Levi's Blue: A Sexy Southern Romance (19 page)

I take a deep, silent breath and swallow. It’s always hard to think back on that night, on all the details. Those details often bring back the more painful memories.

“I thought I remembered seeing a face that night, but the doctors told me that I couldn’t have actually
seen
anything.  They said the bleeding and swelling on my brain and around my optic nerves was so severe that it would’ve affected my vision almost immediately.  They were amazed I survived.  But to this day, I think they’re wrong.  I
saw
someone.  I know I saw someone.  Someone was trying to save me.” 

Levi is absolutely still, even his hand no longer moving.  I listen closely to make sure his breathing isn’t so deep and even that he’s asleep. 

But it’s not. He’s awake.  Just silent.

“I think that’s who called the ambulance.  Even though they never found out who hit me or who called for help, I know that stranger didn’t leave me for dead.  Maybe because he hit me. Or maybe he was just passing by. I’ll never know. I’ll never be able to say ‘thank you’ or ask why.  But I learned a long time ago not to dwell on things like that.  They could drive me crazy if I let them.  So I moved on and tried to forget. Not really for
them
, but for
me.
”

Levi tugs me closer and raises his head so that he can press his lips to the top of mine, a gesture meant to comfort.  And it does.  He’s listening.  And he cares. He just doesn’t know what to say.  Most people don’t. I stopped expecting that a long time ago, too.

“What was it like?” he finally asks, his voice gentle and respectful.  “After?”

I hear no pity in Levi’s question, just acceptance. It’s a little thing, one would think, but it’s anything
but
little to me.  To me, it’s the difference between night and day, the contrast between cold and hot. It’s a burst of moist, fresh air blowing through a dry and arid soul. 

I take a deep breath and exhale, somehow feeling like the hard part is over.  Like I’ve unloaded a thousand pounds of age-old dead weight from my shoulders. 

“At first, it seemed like my life was over. I mean, I was majoring in photography. Do you know how many great pictures are taken by blind people?”

Levi’s tone is tender when he asks, “How many?”

“None that I know of.” I laugh. The sound is a lot less bitter than it used to be.  “For weeks, all I could think about was what I’d lost and how my whole future, all my dreams were crushed.  Disintegrated. Like dust in my hands that just blew away.  And my parents didn’t help much. Their version of sympathy was giving me one semester off to get back on my feet and figure out what to do with my life.  That and a pat on the head to tell me they were sorry.  So I wallowed for a while, of course, but it didn’t take me long to realize that wallowing was like digging myself into a pit that just got darker and darker the deeper I went.  For those weeks, I lived in black and white.  Aching brightness or inky darkness.  Life had no color anymore. 

“It was during that time that I realized
color
was what gave my life
meaning
. Color and shape and texture.  I lived it. Breathed it. It had been my only focus for as long as I could remember.  I felt like I was dying without it.”

“Then you found painting.”

I nod.

“But how?”

I inhale and smile, remembering the days that changed my life for the second time in less than a year.

“One spring evening, a few months after the accident, I was sitting outside trying to remember what a sunset looked like.  I closed my eyes and tried to recall this beautiful sunset I’d noticed that night, on the last night I could see
anything
.  At first it was hard.  Everything was foggy and far away, like I was already losing that memory.  And that terrified me—forgetting all those brilliant colors and fading clouds, forgetting the way the buildings seemed to reach up and touch the horizon, like fingers desperate to hold on to the sun. 
I
was just as desperate. To hold on.  To not forget. So I asked my mother to buy me some oil paints and a canvas. I thought that maybe if I recorded that last vision onto something, let that image flow through my memories, into my nerves and muscles, out through my fingers and
onto
something, that maybe I could hold on to it a little bit longer. I was so afraid of living the rest of my life in the dark, in just…blackness, I would’ve tried anything.  I’d have
done
anything to remember the color.”

That was a turning point for me.  That was the day I took all those lemons life had thrown my way and turned them into lemonade.

