Whiskey Kisses

  Holt pulls a plate from the nightstand—a tower of pancakes swimming in syrup.

  “In that case, I lied.” I sit up and pull the sheets to my chest. “I’m absolutely starving.”

  “Good, because I’m starving, too.” Holt plunges his fork into the gooey confection and breaks off a piece. “I’m going to feed you.”

  “You’re going to feed me?” An involuntary purr filters from my throat. He slips the first bite into my mouth—warm and light as air. I give a hard moan. “Mmm—that’s perfection. Did you make those? I think you missed your calling.”

  “I did, and thank you. By the way”—he tilts into me with that sexier-than-hell half drugged look on his face—“it’s pretty damn erotic watching you eat.”

  “Really. Well, you’re in luck because it’s no rarity. I’m pretty religious about getting three square meals a day. And I’m not shy about it either.”

  “We’ve got that in common. Plus, I like to cook.”

  “So you’re saying you’re handy both in and out of the bedroom.” I wrap my arms around him, giving his bare bottom a squeeze. “You’re just one surprise after another. I should have guessed. Those grilled cheese sandwiches were the best I’ve ever had.”

  “I figured the only reason you were hanging around was to score another one.”

  “I did say I’d do anything. Am I close?”

  “You’re getting there.” He feeds me another ultra soft bite—sweet and buttery as sin.

  “Mmm. I don’t know which I like best. These are pretty darn good.”

  He lands the plate back on the nightstand and lies over me, hot to the touch. Holt blinks a smile. His eyes glaze over with lust, and that tender spot between my legs spasms.

  “I was sort of hoping you’d say you liked this one best.” Holt melts an impossibly delicious kiss onto my mouth that far exceeds any common breakfast fare, any grilled meal anyone could ever come up with. Holt is scrumptious on a sublime level. This is the food of the gods. Holt is turning water into wine and delivering the miracle straight to my mouth. The room sways. The bed gives a soft roll as I drink him down, becoming inebriated off our love all over again. Right now the only thing I want to feast on is Holt Edwards’ body. I’m already drunk off his affection—addicted to his deep-throated syrup sweet kisses, the heavenly scent of wild musk his skin naturally gives off.

  “I changed my mind.” I moan as he works his way down my chest. “I definitely like this one best. You win, Holt. You’re my favorite meal.”

  Something cool drips over my stomach and takes my breath away. My eyes spring open to find Holt drizzling syrup straight from the bottle over my bare skin in a large growing circle.

  “You!” A laugh bubbles from my throat, and I give a weak attempt at pushing him away.

  “I thought you might want to sweeten things up.” He lands the syrup back on the nightstand before swiping his finger through the gooey mess. “Would you like the first lick?”

  I take his finger and plunge it into my mouth like a threat. Holt’s eyes widen before he settles into that lewd grin I’ve grown to crave.

  “I like how you think.” I skim the syrup off my body and place my hand over that part of him that’s most enthused to see me. “I’d like to give you a proper good morning, then we can officially move on to an equally pleasant afternoon, and you won’t believe what I have planned to satisfy you this evening.”

  “I’ve always pegged you for a sex siren.”

  “Siren, huh?” Something stirs in me and pushes me further than I thought I could ever go. “How about I make you go off like a siren.” I slink down the bed and touch my lips over his sticky sweet body, down past his stomach, past his hips to where he’s already saluting my efforts. “Get ready to scream.”

  Holt is amazingly long, impossibly hard. I’m still stuck on how he could ever fit into my body let alone how he might fit in my mouth. My lips find him, and I take him in, plunging down over and over, ironically drawing on my lesson in the erotic arts from Jemma of all people. I guess her public spectacle of a tutorial had its benefits after all. I can practically hear her scolding me, no teeth!

  Holt twists my body, pulling my legs toward his lips. He buries a kiss in my stomach, then lower still until his mouth finds me right in that sweet spot that’s been secretly waiting for him to do just that.

