"Why in the h.e.l.l do you owe her anything?"

"Because she gave birth to me." I shrug and try to think of something else to talk about. "You know, I'm not wearing any underwear." Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Yeah, we'll get to that. Why do you owe her, Meg?"

"Because after I was taken away from her, I told the cops that she did drugs and sold herself for money and she was arrested and went to jail for a while, and she's never let me forget that it's my fault. She's always been able to find me. Always. So, I give her the money each month and it keeps her in Montana and away from me."

"f.u.c.k," Will whispers.

"Look, it's no biggie. It's not a lot of money. I don't need it."

"That's not the point. She's a f.u.c.king bully, babe. Tell her to kiss your a.s.s."

"It's just easier this way." I shrug again and stop him when he tries to argue. "I don't want to fight about her. She's not worth any of our time."

He takes a deep breath in frustration and pushes his fingers through his hair. "Fine."

"Let's go check out one of the above ground cemeteries." I bounce up and down in excitement and he can't help but laugh at me.

"What is it with you and the dead? And why am I just now learning this about you?"

"It's N'Awlins, Will. Don't be a spoil-sport."

"d.a.m.n, you can pack away the food. Where do you put it all?" I ask as we enter our hotel suite. More accurately, the penthouse of an old, gorgeous hotel. The furnishings are grand and st.u.r.dy and the tapestries are thick and old.

I feel like we've stepped back in time each time we walk inside this vast room. It's beautiful, and way more s.p.a.ce than we need, but I know that Will wanted to make this week special.

And he has.

"Meg, as a football athlete, I have to consume almost four-thousand calories a day to maintain enough energy to train the way we do."

"All the time?" I ask, stunned.

"During the season. In the off season, it's closer to three-thousand."

"Holy s.h.i.t," I murmur and feel a little bad for constantly tormenting him about the volume of food he eats.

But then I look at him and remember how he laughs when I tease him, and I don't feel bad anymore. Teasing him is fun.

"There's something I want to show you," he murmurs and pulls me to him.

"I've seen that before, stud m.u.f.fin." I grin up at him and glide my hands up and down his chest as he throws his head back and laughs.

"Not that. Well, not yet, anyway. Come on."

He leads me out of the room and to the elevator, but instead of pushing the b.u.t.ton for the lobby, we go up to the roof. I look up at him in surprise, but he just smiles smugly down at me.

"What are we doing?" I ask.

"You'll see."

The doors open to reveal a beautiful rooftop patio, full of plush furniture, large, ornate gold planters boasting cut-leaf rhododendrons, Spanish moss falling down ledges of the balcony, and the tops of banana trees from the courtyard below. We can see across to similar patios on similar hotels, although it's small enough up here, and the foliage is plush enough that it feels private.

White lights are strung over-head, lanterns are lit on the side of the building, and on table tops, sending a soft glow over the s.p.a.ce in the darkness of evening.

There is a sign that reads closed for private party.

"Oh, we're not supposed to be up here." I try to pull him back to the elevator, but he chuckles and easily pulls me back to his side.

"We are the private party, sweetheart."

"Oh." I smile ruefully as he leads me to a corner of the patio that has champagne chilling in a silver bucket and two silver plates covered with silver domes sitting on a small table before a gorgeous red and gold couch.

"What's all this?" I ask, my eyes wide, taking in this beautiful scene.

"Just dessert on the rooftop," Will murmurs and shrugs shyly, like it's no big thing.

But it is a big thing.

"Thank you." I raise on my tip-toes and kiss him. "It's lovely."

"You're lovely. Here, have a seat." He leads me to the couch and pours us each a flute of sparking, gold champagne. "To spontaneous vacations."

"I'll drink to that." We clink gla.s.ses and take a sip, Will's blue eyes are watching me over his flute.

"Did you have fun at the cemetery today?" I ask with a grin.

"It was interesting. Definitely a new experience."

"I thought it was fun. I still think you should let me talk you into the ghost tour."

"I can think of better things to do in the dark," he replies with a half-grin.

"Really? Like what?"

"Are you wearing any underwear under that dress?" he asks instead of answering my question.

"You know I'm not." I tilt my head and study him. "Why do you ask?"

"Just making sure." He pours more of the sweet champagne into our flutes and leans against the back of the couch, watching me. "Would you like some dessert?"

"Sure. What do we have?"

He pulls the lids off the plates and reveals little dishes of beautiful creme brule. "Looks like creme brule."

"Delish," I murmur and grin as he scoops up a spoonful and feeds it to me. "Mmm."

"Good?"

"Mmm hmm." I reach for it, but he pulls it out of my grasp and takes a bite himself.

"Mmm," he nods. "Good." He takes another bite and I frown at him and reach for the other dessert, but he blocks me. "I got this."

"Well then gimme!"

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" he chuckles and feeds me another bite, then takes a bite himself. I crawl over and climb in his lap, and he feeds both of us, grabbing the other ramekin when the first one is empty.

