Take Me Home Tonight (21 page)

Thank God she hadn't failed in front of her dad.

*   *   *

“Dad.”
Mimi wove through the crowd backstage and ran straight into his arms. “I can't believe you came.” She breathed in the cologne he'd worn her whole life and sank into his tight embrace. Just around his shoulder, she caught sight of Calix, watching her with a smile.

Her dad pulled back. “Well, this guy made sure I did.”

Calix came to her side, and she gazed up at him. “You invited my dad?”

He gave the slightest shrug, as if to dismiss the effort.

“I can't believe you did that.
How
did you do that?”

“I had Violet ask your mom for me.” He reached his hand out to her dad. “Glad to meet you in person, Mr. Romano.”

As they shook hands, her heart filled to overflowing. She was just so happy to have Calix with her. Happy that he'd shown up at the train station and chosen to be with her, and happy that he'd cared enough to get her dad to come to the show.

“Calix is an unusual name.” Her dad was six feet tall and had a solid build, but he was dwarfed by Calix.

She looped an arm through Calix's. “He has unusual parents.”

“It's Greek, and it means ‘very handsome.'” Calix smiled. “We're not Greek, and no one would call the Bourbons handsome, so I have no explanation for the name.”

“I see. Well, Calix, it's nice to meet you.” He had his gaze fixed on where their arms joined. “You never did say how you knew my daughter.”

“He's with Blue Fire, Dad. He's the guy on the motorcycle.”

Her dad's eyes narrowed on Calix. “You brought my daughter into the city on a motorcycle?”

Mimi burst out laughing. “No, Dad.”

“I took the truck. This time.”

Not many people stood up to her dad, and Mimi found it hot that Calix had.

Her dad rocked back on his heels, clearly not too happy with her taste in friends. “I see.”

Calix might not know it, but he'd just been deleted from Dino Romano's files. She knew without a doubt the next time she mentioned Calix's name, her dad would say, “And who is that?”

“So.” Her dad rubbed his hands together. “We'll have dinner.” Her dad said it to Mimi, as though Calix no longer existed.

Mimi drew Calix closer. “You hungry, sweet cheeks?”

Calix gazed at her with mischief in his eyes. “I could eat, sweet pants.”

“Good.” Her dad turned, heading toward the exit. “We'll
celebrate tonight's victory, and I'll share my good news with you.”

“News?”

He pulled her closer to the wall, away from the chaos. “I've made some calls.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “I spoke with Monte Camarillo.”

Mimi crashed. All the adrenaline from the day—Calix icing her out, the high stress of the show, the shock of seeing her dad in the audience—just knocked her on her ass. “Dad.”

“Send him a résumé. He's looking forward to meeting you.” Her dad gave her a knowing smile. “Their specialty is franchise equity investments, which is a great place for you to be. And he said their director of investor relations could use some help.”

Bringing up Miami now? Really?
“No, thank you.”

He looked like she'd refused the winnings from a lottery ticket. “Excuse me?”

“Dad, I'm in the middle of a competition.”

“I'm aware of that. You did a wonderful job today. I'm so proud of you.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You're doing great, but when it's over . . .” He shrugged again, still smiling. “You'll take this very good opportunity with the boys in Florida.” He grew serious. “And it's a necessary path to work with me.”

Necessary
path
?
“You know something, Dad? I'm going to take a rain check on that dinner. I've got a splitting headache. It's been a really rough twelve hours, and I just need to crash.”

“That's fine. I'll take you home. You'll stay with me tonight, and I'll make you fettuccine.”

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, drawing her tight to Calix's warm, hard body. “We've got plans, Mr. Romano, but thank you.”

Her dad's jaw hardened, and he gave Calix a challenging look. Then, he softened when he looked at Mimi. “Melie, my love. We'll have dinner. You'll watch a movie.” He said it with so much affection she found it hard to stay angry.

“I don't think so, Dad. Honestly the last thing I want to talk about is a job opportunity in Miami—or Paris or Hong
Kong. Because I'm going to win this competition, and to do that, I have to keep my head in the game.”