  I pull back and catch my breath a moment before landing my mouth over him again. A blissful eternity stretches by as we take our time getting there. The world spins faster. The room pulsates with a heartbeat all its own as my entire body thumps in rhythm to the universe. Holt and I are weightless, hopelessly lost in our bliss in this new world of our own making. We are levitating to the ceiling—floating right through the beams and into the night. We burn through the sky, and even that is not enough. We’re soaring into the stratosphere, swimming through space, racing toward the sun. This is the climax of my entire existence. I never knew it could be this brilliant, that I could feel so explosively alive all at once.

  I pull my mouth off him as my body gives way to a violent series of spasms.

  “Holt.” My skin sizzles with a quake that wakes up every nerve in my body and bathes them in an ecstasy that rails through me like a tuning fork. A warm gush of liquid pulsates over my neck as Holt meets me right there at the finish line.

  We clutch onto one another with our feverish bodies, wet and alive with passion as we try to catch our breath.

  This is amazing.

  And it wouldn’t be this wonderful without Holt.

  I want to keep him, but a part of me knows I can’t.

  Holt

  Two days straight she stayed. Izzy Sawyer landed her beautiful self in my bed, and I didn’t have to resort to five way restraints to keep her there.

  Bryson asked if I could meet him at the Ice Bar. It’s a good drive, but the next closest bar to the Black Bear as far as the ones that my father owns. The outside of the establishment is painted a crisp blue with a giant plastic glacier sitting on the roof—my mother’s doing. I remember how much my father protested the idea. He wanted an overgrown martini glass, but my mother and her ode to the North Pole won out. And then she planted a penguin on that damn block of fake ice as if to prove a point. That pretty much accounts for all the kids we’ve had wandering into the place looking for the polar exhibit. Maybe not her brightest idea. But then again maybe it was. Maybe it was the big fuck you for his infidelity issues.

  I stroll into the dim environment. The entire place is cold as a witch’s tit. The bar and floors are made of acrylic, but it’s frigid as a meat locker in here. There’s a special room in back with an ice luge, and, if you’re not careful, you can freeze your tongue to your glass. It happens almost nightly because God knows someone has to test out the theory. All of the bartenders are thoroughly trained to deal with any lingual emergencies that might arise. Once, we had a couple try to pull off a quickie, and the idiot sued us for his frost bitten blue balls. People can be dumb as fuck.

  I spot Bryson in the back and head on over.

  “What’s up, baby bro? You forget how to get back home? A little black bird swoop down and gobble up all your bread crumbs?”

  “The only bird I see around here is a dodo.” He gives a short-lived grin. “Oh, wait, that’s you.” He smacks me over the arm with his clipboard. “Check this out you moron.” He points up to a nice size crack that snakes through the drywall.

  “You dragged me out here to watch you do a patch job?”

  “Nope. I dragged you out here to help inspect this place from floor to ceiling. Dad says the city is after him. They’re sending out inspectors in a couple weeks to detail the place. If we’re going to get a loan, we’ll need this place to sparkle and shine.”

  “Back up the train. ‘If we’re going to get a loan?’”

  “That’s right, sweetheart. Did I stutter? Just because I’ve got a business degree is no reason to look down upon me.” He gives a sheepish grin. “You’re right, keeping the
bars would be a good decision. And, if you’re not too pissed at me, I want to do it with you.” He holds out his fist. “You all right with that?”

  I give him a quick knuckle bump. “I’m more than all right with that, dude. I am fucking in.” I glance around. “This could be all ours.” My sweet baby sis flashes through my mind. “We should figure out a way to include Annie.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” He nods. “Ryder said he’d get someone from his legal department to write something up for us. An agreement that binds us together in our new business venture.”

  “Sounds like a solid plan. Maybe that degree of yours is coming in handy after all.”

  “Maybe it is.” He motions over to the nearest table and we take a seat. “I’m sorry, dude. Swear to God, I’ll never rub it in your face again. I felt like shit when you left. Still do.”

