I allowed her thumb to glide across the back of my hand while she spoke to me, and I let myself, for this brief moment in time, enjoy it.

“Thank you for taking me out tonight, Kace.”

“You’re welcome,” I said uncomfortably. “It’s the least I could do after taking you in the back of Kitten’s Castle,” I tried to tease.

“It’s the least.” She smiled brightly.

“Speaking of Kitten’s Castle, how much longer are you going to work there?”

“Kace…,” she warned. “We’re not going to talk about that unless you want me to ask you questions about your past.”

“Nope,” I said. “Fair enough.”

I wanted Lyla out of Kitten’s Castle, but it looked like she wasn’t going to budge, at least not right now. I still had plans to try to convince her otherwise.

“So tell me, are you excited about Justice opening soon?”

I nodded and took a sip of my water. “I think it’s come along nicely other than some of the classes the girls have come up with.”

“I think the classes will be well received. Pole dancing is all about fitness.”

“Is that right?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It is. Do you think it’s easy hanging upside down with only your legs to keep you in place while your boobs flop around?”

“Well, I’ve never tried it with my boobs flopping around, but I can’t imagine it being easy.”

“Was that a joke?” she asked, tightening her grip on my hand.

“Last one you will hear tonight, promise.”

“That’s a promise I hope you plan on breaking.” She smiled. “I’m happy for you and the girls. You’ve worked so hard putting together the center. I know it will do great.”

“I’ll be excited when everything is done. The housing portion will take the longest since Jett decided to offer miniature apartments for those seeking refuge. But for now, having the classes and gym open will be sufficient. It’s a work in progress.”

“Are you getting yourself ready to teach some boxing lessons?”

I shrugged. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing. I didn’t want to teach adults how to box, at least not right away, because they would be the ones who knew who I’d been, so I decided to hold classes for kids at first and some self-defense classes too.

“You seem apprehensive,” Lyla pushed. Just like Goldie, she never let anything just go.

“Not sure how I feel about it all,” I said, gripping her hand a little tighter. I never brought up my past profession, ever, so talking about giving boxing lessons was bordering on uncomfortable since it was so close to what I used to do.

“Self-defense lessons seems like an interesting class. I might join in on the fun.”

Grateful for the change in subject, I smirked. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, and I might need a practice dummy. You would be the perfect match.”

“Watch what you ask for, sweetheart. If I was your practice dummy, I wouldn’t take it easy on you.”

“You know I like it hard, so no worries.”

Fuck if I didn’t just grow stiff from the way she bit her lip and looked at me seductively. Her thumb continued to graze my skin as heat poured off her. No matter how far I tried to push her away, she always managed to work her way back into my life somehow.

Our waitress brought over our plate of boudin, smiled, and left.

“Did you see that?” Layla asked as she grabbed one of the small plates on the table and put it in front of her.

“See what?” I asked.

“She was totally checking you out, right in front of me.”

“Do you blame her?” I said in an egotistical tone, holding my arms out so she got a good view of my chest.

Lyla crossed her arms. “The man doesn’t have manners but can be a cocky son-of-a-bitch when he wants to be.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

She shook her head and looked down at the boudin. “Well, this is not what I was expecting. They changed things on me.”

“Yeah, these are fried balls, huh. Never seen boudin like this.” I grabbed one and popped it in my mouth, not worried about the heat coming off them since I practically had a metal mouth. I swallowed and said, “Not bad.”

“Well, that was a disgusting display of macho eating.”

“Macho eating?” I asked. I watched her take a ball and use her fork to cut into it. Steam evaporated in the air.

“Did you even chew it?”

“Yeah, of course I did. Only need a couple of chews to get it down the gullet.”

I grabbed another and tossed it in my mouth, quickly making that one go down as well. There were four on the plate, so the last one was for Lyla. Pleased, I sat back and watched her eat.

In disbelief, she shook her head at me and then put the rest of the boudin in her mouth. She struggled significantly with its size and heat, and her eyes watered while she tried to cool the boudin down by breathing out of her mouth and taking swallows of water. After some fancy mouth maneuvering, she was able to break the ball down and swallow. She held her mouth open for me and said, “Ta-da!”

I looked around and then leaned forward. “Should I clap?”

“You better fucking clap. That was torture.”

Chuckling, I gave her a slow clap while she bowed and waved her hand in appreciation.

“The best boudin is the kind in the sausage casing that you suck out, and after you’ve got it all, it looks like a used condom, all shriveled up and gross.”

“Yes, I love it when my food ends up looking like a used condom. Rather appetizing,” I replied as she stuck the remaining boudin with a fork.

“Who doesn’t?” she smirked.

Our main entrees showed up shortly after that, and we talked about trivial things while we sucked on the heads of our crawfish and enjoyed the traditional rice and beans. It was obvious Lyla used her meal to entice me by the way she sucked on the crawfish and moaned about their Cajun flavors. To say I didn’t let it affect me was a lie. With each lick of her fingers and devilish look in her eyes, I grew harder by the second. Her pink lips glistened, and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, reminding me what her lips were capable of.

I’d never been this turned on during a meal.

“You’re quiet,” she said, licking her fingers once again.

Clearing my throat and adjusting in my seat, I said, “Never saw someone turn eating crawfish into a sexual experience.”

“Oh good, you noticed.” She grinned. “I was afraid you weren’t paying attention.”

“Is that why you dropped sauce on your breasts?” I asked, remembering the way she’d made it seem like an accident, but knowing damn well it wasn’t.

“Of course. Did it work?”

I wiped my hands on my napkin and then leaned back in my chair. “What do you think?”

“I think if I ran my hands up your jeans, I would be very happy with what I found.”

She pushed her chest toward me, displaying her breasts next to her plate and gripping my thigh under the table. The feel of her hand was like an electric shock, kick-starting my body. It felt fucking good.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I warned.

“I always finish.” She winked, pulling away.

After I paid and finished my water, I stood up and waited for Lyla to stand as well, but she just sat in her chair and looked up at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, wondering why she didn’t move. “Did you want dessert or something?”

“So romantic,” she teased and held out her hand.

“What?” I asked, looking down at it.

“Part of going on a date is holding hands, Kace. Go on, take my hand. It won’t hurt.”

Little did she know the hand-holding we’d done earlier had done a number on my soul. Walking around the French Quarter with her hand in mine was most definitely going to hurt because I knew damn well I was going to want more of it after tonight.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, I grasped her hand, giving in to her little demand. Her hand fit perfectly in mine and once again, our fingers intertwined. Our palms connected and the warmth of her hand ran up my arm and straight to my heart, slowly melting a little part of the black soul I’d developed.