Page 3 of Rebound (Men of Inked 2.3)
“Humor me,” I stated, gripping my glass a little tighter to stop myself from touching her. I wanted to reach out, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and pull her lips to mine. The need was overwhelming and unexpected.
“I’m not usually a barfly. I prefer to enjoy the other things the city has to offer.”
“Which would be?” I wondered if the whiskey would be sweeter if I tasted it from her lips.
“The history only New Orleans can claim. There’s a darkness here that sucks you in. A beauty in the blackness and melancholy that no city can rival.”
“You make New Orleans sound full of gloom and doom.”
“No. I don’t mean it that way. In New Orleans, there’s an energy that becomes part of you.”
“You still haven’t told me what you like to do for pleasure,” I stated, releasing my gin to rub my lips. I needed to do something to distract myself from the sinful thoughts I was having about Fiona.
“I like to walk around the city and soak in the energy.”
I studied her, wondering what she meant by that statement. After a moment, I gave up. Figuring out the female mind had always baffled me. I wasn’t going to gain some great insight today. “That’s a different answer than I was expecting.”
“You just haven’t seen the city through my eyes.”
I nodded, knowing she was right.
“What did you think I’d say?” she asked, turning her body in my direction as she grasped her drink.
“I don’t know. Not that though.”
She started twirling the damn straw in her mouth again, and all I could do was stare at her tongue. Watching it move was hypnotizing. “How about you buy me a couple more drinks, and I’ll show you what I mean?” She smiled around the straw. The blue in her eyes caught the light from behind the bar and twinkled. Honest to God twinkled. I shit you not.
My body came to life at the thought of seeing the town with Fiona by my side. It had been ages since I’d walked around with a woman and enjoyed an evening. “You have yourself a deal, Fiona.” I smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time in longer than I could remember.
Maybe my weekend wouldn’t be about getting lost, but about finding myself again.
3
New Orleans
After I bought Fiona two more whiskey sours, we headed out of the Funky Pirate and onto Bourbon Street. It was after midnight, and I’d lost track of time while we sat at the bar, talking about life.
We each shared our stories, although truncated for humiliation’s sake. She had recently become divorced after finding her husband of three years cheating on her with his secretary.
I couldn’t image what the fuck the man was thinking. Fiona was stunning. She had a good job, killer body, and the face of an angel. What did she lack that made him look to someone else? If I had a woman like Fiona, there’s no way in hell I’d ever stray. Shit. Even as Izzy strung me along for years, I rarely indulged in sex with other women. We weren’t even in a relationship, and that shit ate me alive. How could someone do that to the person they vowed before God to love for better or for worse?
Most guys I knew were assholes. Spending months inside a motorcycle club can fuck with your ideas of what normal and right are, but I knew that cheating wasn’t in me. I wasn’t built that way. As a child, it was ingrained in me to be faithful. Loyalty was important in my family. Joining the FBI was driven by that virtue. Loyalty to my country, dedicating my life to the service of the betterment of society was my main goal.
“Which way do you want to go?” she asked as we stood on the crowded sidewalk illuminated by the green lighting of the Funky Pirate. She intertwined her arm with mine, holding my forearm.
During our time at the bar, talking had turned into tiny touches. Small ones at first as our fingers found each other on the bar. As we drank and drank, the small grazes turned into full-on touches. When she laughed, she’d lay her hand on my arm. As she told me something personal, she’d lean in and place her hand on my leg. I tried to keep my hands to myself, trying not to scare her away. I didn’t touch her legs, but I kept my hands to her hands or arms.
Looking both ways down Bourbon Street, all I could see were people. Masses of them filled the street. I don’t think I’d ever seen so many people in one place before tonight. “You choose. I’m putting myself in your capable hands.” I smiled down at her as she peered up at me. There were only a couple inches of height difference between us now, but if she kicked off her heels, I’d tower over her.
“Let’s start in Jackson Square.” She pointed to the right before pulling me with her as she began to walk.
“What’s there?” I asked, trying to avoid knocking people over. We moved shoulder to shoulder with the other partygoers. Even though we were tipsy, many of them were truly shit-faced and almost falling over as they stumbled down the street.
Music filled the streets as we walked past the bars, finally making it to Orleans Avenue. As soon as we turned the corner, the steeple of a church came into view. “What’s that?” I asked as I took in the beauty of it lit up in all its glory. It was a one-eighty to the depravity on Bourbon Street.
“That’s Saint Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square.”
“It’s stunning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.” Even though it was my second time in New Orleans, I’d never stumbled upon the church. Most of my time had been spent in the casino or on Bourbon Street getting shit-faced with the other tourists.
“Wait until you see the back of the church.” Her grip tightened on my arm, her heels clicking against the sidewalk as we walked down the quiet street.
