Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (45 page)

Sitting in the ridiculously massive sparkly black granite tub, which also had the waterfall faucets on a smaller scale, we passed a blunt back and forth as we waited for it to fill up. I sat across from him, and no shit, this thing was big enough to fit three of him.

This corner of the house faced to the left, so all we saw were willow and walnut trees and the scene beyond River Road to the Mississippi. I loved the view.

Phil had pulled his hair back when we got back to his place, and I couldn’t decide how I liked it best. When he pulled it back, he looked all badass with his gorgeous cheekbones and deep-set eyes highlighted. I adored the rough hollow of his cheeks and his slender long nose and the way his nostrils flared. And his mouth…by the gods, his mouth was full and sensuous with the fantastic ability to twist cruelly. He was just so beautiful, so striking. And he was almost completely hairless. He had hair on his legs and groin, but his arms and chest were naturally quite smooth. I studied his features with avid fascination, and taking a few hits off the blunt, he was silently watching me as I did so.

It struck me suddenly. He reminded me of the few photos I had seen of my grandfather.

“You’re Native American, aren’t you?” I blurted out.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “My mom was Choctaw.”

“Full blood?” Now, it was my turn to be surprised. Most of the Native Americans around these parts weren’t.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Wow. I totally see it.”

He flushed a little and passed the blunt to me. “Is that a problem?”

Now, it was my turn to feel all offended. “No. I was just trying to place your features.”

“Place my features?” He sounded pissed.

“Your eyes, cheekbones, nose and mouth—they’re beautiful. They remind me of the pictures I’ve seen of my grandfather.”

He looked surprised again, and his voice lost its pissy edge. “He was a Native?”

“He was half Cherokee. He was born and raised in Virginia. His mom was full-blooded. She was gorgeous.”

“Huh. I sure don’t see it in you.”

“Yeah, I look like Da. He’s from Inverness.”

“Scotland?”

I nodded. “You could see it in my mom though. I was always so jealous of her in that respect. I thought she was so beautiful. I loved her long dark hair and her eyes. I always wished I looked more like her.”

Phil was studying me now. “I think you’re perfect the way you are. I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.” I felt myself blush, and he grinned. “I like that you blush, too.”

“Why wouldn’t I blush?”

Shrugging, he said nothing, and I had the feeling he hadn’t hung out with many women who had anything left to blush over, so I let it drop. Passing back the blunt, he shut off the water since it was now lapping at my collarbone. Settling back against his side of the tub, he watched me from behind his hooded gaze.

“Was it ever a problem?” I asked softly, not wanting to piss him off.

“What?”

“Being part Native.”

“Yeah. My first girlfriend’s parents weren’t too thrilled about it.”

Now,
I
was the one who was pissed.
In this damn day and age…

I thought he sensed my anger on his behalf because he grinned sweetly, his dimples popping.

“You’re too cute.”

Rolling my eyes, I scooted forward to hand off the blunt. He reached out and snagged my wrist instead, pulling me into him. Tugging my legs so that they were on either side of his waist, he seated me on top of his hard-on, facing him.

Phil seemed completely at ease.

He took the blunt, hit it, and stumped it out in the ashtray he’d brought in and placed on the broad side of the tub. Taking the back of my neck with one hand, he pulled my head forward, touching his lips to mine and exhaling the hit into my lungs.

Fucking sexy as all hell.

I leaned back and exhaled his hit, and he got that burning look in his eyes again. Reaching his other hand up, he gently encircled my throat, his thumbs stroking over the pulse points, and smoothed their way down over my shoulders.

“I love that you’re so tall,” he said, not necessarily speaking to me so much as speaking out loud. He seemed to realize this, and he let his vision reach into my own. “I love that you’re not some prissy little thing.”

“No, I ate the prissy little thing a long time ago,” I joked with a smile.

He grinned. “More women should be like you.”

“Gigantic?” I laughed.

“Strong—not just physically, but in their heads. It’s a fuckin’ turn-on.”

To emphasize the fact, he slid his hands to my waist and squeezed, holding me still so that he could arch up, creating a bit of friction. Leaning forward, I rested my forearms on his shoulders, sliding my crotch along the length of him.

“I love the way you feel…” he said softly. “You were made for
me
, Baby Girl.”

“I think I was,” I replied, equally as soft.

He trailed a hand up my side, over a breast, and up to my throat, pulling my face closer.

“Let me in,” he whispered against my mouth.

As I rose up, he reached between our bodies with his other hand, positioning himself, and then back to my waist to help push me down his erection. I ignored the twinge of soreness, sinking slowly.

He gasped as I took him to the hilt. “God, you feel so
right.
”

Slowly lifting me by my ass, he then pushed me just as slowly back down, making the water slosh around in the tub.

Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “So, tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow?”

“My dad’s having a barbeque at his place.”

“Mmhmm?” I lifted myself and slid down.

He moaned a little. “Yeah…we’re going.”

“Oh?”
Lift and sink
.

“Uh-huh.” His fingers dug into my ass. “I want you—
fuck
. I want my family to meet you. You’re…a part of it…now.”

Oh, damn. Did he really just say…

“Okay.”

“The guys are going,” he said, holding me down so that I couldn’t distract him. “Alys and Lili are invited, too.”