“Turns out it was the best thing I could’ve done. She had to help me with the colors at first. I didn’t know braille and I hadn’t learned the textures yet, so she described them to me.  We kept them in a narrow dish in alphabetical order so I could get to what I needed. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked. I was just so…
desperate. 
Or whatever the word is for ten levels
past
desperate.  I just knew I
had to
do something. I
had to
get it out. So I did.  And it changed my life.  I still don’t know what that first painting looks like to anyone else. I only know what it looked like
to me.
”

“I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“I doubt it. It’s probably a psychotic mish-mash of colors.  I hadn’t figured out the part about outlining yet.  But that would come. 
The following semester, that next fall, I went back to school and changed my major to painting.  One of my professors suggested the quick-drying paint.  I’m sure you can imagine what that was like for me.  I might as well have found the Holy Grail.  But after that…  Well, the rest, as they say, is history.”

“God, Evie! I…I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Christ, I’m just…I’m just sorry.”

I lean up on my elbow and feel for Levi’s chin, pressing my finger into the indention there before I touch my lips to it.  “Don’t be. Everything happens for a reason.  I adjusted. I moved on. I had to leave that night in the past.  Well, as much as I could anyway.  No sense dwelling on something I can’t change.  I have to live my life in the now.  That driver stole enough from me. I can’t let him take any more.”

“You’re probably the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

I reply with a laugh, “Your dad is a senator. I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You don’t know him.”  Levi’s voice falls flat, old anger evident in the tone.

“What happened with you two?” I ask tentatively.

Levi’s big, warm palm cups my cheek, and he scrubs his thumb over my cheekbone.  “Unforgiveable things, but nothing that I want to ruin tonight by talking about.”

“It’s hard.  Forgiveness.”

“Yeah, it is.  Have you been able to do it? Forgive the ones who did this to you?”

I take a moment to think about it, about where I am in my life and where I’d be if I hadn’t been able to move on from that night.  When I answer Levi, I’m certain of my words.  “Yeah.  I have. I’ve had to. Otherwise it would’ve crushed me completely.  Taken
even more
from me.”

He says nothing for several long seconds.  “That’s impressive.”

“You could, too, you know.  It’s just a matter of letting it go.”

“‘Just’,” he huffs wryly.  “If only it were that easy.”

“I didn’t mean it like
that,
like it’s a piece of cake.  It’s definitely not easy. But what
it is
is simple.”

“Maybe.  But there are some things I can’t let go.”

“Maybe if you try—”

He interrupts me.

“You know, there are several
other
things I’d much rather tend to tonight. If you’re game, that is.”  I hear the mischief in his voice as he leans up and presses me down onto my back.

“Oh yeah?  Like what ‘
other
’ things?”

Before he can answer, he takes my lips in a kiss that’s meant to incite, to inflame, to incinerate. He doesn’t need words to tell me what he’s thinking. He does just fine without them.

When we come up for air, I decide it’s time to turn the tables, to give him a little dose of his own mind-bending, body-quaking medicine.

I move my palms up to his chest and push until Levi pulls away. When he does, I wiggle out from under him, urge him onto his back and straddle his narrow hips.

“I’ve been cheated tonight,” I inform him, moving my lower body over his and feeling powerful when he comes to life beneath me.

“Cheated? And how’s that?” He grips my thighs and holds me still to circle his hips under mine.  I catch my breath, quickly realizing that if I don’t hurry, he’ll have me so mindless with need for him, I won’t
ever
get to feel all the incredible details of this amazing man.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to feel you, to feel what this body is like, to give it life in my head so I can see it.”

“Oh, I think I have some idea,” he admits wryly. 

I smile and I imagine that he is, too.  Probably with one side of his mouth.

I start at Levi’s throat, one hand on either side, letting my fingertips trail down the column, over his straight collarbones to his chest.  “I love this chest,” I whisper, moving over his rounded pecs, teasing the small, flat nipples there.  “One arm and
this chest
were the first things I felt about you. The night you caught me, I knew it would feel like this. I
knew
it would feel
just like this
.”

