Alluring Infatuation (9 page)

Do not do it, Melonie! Dry yourself off and get dressed, then do your normal routine. Do NOT grab that damn phone. You are an adult, not a fifteen year old. Don’t let that man make you a crazy person.

Ha, yeah ok. You are a crazy person. You had insane, wild, out of character sex with a stranger on a tropical island. The stranger is a rock star. He’s freaking famous! And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. You haven’t been able to think rationally since the second you saw him. The first second!

I am not going to grab the phone. I’m not.

I manage to get dressed in comfy yoga pants and a tank top and pile my hair messily on top of my head before I swipe the phone and read the message.

“Dade:

Are you sure? You want me to come to your house? You’re ok with that?”

I laugh.

Am I ok with that?! Seriously? Um, no, not really. You are famous. Like fucking famous man and I am not. I am a well-respected doctor, but I am Baton Rouge and you are like Los Angeles. We are not on the same plane. However, for some insane reason you seem interested in me even after all of the craziness of the past few months, so I am just crazy enough to want to see if what was between us on an exotic island is still here in the middle of Baton Rouge. Ha, screw it.

I stop my hands from shaking and type a reply.

“Melonie:

Yes, I’m sure. I have food if you’re hungry. I didn’t eat today, so I grabbed a few things on the way home. Don’t expect anything fancy, though.”

I send it and head to the kitchen to heat up the food I picked up at Albertson’s. As I mess around in the kitchen, I plug my phone into my surround sound and turn on Spotify. I didn’t know who Dade was, because I don’t listen to rock. I’m a country girl. I’d heard of Bayou Stix in passing, but I had never heard a song. That has since been rectified, but I still “mainly” listen to country.

The new Luke Bryan song comes on and I dance around the kitchen as I prepare the meal. Luke Bryan is my dream man… or so I thought. Dade looks nothing like Luke Bryan. Shaking my head at the ridiculous direction of my thoughts, I laugh and mutter to myself, “Melonie Bird, you have issues!” and sing along at the top of my voice.

As I put the sautéed green beans and grilled salmon into the oven to reheat, my phone goes off again.

“Dade:

I could eat. What’s your address and when do you want me to come over?”

Chuckling, I pick up the phone and call him. I’m not a big phone person, but if we’re going to have a conversation, I’m not typing all that shit.

The phone rings and I twirl a loose piece of hair as I wait for him to answer. It rings twice.

“Hey. You called me?!”

I chuckle. “I did. I hate typing on my phone. The small keys make me insane. If I have a lot to say, I prefer to talk. It’s quicker.”

He laughs. “Ok, then. Where do you live and when is a good time to come by?”

“I live off of Perkins.” I give him the directions. “I’ll buzz the gate and let them know you’re coming. You can come anytime. I have the food heating now, but no rush. I’m just here winding down after my day.”

He says, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Brush your teeth.” He hangs up.

What the hell? Brush my teeth? What does that mean? Oh… Oh, does that mean what I think it means? The last time we talked it was not at all romantic and the time before that he kissed me breathless, but then told me to have a nice life. Does he think he’s coming over to hook up?

Do I want that?

My body hums in answer. I tell it to shut up. But, I go brush my teeth.

My nerves are shot as I wait for him to get here. I somehow remember to call down to the gate and let them know to expect him. Then I run around the apartment and straighten up. It doesn’t take much; I’m a little OCD about cleanliness and order. But I straighten the pillows and throw across the back of the couch and put the heels I kicked off when I got home into my closet.

Taking a look around, I try to see it as I think he would. It’s nice. Rich fabrics and plush carpet. I personally don’t like carpet, but since I’m renting and I have a housekeeper come in twice a week, I don’t really care.

The only thing I dislike is that Peanut is a long hair cat and she sheds. As if she hears my thoughts, she walks into the living room and bumps my leg before walking to the kitchen and stopping at the door. She looks back to make sure I’m watching her. Then, she meows… loudly.

Spoiled ass cat. “I know. I know. You’re hungry. I’m coming.”

As I walk over to the baker’s rack to remove her food, she bumps my leg again and I can hear her purring. Rubbing her ears, I fill her bowl, and as she eats, get her fresh water. She’s my baby. I don’t have kids, but she’s my fur baby and I don’t think she understands she’s not a human.

The timer goes off and I wash my hands and take the pan out of the oven. Checking the time, I see it’s been eighteen minutes since I hung up with Dade. Not that I’m counting.

Of course you’re counting, you silly woman. A rock star who is gorgeous and who knows your body inside and out is on the way to your house. A rock star that you are completely head over heels for, at that. A rock star that can have any woman in the world, yet is on the way to your house.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Peanut bumps my legs again, so I reach down and pick her up. She purrs loudly and licks my chin. I laugh and tell her a secret. “Ok, Peanut. Dade is coming over. So, you have to be good. Do not climb into his lap. He may not like cats.” She looks at me and purrs louder. “I know. Who wouldn’t love you, girl?!”

As I’m conversing with my fur baby, the doorbell rings. My heart starts racing. Walking over to her bed, I put Peanut down into it. I laugh. She’ll never stay in there. It’s a decoration. She goes wherever she wants in here and sleeps wrapped around my head on my pillow at night. Spoiled cat.

Wiping my palms down my pants, I take a deep breath and reach for the door. I sneak a peek through the peep hole.
Holy shit! Did he get even sexier?! Stop it Mel! Act your age. He’s just a man.

Yeah, a sexy as shit man who I did really naughty things with and to. A lot.

I feel my face flush. Shit!

The bell rings again.

Well, here we go. I open the door.

He smiles at me and looks me over, from my bare toes to my messy hair. I fist pump in my head that I didn’t pretty myself up for him, too. He can either like low key Mel or not.