“Amelia. Stop this right now. You can't think . . .” He gestured impatiently. “You made a
salad
. You can't think my team will take you seriously for what you're doing here.”

The cut burned
,
but she did her best to ignore it. She got up on her toes and planted a kiss on his after-shave-scented cheek. “Of course they'll take me seriously. This show's going to open doors that'll not only be new to you but otherwise unavailable to an unemployed twenty-four-year-old.” She couldn't keep the exhaustion from her voice. “This isn't a reality TV show. It's a cooking show. And people will want to feed off the celebrity that will flow from it. I'll be known as the Ivy League MBA chef who gets shit done.” She gazed up at him. “Come on, Dad. I've trusted your judgment for years. Don't you think it's time you returned the favor?”

As she and Calix made their way down the crowded corridor, she called over her shoulder, “Thanks for coming, though. I really appreciate it.”

*   *   *

Mimi
hadn't even pulled her keys out of the lock before Calix had her up against the wall inside her apartment, his big hands cupping her ass, his mouth hot and hungry over hers. He kissed her slowly, deeply, and so sensuously she lost herself in him completely.

When he tried to push closer and met with her messenger bag, he pulled away. Eyes glazed, mouth wet and lips swollen, he let her down like he couldn't bear to take his hands off her.

Lifting her braids, he pulled off the bag and immediately had her back up against the wall. His tongue stroked inside her mouth, and his hips rocked into her. “Need you naked.”

She was so hot, so wildly submersed in sensation, she could barely force her lips to form words. “Shower.”

“The best kind of naked.”

She grinned against his mouth. “You have to set me down first.”

“Not letting you go.” He carried her across the small living room and kneed the bathroom door open. She had to tighten
her legs and arms around him when he leaned into the shower stall to turn on the faucet. The moment he set her down, he reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off. “Naked, sweet pants. Now.”

With all this energy racing through her, her fingers didn't have the strength to manipulate the stud of her jeans. He batted her hands away, popping the button and unzipping them. He yanked them down, and she kicked off her Converse so he could pull them off her legs.

As he shoved off his own jeans, she started to work the elastics in her hair.

“Leave the braids.”

A sharp sting of awareness sizzled through her, and she shuddered.

His eyes flared. “Does that have something to do with your fantasy?”

She nodded, trying for a mischievous smile, but she was too worked up to pull it off. “That's for you to find out.”

Gripping her hips, he pulled her up against him. “Tell me.”

God, she loved his possessive hold on her. “You'll know. When you do it to me, you'll definitely know.”

“Fuck, Mimi.” He drew her T-shirt over her head. She lifted her arms, but before he could pull the shirt off, his hands covered her breasts, plumping them together in the lacy bra. He lowered his face into her cleavage and licked.

She moaned as a fiery wash of sensation swept through her. Needing to see him, she tore the shirt off and then reached behind to unhook her bra.

Calix dropped to his knees, pressing his nose to her lacy boy shorts. He clutched her ass, drawing her to his face. The moment he licked her clit through her panties, electricity flashed through her.

Her hips rocked, and he pushed the lace aside. And then his tongue was inside her, making a delicious sweep that forced her up on her toes. Her fingers dug into his silky hair as she tried to keep her knees from buckling.

His tongue flicked over her clit, his hands gripping her ass, spreading her cheeks. She wanted to see him, his whole body,
his expression, but honest to God, he had her in a state of arousal so wild she couldn't move a muscle.

Her legs shook, and her fingers fisted in his hair. The burn spread along her limbs, tingling to the soles of her feet, and her head tipped back as all her senses narrowed to the rising climax that rose so powerfully it threatened to obliterate her. “Mother of God.”

Sliding two fingers inside, he rubbed her inner walls, making her feverish with desire. The tension churned through her, tightening until—Oh, God—ecstasy burst free, sending her soaring, toppling through the air.

His licks turned more languid, more sensual, sparking one climax after another.