“I’ll let them know then.”

We were both breathing a little heavier than normal. The feel of him inside me was so sublime. I was torn between having this sort of intimate conversation and just wanting to fuck the shit out of him.

His hands smoothed their way up my sides to grab and squeeze my tits, tugging and rolling my nipples. He bit his lip when he felt me tighten around him. Between the awesome sensations shooting from my breasts to my groin, and the amazing pressure of being so completely filled by him, it seemed wholly possible I’d come without having to move.

“Phil…” I groaned.

“Yeah, Baby Girl.”

My hands slid back over his shoulders to frame his face, and my lips claimed his mouth as
mine
in a hungry hot kiss
.
He could feel the possessiveness within me, and when he moaned into my mouth, I felt him surrender to it. Rising up until only the fat head of him was inside me, I stopped there, teasing him.

“Kenna…” he growled, his voice making me throb.

“Mmm?”

“I’m yours,” he said as though he were confessing. “Don’t stop. Take all of me.”

“All mine?” I asked.

“Only
yours,” he confirmed.

I sank back down and took his mouth once more. There was no more speaking after that, only the slow, sensuous sex that left us both shaken afterward.

Phil was waiting for me in the Black Beauty, and I hopped in the passenger side, sliding into the bitch seat.
He’d bitch if I didn’t, so why should I bother not doing so?

“They’re going,” I told him as I buckled myself in.

“Sweet.”

After our sojourn to his bathtub, we’d gone back to my place to pick up his truck. Before heading to the farmers market, I’d run inside to let Alys and Lili know about the barbeque at Phil’s dad’s place tomorrow. As usual, they had been sitting on the back porch, but Lili had been dressed to the nines.

“She’s having lunch with a guy she met last night,” Alys had replied to my questioning glance.

“He’s a chef!” Lili had crowed.

“Thank fuck. Now, you can bring him home and make him cook for us for a change!” I joked, making Alys laugh.

“I’ll see you guys later,” I’d told them before heading out the door.

Since Phil’s place was bereft of any decent sort of food, we decided to take a trip to the farmers market. Preferably, I supported the local farmers and organic providers in the area, and Phil would pretty much eat anything put before him, so it wouldn’t matter to him where it came from.

Phil looked fucking hot in a pair of baggy beige cargo shorts and
The Dark Side of the Moon
T-shirt.

I’m so stupid easy to please.
I was very low maintenance.

As it was Saturday, the farmers market was more crowded than usual. Phil seemed very much at ease with strolling next to me, my hand tucked in his. We got some double takes, but I thought it had more to do with the fact that he was enormous and tattooed and not that anyone actually recognized him. It was odd, considering NOLA’s Junk represented New Orleans to the metal community. They were known all over the world, but no one from their hometown knew who the hell they were. I got the feeling he liked it that way.

“So, this is where you go for groceries?” he asked.

“For the most part,” I replied. “I also do some shopping at the organic grocery store.”

“What’s with your obsession with organic shit?”

I wasn’t offended by this question—or rather the way he’d asked it. He was genuinely curious. And I knew he wasn’t irritated to be going out of our way for our food.

“It’s not tampered with or coated with pesticides. Cancer and many other autoimmune diseases are on the rise, and it’s directly related to the food Americans consume—heavily processed and full of sugars. Not to mention, some foods have been genetically modified. Obesity rates are skyrocketing, health is plummeting, and it can all be traced back to the food we eat.”

“Oh, I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Most people don’t.”

“But
you
do,” he stated warmly.

“Well, I’m not the
only
one. But if you take the time to read the labels on the food in the grocery stores, you’ll soon realize that you don’t actually know what is in the food you consume.”

He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m glad you do.”

Smiling up at him, I heard his breath catch.

“You’re fuckin’ brilliant.”

“Just well informed.”

First thing we did was get lunch. It was best not to grocery shop on an empty stomach. I got myself a fat organic salad of dark leafy greens, beef strips, and cheese with olive oil and a lime wedge. Phil found a station that served his beloved fried alligator, and he also got a couple of huge grilled sausages with peppers and onions, his own huge salad with chicken, and an unsweetened iced tea.

“You sure you got enough there?” I asked sweetly as we found a picnic bench with an umbrella.

He shrugged. “It’ll hold me.”

After lunch, we picked up enough food to make meals for a week. We got organic eggs, beef, chicken, and pork. Most of it, we’d put in the freezer. We also picked up tons of fresh vegetables and fruits. Phil had to get a mango, and he ate it like a caveman right there by the fruit stand, the juice dripping off his hands and chin.

Grunting with bliss, he informed me, “I’m all sticky.”

“You don’t say,” I replied dryly, handing him a bottle of water and some napkins.

Damn, my man is adorable
, I thought happily.

We stopped by the organic shop, so I could pick up some olive and coconut oils, organic grass-fed butter, and a bag of sea salt to have at his place.

Back home, we started putting away the groceries in between Phil chowing down on strawberries.

A soft knock came from the side panel door.

“Come in!” he called out.

A few seconds later, Sheri appeared, slightly flushed. She made eye contact with me and attempted to smile. She gave me a shy, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I replied cheerfully.

Curious. I wonder what sort of fresh hell this is.

“Yeah?” grunted Phil, sounding testy.