I memorize every rope of muscle, every stretch of sinew in the broad expanse, touching with lips, palms, fingers, even my cheek as I make my way down the stair steps of his flat abdomen.

“God, I wish I could see,” I mutter, picturing his strong arms, broad chest, ripped stomach, and trim waist perched in god-like fashion above his narrow hips.

I feel the muscles in Levi’s stomach clench as I draw nearer to the juncture of his thighs.  My own belly twists into a knot of want when I stop at the thick pillar of his erection. He’s already hard. For
me.

I wind my fingers around it, even though they can’t meet on the other side.  I hear his hiss of approval when I grip him firmly and stroke slowly downward. With my other hand, I cup his heavy balls, feeling them tighten in my palm.

I work my way back up his shaft, and a tiny groan escapes me when my thumb touches the bead of moisture on the tip of him. I lean forward to swirl my tongue over it, lapping up the single droplet.

“Jesus, Evie.  Hurry up and get your feel or this is going to be a lot quicker
and rougher
than you think.”

I grin, giving the head a quick little suck before I journey down his muscular thighs and then start back up again.  “Tell me, do you have any tattoos?”

“I do,” he says gruffly, his body rigid with control as I touch and scrape and lick my way back up. 

“Tell me about them.”

“Evie?”

“Levi?” I nip one of his nipples with my teeth, moving my belly back and forth over his hardness.

“No offense, but if I don’t get inside you in the next few seconds, you’re gonna be missing a limb when I blow it off.”

I laugh, a light, heady release that comes from the bottom of my heart.  A heart that has felt bruised and battered for so long now.  It dies on my lips, however, when Levi lifts his head and takes a nipple into his mouth.

He gives it a hard suck, much like I did him, as he reaches for the heat between my legs.  “Was that a laugh?” he asks, kissing his way to the other side, his fingers toying with me in a way that makes my hips rock against his hand.

“N-no.”

“No? Then what was it?” he asks, rolling me over to lick and nibble his way down
my
stomach. 

“I…I didn’t…I don’t…”  I can’t think straight when his tongue finds my center. I reach behind me and curl my fingers into the sheet, twisting when he teases me with the hard point of his tongue.  “Levi, please.”

I feel his own husky laugh as a vibration that ripples its way through me. “That’s a little more like it,” he murmurs in satisfaction.  “Let’s see how many more times I can make you scream my name.”

It didn’t take long for him to get to number two.

I stopped counting after five.

CHAPTER 18

LEVI

IF I didn’t have real business to tend to, nothing would’ve been able to drag me out of bed and away from Evie this morning. Just thinking about the way I left her after she said goodbye—with the most talented lips I’ve had the pleasure of meeting—is enough to keep me smiling all the way to Canal Street.  In fact, if I think
too much
about turning her onto her belly and pressing her cheek into the mattress, about pulling that sweet little ass up off the bed and sinking balls deep into that wet body, my zipper starts feeling a helluva lot too tight. Not a good shape to be in when you’re working with the hardened people in the shipping business.

No pun intended.

I grin to myself, whistling as I make my way to the office of the Port Authority. I’m nearing the door when my phone rings. Without giving it much thought, I dig it out of my pocket, slide my thumb across the screen, and answer.

“Michaelson.”

“So you’ve taken her to New Orleans.”

Julianne.

I can hear the venom in her voice.  For the last few years, when I’ve had to come to NOLA, I’ve either picked her up or we’ve met here. I wouldn’t have called it “our place,” but I can tell by her tone that she obviously
did.

“I didn’t realize that was against the law.”

“You know, I didn’t take you for a fool, Levi, but apparently I misjudged you.”

