Chapter 9

Maverick

Carys’ eyes flash with blazing desire. She swallows hard and then jumps off the proverbial cliff by grabbing the front of my shirt and pulling me to her.

That’s the permission I’ve been waiting for all night. The green light I’ve been needing.

Before my mind catches up with her sudden movements, her mouth is on mine and I’m groaning into her kiss. Wrapping one arm around her waist, my other cradles her head as my fingers tangle into her soft hair. I’ve spent the last few days wondering—what would she taste like, what would she feel like...is her hair as soft as it looks? Yes. Yes, to every question I’ve had about Carys Matthews.

She tastes like sunshine after a rainstorm.

She feels like heaven.

I walk us backward to the side of the building, away from the people passing by on the sidewalk, and deepen the kiss. The moan that escapes her mouth reverberates in mine and travels to my chest and then my dick. It’s well aware a line has been crossed and there’s no going back. I hope she plans on being in my bed tonight. If not, I’m going to have a huge problem.

Not that I mean to toot my own horn, of course. I’ll gladly let Carys judge and toot my horn any time she’d like. Toot, handle, blow...you get the picture.

“And, now we come to one of the most famous stories of the French Quarter,” a voice calls out. “The story of the LaLaurie Mansion.”

Carys and I release each other’s mouths and turn to see a large group of tourists heading our way.

Realizing I’m about three minutes from taking Carys against the side of the building, I look at her and see she’s breathless. We need this distraction. “What’s going on?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath.

Carys lets out a heady laugh, but then looks down the street and then up at the buildings around us, smiling as she gains her bearings. “Ah, yes, the LaLaurie Mansion. This must be a haunted ghost tour.” She points at the crowd. “Have you ever done one of these? They’re really good.”

My cock is still telling me I want to do her and that she’s really good. That kiss was possibly the best kiss of my life. I’ve never been that worked up over a kiss. Making out and foreplay are all means to an end, but not with Carys. I could kiss her every day and never get tired of it. It’s both not enough and more than enough all at the same time.

“You mean, we’re making out in front of a haunted house?” Thankfully, her information about the ghost tour is the exact distraction I need, because fuck ghosts. Not that I’m scared or anything. It’s just creepy.

She giggles at what I’m guessing is a look of leery hesitation on my face. “Aww, are you afraid of ghosts, Mav?”

Her teasing effectively changes the trajectory of the moment and I fight back a smile as I clear my throat, looking around me. “Of course not.”

Carys just laughs harder before standing on her toes and whispering in my ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

She could’ve whispered supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and my reaction would’ve been the same. Her breath on my skin makes my dick stand to attention and remind me of how good her lips felt on mine. Pulling her to me, I claim her mouth again, not only to stop her teasing, but because she’s so damn close, I can’t help myself. I wasn’t done kissing her. The way she immediately opens for me, swirling her tongue with mine, shows me she doesn’t mind and she wasn’t done either. Breaking away just far enough to get a few words out, I whisper, “Let’s get out of here,” before she starts walking backward down the sidewalk, pulling me by my waist.

It’s hard enough to walk and kiss at the same time, but when you also add the bumpy concrete of the French Quarter, you’re just asking for trouble. Tired of all the stumbling, which causes our lips to be apart, I begrudgingly free my mouth from Carys’ and lift her up and over my shoulder. I probably should’ve just wrapped her legs around my waist, but carrying her that way would’ve still been dangerous due to not being able to see where I’m going. This way, I can see and keep a tight grip on her ass as I quickly walk us to the hotel.

I’ve witnessed guys throw girls over their shoulders a few times in the past and the girls always squirm and pretend to hate the experience but Carys doesn’t do that. She simply laughs and allows me to carry her. I fucking love the sound of her laughter; it’s free and uninhibited and I have a feeling she doesn’t share this laugh very often. That thought makes me sad but also determined to make her laugh like this as much as possible. Carys’ laughter should be shared with the world but I’m perfectly fine if she only shares it with me.