"Did you get enough?" he asks as he pushes the dishes aside and wraps his arms around me.

"More than enough. Thank you."

He smiles against my hair and kisses me, while running his hands up and down my back. "You're welcome, babe."

His hand glides down my hip to my thigh and under my dress, and heads back up again. I grin against his chest as my pulse accelerates and I cup his face in my hand. "You know, someone could see us out here."

"They could," he mutters and kisses my forehead, that talented hand still exploring under my dress.

"We should behave," I whisper and kiss his lips gently.

"That's no fun," he whispers back, making me giggle.

"What do you want to do?" I ask as I nibble down his neck.

"You," he whispers and I grin again, spread my legs slightly and guide his hand between them.

"Feel how wet you make me when you say stuff like that?" I whisper against his lips. His eyes flare, his fingers find my c.l.i.t and rub gently, then slip down and slide easily into my wetness. "Oh, G.o.d, honey."

Finally, he takes my mouth possessively with his own, kissing me deeply and madly, while his fingers continue to wreak havoc on my core. Dear G.o.d, he makes me crazy with just two fingers.

Who am I kidding, he makes me crazy by just looking at me.

"Want you," I mutter between kisses and he groans deep in his throat, lifts me to straddle him, and I reach between us to unfasten his shorts and unleash the hard c.o.c.k that has been pressing into my hip.

"G.o.d, I love your hands," he mutters, looking down at me pumping his length. Finally I can't take it anymore, and I raise up and slowly guide him inside me. "Oh f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, babe."

His eyes are clenched shut, jaw tight, hands gripping my hips like vices and I've never felt more s.e.xy.

The skirt of my dress falls around our laps, so even if someone did see us, it just looks like I'm sitting on his lap, and I begin to rock. Not fast, and not so that it really even looks like we're having s.e.x. I just rock slowly and clench around him tightly.

"Meg, you're gonna make me come like this, sweetheart."

"That's the point, babe," I lean down and kiss him, bury my hands in his hair and continue the a.s.sault on his c.o.c.k, clenching and rocking, and as I do, it puts pressure on my metal, against my c.l.i.t and I find myself getting close too, shivering and convulsing around him. "I'm going with you."

His eyes open and he watches me with hooded eyes and his mouth open, gasping. He cups my face in his hands and pulls me down to him, kisses me tenderly and then whispers, "I love you," as he surges up and empties himself inside me, growling. The words, the pressure of his o.r.g.a.s.m, what he's doing to my body, sends me over with him, but before I can cry out, he covers my mouth with his to hold the sound down, and I explode in wonder and complete surrender.

I love you too.

Why am I so f.u.c.king afraid to say it?

Chapter Sixteen.

~Will~ I could lie here all day and watch her sleep. G.o.d, she's so f.u.c.king beautiful. She is all gold skin and auburn hair against crisp white sheets. Her delicate face is soft in sleep, and little pink lips are slightly parted.

This week has been the best of my life. h.e.l.l, the month or so we've been together has been the best of my life, and that's saying a lot because I know that I am one lucky son of a b.i.t.c.h.

But Meg makes everything incredible. She's funny and smart and so d.a.m.n talented.

And she's asleep, in this bed, with me. It's our last morning in New Orleans, and I must admit I regret that it's over so quickly. I'll be sure to take her away again as soon as the season ends. We'll go to Europe, or Hawaii.

f.u.c.k, anywhere she wants.

It's been fun to watch her enjoy the amazing music of this city, the sounds and smells, the uniqueness that is New Orleans.

And I think it's effing adorable to watch her eat beignets. Speaking of, I check the clock. I'm expecting a delivery in about ten minutes.

Meg stirs in her sleep, raises one arm up over her head, causing the sheet to slide down her body and expose one perfect breast, the nipple tight from being exposed to the cool air. Her beautiful auburn and blonde hair is fanned around her on her white pillow, and one knee is bent, laying against the bed.

Which means I could slip my hand between her thighs and wake her with my fingers inside her, but I wait. I want to watch her for a few more minutes.

I knew that I'd fall in love eventually. That I'd end up meeting a nice girl and we'd get married and have a few kids and a good life together.

But I had no idea that I could love someone so much that it absolutely consumes me. That being away from her for merely hours makes me want to punch someone in the face and the thought of anyone ever hurting her in any way just makes me completely nuts.

I would kill for this woman.

Or die.

I wasn't kidding when I said she's everything. She is.

At the light knock on the door I roll out of bed, pull on yesterday's shorts and answer the door. I tip the delivery kid from Cafe Du Monde and carry the big bag of beignets and carrier of coffee to the bedside table, set it down, strip out of my shorts and climb back onto the bed.

She hasn't moved a muscle.

My little lazy bones. Funny thing is, she's the least lazy person I've ever known. She works tirelessly, and is always moving.

I love it when she's moving beneath me.

With this in mind, I lean on my elbow near her head and lean down to kiss her cheek.

"Megan, wake up," I croon softly to her and brush little wisps of hair off her neck.