When her fingers relaxed in his hair, he sat back on his heels, eyeing her with fierce hunger.

Hands on his knees, he stood up. “Naked.”

The moment she skimmed off her panties, he grabbed her arm and practically shoved her into the tub, rolling the door so hard it slammed and the glass rattled. Angling her under the spray, he tipped her head back, letting the warm water spread across her scalp.

His mouth opened on her neck, his tongue flicking gently, sensuously, as his hands caressed from her shoulders down to her hands. “Mimi.” He whispered her name like a blessing.

She reached for the body wash, popped the top, and poured some in her palm. Then she rubbed her hands together, spreading the lather across his muscular chest. His rock-hard erection at her stomach demanded attention, so she caressed down his torso.

When she wrapped her soapy hands around him, he hissed in a breath, reaching behind to clutch her ass and give it a squeeze. Swirling her hands in opposite directions, she tugged on him, watching his expression turn wild with pleasure.

When she started to lower herself to her knees, he reached under her arms and dragged her up his body. “As much as I want your mouth on me, I need to be inside you. Need to make you mine.”

Make you mine
. Didn't he know? She was his. She'd give him everything she had if only he wanted it.

He reached for the body wash, lathered up, and then soaped the back of her neck, his strong fingers kneading the tense muscles down to her shoulders, where he massaged with firm, delicious strokes.

“That feels so good.” She couldn't help eyeing that erection, so hard it knocked against his belly. Without thinking, she reached for him.

He jerked his hips back. “Mimi.”

“Need you.” She wanted him so badly. She knew the feel of him in her mouth, the ridge on her tongue. The taste of him at the back of her throat.

“It'll be over too fast.” His features hardened as he made slow, soapy circles down her chest until he found her breasts.

She moaned as those big hands slid over her, cupping and pushing them together. His fingers circled her nipples, gentle, soft strokes. So good. Between her legs, she pulsed and ached with need. And then his hands glided down her stomach until one finger parted her curls and stroked inside. Sensation tore through her, and she arched into him. One hand skimmed her ass, fingers teasing between the cheeks, while the other swept through her sensitive folds.

“Calix.” Her heart thundered, and a flash flood of desire threatened to knock her knees out.

“Rinse.” He turned her to the spray, washing the soap off. By the time she'd finished, he was waiting by the sink, one towel wrapped around his waist, the other open for her.

Holy Mother of God, that bare chest. Broad shoulders, tan skin, a smattering of silky soft hair, and that mouthwatering expanse of ripped torso that tapered to powerful hips. The man had the body of a warrior.

She walked into his arms, pressing her mouth to his warm, damp skin, and he quickly toweled her off.

“Bed. Now.”

“My hair.” She started to turn to the mirror when he lifted her, delivering her to the neatly made bed and gently setting her down.

Thighs pressed to the edge of the mattress, he watched her
for a moment, feral hunger so clear on his features she squirmed. She cupped her breasts, pushing them together, and pinched her nipples.

He got on his knees and stalked toward her, his intention so carnal, so wicked, her thighs clamped together and her hips lifted off the bed. But those big hands gripped her knees and pushed her legs apart. His face went between her legs, and just as he got close enough to lick, he pulled back. His finger stroked the ink between her hips and pelvis. “Mimi.”

She smiled because he'd found it. Only two other guys had ever gotten to see it.

Slowly, he looked up at her. “Who did this to you?”

Not when or why, but who. She loved his possessiveness. “A tattoo artist in the East Village.”

His thumb stroked across it.

“Do you like it?” Her voice shook.

“It's fucking hot.” His tongue traced the path of bluebirds holding a string of tiny red hearts from her hip bone to just below her bikini line. “Really fucking hot.” With a big hand on each thigh, holding her wide open, he looked up at her. “Why'd you get it?”

“I want the men I let inside me to know they mean something. That I only let them in because they've touched my heart.”

A shadow crossed his features, and he turned harsh. “How many men have seen it?”

“Are you going to tell me how many women you've been with?”