I breathe out through my nose, irritated at the intrusion on my happy, sexy thoughts.  “What do you want, Julianne?  I’m busy.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you are, but I thought you’d want to make time for this.” She pauses for effect, and I grit my teeth, trying to remain patient. “I know what you did, Levi. I know
allll
about it. And if you don’t break it off with Little Miss Innocent,
she’ll
know all about it, too.”

I stop walking, looking left and right to make sure no one can hear me, and I speak very carefully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?  That’s how you’re going to play this?  Have you forgotten that our fathers are good friends?  Men talk. Especially powerful men when they need to cover things up.”

Surprise and guilt and red-hot fury mix in my blood, a dangerous cocktail.  “Whatever you
think
you know you’ll keep to yourself if you’re smart.  Evie has done nothing to you.  Stay the hell away from her.”

“I will if you will.”

“Julianne, I’m warning you.”  My free hand clenches and unclenches, clenches and unclenches.  If this woman were close, I’d be tempted to lay hands on her.

And not in a good way.

“No,
I’m
warning
you.
”

“I knew you were a catty bitch, but I had no idea you were jealous and pathetic, too.”

It seems counterintuitive to antagonize her when she really might have something on me, but Julianne’s pride is one of her only weaknesses. 

Her pride
and me
.

“If you think that’s helping your case, you couldn’t
be
more wrong.” Her voice is low, quiet, and I know her well enough to know that her temper is pricked.  I didn’t want temper, though. I wanted pride, so she’d back down to save face. But she’s obviously past that point.

“Why are you doing this?” I keep my tone as reasonable as possible, but a sense of foreboding settles over me like a cloud.

“She’s a nice person. Or so it would seem. Too nice for you.  You’re better suited to someone like me. You know it as well as I do.  We were meant to be together.  A match made in rich, powerful, beautiful heaven.”

“I’m gonna humor you for a second and ask you this: Why would you want a man who doesn’t want you? Are there so few options left for you that you’d resort to extortion to keep someone?”

“You know as well as I do that you want me. You’ll always want me.  You can be yourself with me. You can tell me all your secrets, show me your nasty side, get as rough as you want, and I’ll never leave you. We fit.
In
the bedroom and
out
of it.  There is no other man who would make a better match for me. And I’m
perfect
for you, and you damn well know it. I’ve been patient with your…escapades, but it’s getting old. I’m just telling you it’s time to stop screwing around.”

I thought Julianne knew we had no future. I thought I’d made that crystal clear.

Obviously I was wrong.

It seems she thought she was just waiting out some sort of phase, like I’d eventually come to my senses.  Like I’d eventually want more with her.

But that’s not the case.

That has never been the case.

I was just blind for not seeing it sooner.

Cold fingers of unease grip me. Julianne is not an enemy to take lightly.  She’s the daughter of a powerful man who has powerful friends. She’s savvy enough and resourceful enough to have parlayed that into a certain kind of influence.  Over the years, she’s become a fairly formidable force in the political and business world, at least on the East Coast.

And now she’s threatening to use that influence against me.

If it were just me, I wouldn’t give a shit. I have no doubt I could survive whatever she thinks she could do to me. I’m a self-made man. I built my business from the ground up, and I could do it again if need be.  And I may even
deserve
what she’d dish out.

But Evie doesn’t. 

She doesn’t deserve to be in Julianne’s crosshairs, and
Evie
is the one who stands to hurt the most if these threats are real.

Again, if it were just me, I’d call her bluff.  Might even welcome a shit storm to clear the air.

But it’s not just me.

This is about Evie and destroying her. Because that’s what would happen.

This means I have two choices: stop seeing Evie or tell her everything.

Let her believe a lie or tell her the truth and let
her
decide our fate. 

Leave her for her own good or stay and risk
losing her forever.

The problem is, I don’t want to hurt her and I don’t want to lose her, so where does that leave me?  When those are my only two choices, what else can I do?

Impossible situation!
I think, fisting my fingers so hard my joints creak.

“How do I know you’re not just making this shit up?”