She’s still laughing when I place her feet on the ground outside the hotel door, and when she looks up at me with her bright eyes and beautiful smile, I don’t think twice. I press her up against the old wood door and kiss her once more. Eventually, she pulls back and catches her breath before reaching behind her and opening the hotel door. Her eyes never leave mine as she pushes the door open and slips inside. My thoughts turn dirty as I imagine what it’ll be like to finally slip inside her. I’m practically salivating at the thought.

Unfortunately, as soon as we walk into the lobby, Jules cries out, effectively breaking our erotic spell.

“Girl, PTL, you’re here!” He rushes from behind the counter to where we’re standing and grabs Carys by the shoulders dramatically. “I was just about to call you. The bathroom in room 201 is leaking and I’m freaking the fuck out. I’ve moved the guests to another room, but I’d already sent George home for the night and I didn’t want to wake him up at this hour to fix the leak. Can you do it?”

It’s obvious Carys is caught off guard. Her head is probably still stuck in the haze of the kiss we just shared. I know mine is. Not knowing what to do, she begins stuttering, but I interrupt and answer for her. “I’ll do it.”

They both turn to look at me like I just grew an extra set of eyeballs, so I put their worries at ease.

“I can fix more than computers and door knobs.” I laugh, trying to lighten this mood back to what it was before we opened the door. “I told you I’m good at fixing things. My grandfather taught me to be handy,” I assure her with a nudge of my elbow to her arm. I turn to Jules. “Does George keep tools nearby?”

“Y-yes, he does. I’ll grab them for you.” He rushes off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Are you sure about this?” Carys asks.

“Of course, I am. There’s no reason to wake George, or call anyone, when I’m perfectly capable of helping.”

She lets out an exasperated, and if I’m not mistaken, disappointed breath. Rubbing her forehead, she looks over at me. “I hate this. I don’t want to ruin your night.” Pausing, her shoulders slump. “You’re still a guest here and I just—”

Leaning over, I press my lips to hers again—a reminder and a promise—and then take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “Stop. I want to help. You know I do, right?”

Slowly, she nods her head.

“Let me help you.”

Exhaling forcefully, she relents. “Well, I’m coming with you.”

I spot Jules heading for us with a large tool box in his hands. “Come on, then.” I grab the tools and wink at her. “Lead the way.”

When we arrive at the room, we discover that Jules and Mary have already done a lot of the work. Thankfully, they were able to stop it before it flooded more than the bathroom, and it didn’t reach any of the carpeted area.

Carys starts picking up the soaked towels and placing them in the bathtub so they’re not in our way as we work. I can feel her watching me as I assess the toilet, lifting the lid off the back looking for clues. After a few seconds, I turn to her, wiping my hands on my jeans.

“I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?”

“Good, please,” she answers. Her worried expression tugs at my heart and I hope what I’m about to tell her lessens her stress.

“I’m fairly certain this will be an easy fix. See how the entire bowl moves when I push on it?” I demonstrate, and she quickly nods her head. “I think it just needs a new wax ring, which is what attaches the bowl to the floor.”

“And the bad?”

“Well, it’s unlikely George keeps wax rings in this tool box, so it’ll have to wait until I can go to the hardware store tomorrow and buy one.”

“That’s it? It just needs a new wax ring?” She looks skeptical and tilts her head to inspect the toilet. “That sounds a little too good to be true.”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s what the problem is, but if I’m wrong, I’ll hire a plumber to fix it, I swear.” I can tell that this is one of those proverbial straws and she’s the camel’s back that’s close to breaking. I mean, just since I’ve been here, she’s dealt with computers that wouldn’t work, having to manually check guests in and out of the hotel, and using an antiquated credit card machine. She probably lost business during those first couple of days, because we live in the age of credit card fraud and some people aren’t comfortable letting a business have a carbon copy of the card. Her hotel management system had to be updated. Fortunately, Shep was able to find something that was reasonable and fit her needs. But it’s all been an expense she wasn’t expecting.

“There’s nothing more we can do tonight?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip.

I stand in front of her and move her long hair off her shoulder. “It would be very proactive of me to go ahead and take the toilet apart and clean up in here, but I’d much rather finish our date.” Leaning forward, I place a lingering kiss just below Carys’ ear, smiling when she moans and angles her head to make more room for me.

