He sighed, deciding to use a different tack. “You’d be stupid if you weren’t scared. I’m trying to give you an out; I’m trying to fucking protect you. From me and whatever bad comes with me. You and me, sweetheart, we’re from different worlds. You’re here to bring happiness to tourists, to give them a bright and shiny memory of New Orleans. I’m here to enact justice for an old friend, nothing more. As soon as I’ve done my job I’m out of here. And I’m not gonna pretty things up for you. Blood will likely be spilled, and I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire of any of that shit.”

“It’s not working.” She smiled. “The fact that you care about what happens to me only makes me want you more.”

And then, before he could anticipate what she was about to do, before he could tell her he didn’t care, she pressed up on her toes, clamped her hands around his head and yanked him against her. Their lips met and she shoved her tongue inside his mouth with a ferocity he hadn’t thought her capable of. She took control, sliding her hands down his back and into his jeans, cupping his buttocks in a vise-like grip. It was sexy as hell. And no matter the sirens sounding in his head, he wasn’t man enough to resist.

The switch he’d been barely keeping control of since she’d come into the office wearing fuck-me shoes and not much else flicked. He’d done his best. He’d tried damn hard to warn her, but she was a stupid little girl who couldn’t take no for an answer. Maybe it was his duty to teach her a lesson.

He stepped up even closer, pushing her back against the cool, hard wall of The Priory, his cock already hard and threatening to break out of his jeans. As he took control of the kiss, biting her lip and then tasting her right down to her cleavage, he unbuckled his belt and freed himself. Billie squeaked like a frightened mouse, but within seconds she reached out and wrapped her hand around him. The feeling was intense. Stronger than anything he’d ever felt. Her simple touch—she’d barely even moved her hand—sent a jolt of pleasure right to his core. But no, this was about showing her what kind of man he was. He yanked her hand off of him, shoved her skirt up around her waist as he’d been fantasizing and then tore at the scrap of lace that covered her sex. Ripping it hadn’t been his intention, but her panties came off in his hands and he scrunched them up and stashed them in his pocket.

Then he brushed his fingers across her mound, slipping into the silky folds between her legs, and found her hot and wet. She moaned at his touch and then looked at him with wide-open, desperate eyes when he removed his hand.

“Travis?” Her voice sounded panicky.

In reply, he put his hands on her hips, lifted her up and pinned her against the wall. Her legs looped around his waist and he drove into her, fast, furious, taking everything he wanted, everything he needed. He thought she was at his mercy, but the way she clung to his back, her nails digging through his thin T-shirt into his skin, turned him on like nothing else. Tomorrow he would have her mark on his skin. Not to mention the fact that they were doing it in an almost public place, something he hadn’t done in years. He didn’t know who he was at the moment, whether it was fucking Billie that was making him crazy or he was fucking her because he’d already gone insane.

But he couldn’t get enough of this. Of her. In that moment nothing else mattered—not Priest’s murder, not his mother, not getting back to Tallahassee. Only Billie. He thrust harder, her core muscles tightened around his cock and they both flew over the edge at the same time.

Afterward, his heart pounding, he held her against him—his hands on her ass, his cock still inside her and her head resting on his shoulder. And he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to talk or think about their differences, think about anything really. He simply wanted to scoop her up into his arms and take her back to her bedroom and do this over and over again.

Then it hit him. Holy fuck. “We didn’t use a condom.”

As he slid out of her and deposited her gently back on the ground, she shrugged and straightened her skirt. “I’m on the pill. And no matter who you say you are, I know you’re not stupid.”

Meaning she knew he didn’t have unsafe sex with just anyone. This truth unsettled him even more. While he’d been fucking her against the wall, he’d never once thought of protecting either of them. What the hell was that about? Maybe he’d underestimated Billie. Maybe she was more of a vixen than he’d given her credit for, because she didn’t seem at all worried about doing it in the open air. In fact, her face almost glowed and her eyes were wild, as if she was ready to go at it again.

Why did he feel like he was the one who’d been taught a lesson?

Chapter 11

“You know I’m not staying,” Travis told Billie. It was hours after they’d left The Priory and they were lying in her bed, legs entwined and his arms wrapped around her in a post-sex haze. They’d made love, then dozed, then made love some more. Just when she’d thought she could never move again, let alone have sex, he’d done something else with his fingers or tongue that had proved her wrong and had her squirming for him again.

“I know,” she whispered back, not meeting his gaze, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice. However crazy the notion, she felt like she was halfway in love with him and didn’t want to dwell on the moment when he’d inevitably walk out of her life. It was ridiculous to think he’d ever stick around and too much to hope that someone as independent and damaged as he was would ever ask her to go with him back to Tallahassee. And what would she do in such a place anyway? Her gallery, her new life in which she put her own happiness before the convenience of others, was right here in New Orleans and she loved it. “Let’s just make the most of the time you are here.”

“If you’re sure.” He snuck his fingers into her hair and massaged the nape of her neck.

Right now, she wasn’t sure about anything except his touch. And of that she wanted to get as much as he was willing to give. “I am. Although next time you and your brothers are talking, it’d be good if you could discuss your plans for this building, because I feel a little in limbo at the moment. If I’m going to have to move out, I need to start looking for a new space.”

Her chest tightened at the thought. Lord knew how she’d ever find something as suitable or affordable in the French Quarter again, but thinking about her livelihood was easier than thinking about her heart and the mess it would be in when Travis left.

He sighed and put his thumb against her chin, encouraging her head upward so she had to look into his eyes. And they were such beautiful eyes. All dark and stormy and sensual. “Ajax and Blue are focused on other things right now.”

She nodded. “I know, Priest’s murder, but—”

“But—” He cut her off. “I don’t want you to worry. Before I leave I’ll make sure you’re looked after. Once we’ve avenged Priest, they’ll be in a better place and more amenable. We’ll work something out.”

A shiver snuck through Billie’s body at the word avenge. Really, what had she gotten herself into? Her head thought her insane, but her body didn’t give a damn about whatever Travis was involved in as long as he kept going down on her. What kind of person did that make her?

“Thank you,” she whispered, finding that she trusted he would stay true to his word.

“How did you get the gallery started anyhow?” he asked.

“It was a case of pure luck and a lot of determination,” she confessed. “I had some money from my divorce and I met a couple of artists on the street, displaying their work in much the same manner as buskers. At that stage I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew I’d like to stay in New Orleans. I kept thinking about how great it would be to have a place to showcase some of the artists I’d met, and then one day I was walking down Bourbon Street and saw the for lease sign on the gate.”