It’s amazing how the sound of Bourbon dies as you drift away. After forty feet, the street grew hushed with just a few people wandering toward their destinations. We walked arm in arm, moving closer to the light of the church. As we approached Royal Street, the back came into full view.
I stopped dead in my tracks, entranced by the sight before me. Fiona walked one step before I caught her by the arm, dragging her back. “Wow,” I whispered.
“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” She looked at me for a moment before t
aking in the sight in front of us.
“It’s unexpected.” Standing before us was a giant statue of Jesus surround by white lights. The shadow of the figure was cast against the back wall of the church. It was as if Jesus was calling out, saying a prayer for the sinner before him. Extending his arms to reach the crowd on Bourbon Street. They probably needed the prayers the most. I started to laugh. The hilarity of the situation wasn’t lost on me and I looked down at her.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, looking up at me with her eyebrows knitted together as they formed a V.
“It looks like he’s praying for the lost souls on Bourbon.” Sliding my hand into hers, I gripped her hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Don’t you see it?”
She smiled, her forehead relaxing as a smile spread across her face. “I never thought about it that way. Maybe he is.” She shrugged, resting her head on my arm as I looked back at the statue.
“Show me more, Fiona.” I moved the hairs the wind had blown onto her face away from her eyes. “Show me the beauty you see in this great city.”
“Gladly,” she replied, moving her face into my touch. “Let’s go to the square and people watch a little. It’s one of the most interesting places in NOLA.”
As she began to walk, she tripped, starting to fall forward. I moved quickly, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her upright. Her breath caught and her eyes widened when she looked at my face. Our lips were centimeters from each other. I could smell the whiskey on her lips as I inhaled.
I lingered, not wanting to move as her face softened. She opened her mouth, ready to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance. The woman had intoxicated me more than the drinks. I couldn’t go any longer without a taste.
As I held her in my arms, staring into her eyes, I placed my lips on hers, softly at first. Honestly, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be kicked in the balls for kissing her. Her actions throughout the evening said she wanted me, but I didn’t want to be brought to my knees by her in the middle of New Orleans.
Her lips tasted of sweetened whiskey just like I imagined. I swiped my tongue across them as I kissed her. My touch was tentative to start, but with each second that passed, my need for her increased. I pulled her to my chest, crushing my lips against hers and devouring her mouth.
Her kiss stirred something inside me. It wasn’t just my cock that was calling out to her, but something deeper. The only sound was of her breath as I kissed her with more passion than I had ever kissed another woman. I pulled her closer to me, and her chest rubbed against mine while our tongues tangled together.
She was an amazing fucking kisser. Not too much tongue, just the right amount of lip, and she wasn’t trying to eat my face off. I pulled away, resting my forehead against hers. I was as winded as if I’d run a mile, but I hadn’t. The sheer pleasure of kissing her had me struggling for air.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I’m not.” She looked up at me, her face hidden in the shadows.
I placed a kiss against her forehead, releasing my grip on her back slightly. When she straightened, she gained her footing again. Her blinks were slow and she smiled at me. Maybe she was in a trance like myself. “Let’s go. I know exactly where I’m taking you next.”
“Where?” I asked, being pulled me forward with my hand.
“There’s an old woman in the square. You have to meet her.” She turned around, giving me a quick smile. The way her face lit up when she spoke made me feel warm inside.
Seeing her happy was different than how I had met her. We were both down in the dumps, looking to drown our night in the bottom of a liquor bottle. The night was now shaping up to be so much more than I ever imagined. “An old woman?” We walked on the side of the church, heading toward the square.
“You’ll see,” she said, keeping her eyes forward as she laughed. The sound of it gave me butterflies and hope for what would come next.
“This should be interesting,” I mumbled. A genuine chuckle burst out of me.
“It’ll be enlightening.”
It wasn’t what I expected. In my mind, I had seen a space filled with people, brightly lit, and teeming with life. I had been dead wrong. There were maybe twenty people walking through the square. It was hard to see much of anything as I looked around. Directly in front of us there was a park surrounded by tall, black wrought-iron fencing. A few tables were set up near the front of the church where the light was the brightest. It was quiet as people spoke in whispers and hushed tones.
“This is the square?” I asked, totally unimpressed.
“Well, yeah. During the day, it’s full of life. Artists set up around the square, hanging their artwork on the fence. People sit on the steps of the church and sip their coffees and watch the city go by.”
“And the old woman?” I asked, looking around and zeroing in on an old woman sitting at table with a sign that said “Fortune Teller.” I never believed in someone being able to tell me what was going to happen in the future. It was a clever way to swindle someone for twenty dollars.
“Right there,” she replied, pointing to the gypsy woman sitting at the table I had spotted.