In one smug word, she shows me just enough of her hand to know she’s not bluffing.  “Rachel.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. 

She knows.

Now she has my full, undivided attention.  She’s giving me two unacceptable options, but I’m going to find a third one. I just need to buy myself a little time in which to do it.  And the only way to buy time is to let her think I’m playing ball.

I let my rage seep out into my tone.  “You can’t just call me up and make demands. You’re batshit crazy if you think I’d do
anything
for you after this
.
” I pause for effect and add in carefully measured words, “But Evie deserves better.  This is something I should’ve done already.
For her.
”

“You’d better make it quick then.  Tick-tock, Levi. Tick-tock.”

“I brought her down here and I’ll take her home. I’ll call you when I get back.  Then we’ll see.”

“No, we will not ‘
see
’.  And I’m not waiting.  She’s a grown woman, not a child.  You don’t need to walk her home. She can make arrangements for herself.”

“She’s blind, for godssake.  I am
not
leaving her down here, twisting in the wind.  Christ!  What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Fine,” she offers petulantly.  “You have until tonight.  It’s only a five-hour trip.  Get her home. Break it off.  Or I’ll do it for you.”

I pace back and forth over the asphalt, dragging my fingers through my hair, hating her for forcing my hand this way. Hating myself for letting it get to this point. 

“And you’re okay with me hating you for the rest of your life?”

She has the audacity to laugh. “You won’t hate me for long. I’ll come to your hotel. Soothe you in all the ways you like.  You can even take out some of your aggression on me.  I can take it. You know that.  And so can my ass.  You’ll feel better about it tomorrow, and you’ll wonder why you ever bothered with someone like Evian de Champlain.”

Even as she speaks, spinning a tale that’s utter delusion on her part, I know in my gut that I will
never
wonder why I bothered with Evie. She’s been the best thing to happen to me in as long as I can remember.

The thought of losing her…

My gut winds into a ball.  “Look, I’ve got business. I’ll call you—”

She cuts me off, “I’ll be at your hotel in Shreveport at midnight. Be there, Levi. Don’t disappoint me. You won’t like what happens if you do.”

Before I can argue or put her off, the line goes dead.

I let out a string of blistering curses and swing my arm, tempted to throw my phone as far as I can, like I used to throw baseballs in college.

Julianne has tried to manipulate me before, but it’s never worked. And it’s never been over something as serious as this.  It’s usually because she wants something from me and she tries to get it any way she can. 

She’s tried to use
my
father,
her
father, and once even a pregnancy scare to coerce me into taking our relationship to the next level.  I
always
made it clear it wasn’t happening. I really thought it was just part of her game, that she
knew
there was no future for us.

Clearly, I was wrong.

Up to now, she’s always been pretty harmless. She never let things get out of hand before, I guess out of fear that she’d piss me off and lose me forever. But this time…this time she’s gone too far. She will never get away with this.

I won’t let her.

After a few more minutes of pacing, along with imagining several different ways in which my vengeance might play out, I get my anger under control. I need to see to my business here and then take a drive, take a few minutes to think of the best way forward.

Because Julianne’s put a time limit on her little escapade, I can’t see any way that I won’t end up cutting this trip short.  I just can’t risk it. I
won’t
risk Evie that way.  She deserves to be the first person I consider in this. 

But when I get back…

Oh Christ!  When I get back…

Evie.

I’ll have to tell her.

I owe her that much. And she needs to hear it from me. No one else. That’s the way it has to be. 

At that thought, my anger deflates like a balloon with a pinprick in it.  In its place, a pocket of discomfort, something I’d almost call fear, begins to swell. When I get back, I’m going to
have to
tell her. What if she hates me? What if she can’t forgive me?  What if she walks away and doesn’t look back?

I pause with my hand on the door that leads into the building when it dawns on me—really hits me dead square in the gut—that there’s a very good possibility I could lose her.

I don’t have time to examine exactly why right now, but the prospect of that scares the shit out of me.