bang against something brought uneasiness back to her gut. What had she been thinking? James was her assigned mentor. Their relationship had to remain professional.

She couldn’t blame last night on alcohol, she was in enough control of her faculties that she could have stopped what happened. She didn’t because...she wanted the experience. She wanted James. It was all about him. She and desire had climbed a mountain, reached the highest peak, then when desire demanded full attention, she was happy to oblige. Never would she regret making love with him, no matter how loud the “good-girl” voices wanted to shout her down.

But...after last night, James could peg her as another “type”? If so, she probably wouldn’t like the label.

She scrambled for her clothes, now neatly folded in a chair by the window, and then dressed. A second later, James entered the bedroom with two mugs. He handed her one.

“Two creams. Two sugars.”

The timbre of his voice resonated low in her gut and sent a warming sensation lower. She barely managed to nod as he stood grinning at her.

She nodded again for good measure.

“Are you a morning person?” James asked.

Was he really standing there expecting a benign conversation? After everything that happened last night? In this room? In that bed? Not once, but twice. She blinked, hoping her voice would remain as casual sounding as his.

“Honestly, I love sleep. It’s the greatest luxury in life. Sunday mornings, I get up for church at the last minute. I don’t think Father John has ever seen me with makeup.” She wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth. She was babbling. “A morning person by design, not voluntary.”

“I see. Catholic or Episcopalian?”

“Hail Mary’s and everything.” She chuckled nervously.

His eyes never left her. His gaze unnerved her. She raked her fingers through her hair, certain last night’s makeup had smeared her face like a Jackson Pollock painting. Taking a step forward, she whispered, “Restroom?”

“Ah. Oh. Sorry. Through there.” James pointed down the hall.

She took another step. Glanced at him. The door opening wasn’t wide enough for her to pass with him in the way. He turned and raised his hands, holding his mug high above his head. She slipped by, making sure they didn’t touch.

Inside the small bathroom, she stood in front of a pedestal sink and took a good look into the mirror. “Not too bad,” she muttered while wondering how to disappear and reappear at home alone. Her actions last night would shock anyone who knew her. She had shocked herself. The discomfort that dawned with the sun was something she’d never experienced before. The idea of adventure suited her far better than the actual experience. Had Lewis and Clark felt that way on their Journey of Discovery to the uncharted west?

“Branna, are you okay? I can make breakfast or I can take you out to eat. What’s your desire?” James called through the bathroom door.

Desire had led to her current predicament—hiding out in the bathroom. How in the world would she face the man at work every day? His assignment was to show her the ropes on the job, yet he managed to educate her in several new ways that had nothing to do with what they did for a living. And, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want more.

“Branna, I’m starting to get concerned. If you don’t come out, I’m going to have to come in. We can deal with the elephant in the room. We just have to talk about it.”

Not only was James a good kisser, a wonderful lover, but clearly he had some measure of mindreading skills. That made him even more dangerous. Quickly, she washed her face, rubbed it dry, then slowly opened the door.

He reached in and took both of her hands, holding them as though they were delicate like porcelain as he guided her to the living room. Could she be growing accustomed to the quivering he sent though her body with a mere touch?

The man had the most unnerving way of capturing her total attention. As they stood before the stone fireplace, about in the same spot where everything had started last night, he looked deep into her eyes, as if looking for all of her secrets. She blinked.

“There are a couple of ways to look at this situation. It only requires an open mind.”

Puzzled, she tilted her head and shifted her gaze from his eyes to his mouth.

“Yesterday evening was a non-date, but somewhere between the ‘non’ and ‘date,’ it became an actual date.”

She started to protest, but he squeezed her hands. “Hear me out. There was no way I could get you home by midnight, and we both know what happens then, so I brought you here, where no one—trust me on this—no one turns into a pumpkin at midnight.”

She furrowed her brow and remained silent. So far, he hadn’t said anything that she could argue against.

“Now, the way I see it, everything from after the Tin Lizzie to dawn was our first date, and I want today to be our second date, allowing us to dispense with all of the after-the-first-date issues.”

It alarmed her that he was making complete sense. It wasn’t lost on her that he didn’t make specific references to their activities between midnight and first light. That would have sent her running.

“That’s one way to look at it,” she agreed noncommittally.

“Good, then on our second date, I want us to get to know each other better and decide on when we’ll have our third date.”

“We,” she said. “We don’t know each other at all!”

“Au contraire, mon ami. We know quite a bit about each other.” He winked.

What craziness. Who was she? She went to bed with him, almost a stranger. And then he woke up and considered the new dawn an opportunity for a second date. The “good girl” warred with the “adventuring girl” in a heated battle. What should she do? James Newbern had an appealing charm. Many positive qualities. Who was she kidding? She’d lived more, drank more, and danced more with him than anyone. He was the charge to her battery. He was sexy as hell. And, she never used four-letter language, yet the facts completely warranted it this time.