I kiss her jaw and gently bite her earlobe before whispering, “There’s so much I want to do to you, but maybe this isn’t the best place. You ready to go?”

Carys’ eyes are hooded, and dare I say, a bit dazed as she looks up at me. “A place. Yes, yes, a different place. My place? Maybe your place. Any place, really. Yes, okay, let’s do this.”

Laughing, I grab her hand. “Come on, mess.”

She rolls her eyes at my nickname for her, but still allows me to lead her out of the room and back into the lobby. Jules is still at the desk, looking genuinely worried, chewing on his fingernails. His painted fingernails.

Whatever floats your boat, man.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks, and it makes me happy to see how concerned he is. Being a brand-new employee, he could’ve used this opportunity to bail on Carys, but he didn’t. So, Jules has officially earned my respect, not that he needed to, but I appreciate loyalty when I see it.

“I’ll have to go to the store tomorrow before I can fix it, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” I assure him.

“Halle-loo, that’s a relief!” He raises his hands like he’s in church and then hops out of his chair. “Carys, I hate to leave like this, but I’m already late for my other job. I can call in sick, if you need me to stay, though.”

Carys lets out a gasp then turns to me. “I’m so sorry. I forgot that I told Jules I’d work the overnight shift tonight.”

Disappointment, my old familiar friend settles like a rock on my chest. And my dick mourns that our time together has been cut short. I had plans, damn it.

Then I realize just because Carys has to work, it doesn’t mean our time together has to be over. “That’s cool. I’ll just hang down here with you.”

There she goes again, giving me that wide-eyed Bambi look. “You want to stay here in the lobby? With me?”

Her questions make it sound like it’s an absurd idea and she wouldn’t know why I’d want to do such a thing. She obviously doesn’t realize how addictive she is and how I’m already a junkie for her presence. “Sure. Why not?”

“Well...”

Before she can finish her sentence, Jules walks past us, heading for the front door. “You cuties have fun! And be sure to clean up after you do...whatever you two plan on doing,” he says with a wave of his hands. “George will be here bright and early tomorrow and we don’t want to start his day off finding y’all en flagrante delicto, if you know what I mean. Toodles!”

I’m not sure how long Carys and I stare at the now-closed doors before we both crack up laughing. “En flag—what?” I ask, with a laugh as I shake my head at Jules. The dude is a crack up.

Wiping her eyes, Carys looks at me before apologizing. Again. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, completely entranced by her gorgeous face as it glows with amusement.

“This, me. You’re right, I am a mess and our date was ruined. But at least now you know why I never date.”

I grab her hand and kiss it. “Our date wasn’t ruined. Different? Sure. But, that doesn’t mean it was bad... in any way. I mean, that alleyway?” I quirk an eyebrow at her and she tries to hide her smile as I walk toward her. Grabbing her by the waist, I force her to look at me and listen. “Carys, you’re different and that’s one of the things I like best about you.”

“You like me?” she asks, her eyes hooded once again and the boldness from earlier back in full force.

“I like you a lot.”

She hums, placing her lips to mine. We kiss again, but it’s different from earlier. This one is slow and easy, like we’ve got all the time in the world. I breathe her in and let her take the lead, having control of every inch of my body. Her hands start at my waist and feel their way up to my chest and then my jaw, as she strokes her fingers through the scruff I’ve let grow since being here.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “I’m not usually one to throw on the brakes, but if we don’t stop I’m gonna have you laid out on this counter and everyone is gonna get more than they paid for.”

I feel her vibrating against my chest as she laughs, her teeth grazing my neck.

“Carys,” I warn.

The phone ringing behind the desk does the trick. In an instant, she removes herself from me and flies behind the counter. With a fake professionalism, she answers, “Blue Bayou, how can I help you?”

The thought crosses my mind to walk around the counter and have a little fun, paying her back for the hard-on I’m sporting, but I decide to find a quiet spot over in the corner of the lobby by the large bookcases and watch her work. That’ll have to be enough. For tonight.