It’s ridiculous.

“Humor me.”

She sighs and leans on the bar, then rakes her killer eyes up and down me. “You have nice hands. I like that you’re tall. And your teeth are straight.”

I stare at her for a long minute, then bust up laughing. “You like my hands, my height and my teeth.” I shake my head and then laugh some more. “My ego is safe, sweetheart.”

She’s smiling now, and that just about knocks me off my stool. Jesus, she should smile all of the time.

“You have a killer smile.” I scratch my nose and lean my chin on my hand again, watching her. “I want to bury my hands in your hair and feel how soft it is. And your legs have to be the sexiest I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re charming,” she says cautiously, but her cheeks are pink and her smile is back.

“I’m honest.”

“Can’t fault a man for being honest, given how rare it is these days.”

“I’m taking you to dinner, Callie.”

Her smile doesn’t slip as she cocks a brow again. She takes a long minute to reply, holding my gaze, and finally, as if she mentally thought why the hell not, she says, “You can pick me up at six on Monday.”

“I’m gonna need to know where you live to do that.”

“I’m staying with Adam for a while.”

I tilt my head and consider her. Adam is more of a player than I am.

“He’s my best friend.” She doesn’t look away or blink, doesn’t explain herself further, almost daring me to accuse her of sleeping with him, and I simply nod.

“I’ll pick you up at six on Monday.”

“Don’t be late.” And with that she saunters down to the other end of the bar to pour a beer for a customer.

I won’t be late.

***

What am I doing? I’m being an idiot, that’s what I’m doing. I’m waiting outside The Odyssey for Callie to finish closing up so I can escort her to her car.

What is this, 1945?

I sigh and lean against the building. No, it’s the French Quarter, and it’s dangerous at night, and I’ll be damned if Callie walks to her car alone this late.

A few moments later, the woman herself steps outside and sets the alarm, then locks the door and jumps about three feet into the air when she turns and finds me standing here.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I almost maced you,” she says and covers her chest with her hand, panting.

God, I want to make her pant like that for entirely different reasons. Just the thought of it has my cock on high alert.

“Sorry,” I say again and try to think of dead puppies and spaghetti to calm my dick down.

“Why are you here?”

“To walk you to your car,” I reply and fall into step beside her.

“That’s very chivalrous of you, but I’m fine walking a block by myself.”

“Yes, you carry mace.” I smirk, and then laugh when she bites her lip guiltily. “Let me guess. You don’t really have any mace.”

“I could stab someone with my heel,” she suggests and I can’t stand it. I have to touch her, so I take her hand in mine and kiss her knuckles.

“You’re adorable.”

“No. I’m not.”

She is.

“Okay.”

“My car is right there,” she says and speeds up, trying to pull her hand away, but I don’t let her go. Not yet.

“I like it.” She drives a ’68 Camaro. Jesus, I might have to marry her.

“So do I.”

She unlocks the driver's door, but before she can open it, I turn her and lean in, her back against the door, my body inches from hers. I feel the heat coming off of her, I can smell the fruity shampoo she uses, and it’s a big boost to my ego when she takes a long, deep breath, then braces her hands on my hips.

She’s not pushing me away, so I take that as a good sign.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Calliope.”

“How did you know my name?” she whispers, those ice blue eyes pinned to my mouth.

“Adam,” I reply.

“He’ll pay for that. I hate that name.”

“I like it.” I lean in closer and drag my nose down her cheek, breathing her in. God, she’s more potent than the tequila. “It’s pretty and unusual, just like you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

I grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her hands travel up my sides, over my shirt, and fist over my ribs, gathering the cotton tightly as my left hand glides down her side to her ass.

“I like your height too, you know,” I murmur. “When you’re in heels like this, I don’t have to practically bend in half to reach you.”

“Happy to oblige,” she whispers. She’s still gripping onto me, but she’s not leaning in to me, as if she’s waiting to see where I take this.

And if we weren’t in the middle of the street, I’d fuck her brainless. Right here.

But instead, I let my lips drag up her neck and then hover over mouth, barely touching her. “If you’re going to push me away, do it now.”

She doesn’t push me away. Instead, she pulls me in, and our mouths take over, nibbling, exploring, enjoying.

I could kiss her all damn night.

And I will.

But not tonight.

Before I boost her up and bury myself inside her for all of God and the whole French Quarter to see, I pull back just a bit and turn the kiss from hot to sweet. She purrs.

She mother-fucking purrs.

And then, she lets go of my shirt, drags her hands down my sides, and with a cocky smile on those full red lips, she grabs my ass, her nails digging in just enough to bite, and tugs on my lower lip with her teeth.