His eyes meet mine and he smiles again. My heart hits my cervix.

“Hey.”

I swallow as I look at him without the benefit of the closed door between us. He’s so tall. He’s wearing flip flops with khaki cargo shorts and a Thundercats t-shirt. I’m so shocked, I laugh.

His brows raise in a silent question.

“Sorry, you’re wearing a Thundercats t-shirt. I just didn’t expect you to be so… casual.”

He looks at me pointedly. “Your evening wear is stunning, too.”

I blush and he chuckles. “Can I come in?”

I didn’t even realize I was blocking the door. Opening the door wider, I step back. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Yes, come in.”

He steps in and takes the door from me; I jump at the unexpected contact. Looking into my eyes, from right in front of me, he leans down and whispers, “Let’s not make this weird, ok?!”

I step back. “What?”

He backs me into the wall and boxes me in. “I said, let’s not be weird. We know each other in the most intimate way possible. We had conversations that flowed before. We have shit that’s happened since, but I don’t want to go back to the beginning. Can we not make this weird and can you stop looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf and you think I’m going to blow your house down? Please?”

Um, what? I don’t think I understand. Are we picking up as if he never left the island or are we just acting like we’re friends. I don’t know what he means. But I know that his lips are the perfect shape and I can’t stop staring at them. I want them on mine. Right now.

He smirks slightly. “Melonie. You with me?”

Shaking my head to clear it, I blush again. I nod. “Yes, I’m here. But I’m afraid I don’t understand. What are you proposing, Dade?”

He looks confused. “What do you mean?”

I’m still against the wall and he’s inches from my body. “I mean, what do you mean? Are we continuing from where we left off or are we just two people who need to know more details about the other?”

He stops and I can see the wheels in his head turning. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I know you. You know me. There are just things we don’t know about each other. I want a combination… of both. Follow?” He kisses me.

His lips are whisper soft against mine and I gasp as they start to tingle. He takes advantage and his tongue starts a slow dance with mine. My hands run up his chest and grab the messy ponytail he’s wearing to anchor myself. I’m on my tiptoes. His hands run up and down my sides, brushing the sides of my breasts. They swell in anticipation. He groans as I fist his hair and press my body firmly against his. His hands cup my ass and lift me. His thigh is between my legs and it feels heavenly.

We stay that way seemingly forever. Both of us just basking in the feel and taste of the other. All of the other bullshit melts away as sensation takes over. I want him. I want him now.

Letting go of his hair, my hands reach for the bottom of his shirt. I rake my nails down his washboard abs and stop at the band of his shorts. His breath hisses out as he breaks the kiss.

He steps back and sets me on my feet. He rests his head against the wall for a brief second before stepping back and letting me go. I hit the wall as I start to lose my balance.

He smiles at me. I’m so crazed with desire, I want to attack him.

He chuckles as I growl. Wait, what?!

I just growled in frustration.

Leaning over he kisses me hard and takes my hand. “I smell food. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

He wants to
eat
right now. Food?!

I growl again and stomp my feet in frustration. He laughs heartily as he brushes past me and saunters into my kitchen.

Dade

F
ood. Food is a good idea. Throwing her to the floor and devouring her delicate body is not a good idea. Not right now.

Fuck you, head. My libido says fuck you.

Shit. The passion between us is still insane. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to go home tonight without sinking into her again.

We have to talk though. Talking is important.

My body wants to throat punch me. It says talking can happen in bed. I’m telling my body to shut up.

I walk past a sexily rumpled Melanie and hope she follows me into the kitchen.

I hear growling and grumbling under her breath. It makes me smile.

Her home is nice. I look through it as I walk the short distance to the kitchen. It’s elegant, but not over the top and still looks lived in. I hear a small sound as I reach the kitchen and look down. An extremely fluffy black cat is following me and it appears like she’s talking to me. I love animals, so I squat down. As I get near the floor, it reaches up and taps my legs with its little paws. “Well, hello there. You are a pretty little thing. Friendly, too. What’s your name?”

I hear a chuckle and look up. Melonie is standing in the doorway watching me pet and talk to this little cat. “Her name is Peanut and she’s spoiled rotten. She thinks everyone likes her and is asking you for permission to get in your lap.”

My eyes widen. “She’s asking permission?!”

She laughs at my expression. Nodding, she says, “Yeah, sit down and pat your thigh where she’s tapping you.”

A cat is asking for permission to get in my lap. Pussy wants to climb in my lap?!

I laugh out loud, but do what Melonie suggested and tap my leg. The cat climbs in, curls into a little ball, and closes her eyes while she purrs.

Well, I’ll be damned. I’ve wanted a pet for years, but since we’re gone so much, I don’t want to get one and then leave it alone while we travel. This little girl is pretty and sweet.

I chuckle. “I think she likes me.”

I hear Melonie mumble under her breath. “Smart cat.”

Chuckling, I scoop the kitten up and stand. I set her on the floor and she just stares at me. “I’ll play with you later. I’m hungry right now and I need to talk to your mommy.”

I see Melonie’s surprised expression as I talk to the cat.

After washing my hands, I help her plate up the food. It looks good. She points to the table. I carry both plates over while she grabs some wine out of the freezer. She gestures to it and asks, “Would you like a glass?”

I’m not a wine man. I like beer and hard liquor. I shake my head. “I’m not much of a wine drinker. Sorry.”

She shakes her head and opens the fridge. I hear drawers opening and closing and then she says, “Yes.” Turning around, she holds out a Shiner Bock. “I have this? Is this better?”

I nod.

She opens it and brings it and her glass of wine to the table. As she sits down, she says, “I forgot those were in there. My ex-fiancé used to drink them.”