  “It’s over. It’s like it never happened.” I lean onto my elbows while taking in my brother. Most of the time it’s like looking in a mirror, but that’s where the resemblance ends. Bryson is smart. He’s way too bright to ever have taken down our family in some stupid move that, in turn, kicked in my own destiny and spun it on its axis. I was the studious one in high school. I’m the one that convinced Bryson we should apply to any, and every, college that might let us in. Hell, we got our acceptance letters to Whitney Briggs the exact same day. But, by that point, I couldn’t live with myself. For sure I couldn’t focus in on a stack of textbooks. Nope. I was knee deep in emotional vomit and sinking fast.

  “So what’s going on with you?” Bryson nods like he knows. “Cole says you called in yesterday. You feeling okay?”

  A shit-eating grin is dying to break out on my face, so I give.

  He shakes his head. “No fucking way.”

  “Yes fucking way, and watch your language where my girl is concerned.”

  “Your girl?” He leans in amused. “So this is happening. Does Laney know?”

  “I doubt anyone knows.” I glance around as if I might accidentally spot Laney here. “She’s got this thing.” I blow out a breath. “I’m not really sure what it is. But she’s definitely got a hang-up about relationships. As far as I know we’re unclassifiable, but I’m all right with that.” I’m sort of gun-shy to claim a relationship myself—but I’m getting there. “All I know is I don’t want anyone else. I want Izzy. She’s all I ever wanted.”

  “I hear that.” His brows rise as if he still can’t wrap his head around it. “So you’re the real deal. Can’t wait to tell Baya.”

  “Dude, were you listening to anything I said? She’s skittish when it comes to stuff like that. She’s all torn up on the inside. Something serious went down with Izzy, and she’s spiraling through the air like a dove with a bullet through her wing.”

  He leans back and tries to connect with what I’m saying.

  “You love her?”

  “Yes.” I don’t hesitate with the answer. “And I’d swear on my life she loves me, too.”

  “Wait a minute. She’s that fragile, and I’m assuming the reason for the no-show was because you two were playing honeymoon, but you haven’t hit a verbal home run yet?” He ticks his head back a notch as if he’s calling bullshit.

  “True as God. Every word. She can’t say it.” I was willing to. Even though it went against everything I thought I stood for. I’m ready to break every rule in the book for Izzy.

  “Something is up.” He shakes his head. “You think she’ll break your heart?”

  A sharp sting knifes me in the gut. What if this whole Izzy thing is simply the universe’s way of getting back at me? Just some macabre retribution that I’ve had coming for the last several years. What if I’ve been looking the Semi in the headlights and mistaken them for Izzy’s bright smile? Shit. I close my eyes for a moment. I bet that’s what this is. My life doesn’t function in fairytale mode like my brother’s. According to him, Baya walked right up and flashed her tits. That’s how the golden boy gets introduced to the woman of his dreams. Not me—I meet my girl as some sexed up thirteen-year-old with a hard-on at the ready. From there it was girls with daddy issues and barflies galore, hypersexual coeds ready and willing to take me on—nothing but a string of one-night stands because I couldn’t stomach the idea of anything lasting longer. Nope never was lucky in the relationship department. Nor should I ever be.

  “What’s eating you, dude?”

  “Nothing’s eating me.”

  “Something is gnawing your balls off. Is it the fact you think she’s not in this for the long haul?”

  “No. It’s not that. This whole thing just got me worked up. I’m just wondering if maybe I should let go of a few of my own issues.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Bryson leans in, stares me down stern as shit. “What the hell happened after high school that threw you in the deep end of the Black Bear that you’ve yet to recover from?”

  “So you were onto me, huh?” A dull laugh rattles from my chest.

  “I’d like to say I know you as good as I know myself, but that stopped after senior year. You let me go to Whitney Briggs without so much as a goodbye. I knew you were moping but could never figure out why since you were the one who made the decision to sit out the first year. Then it turned into the second year—the third, and now here I am, Mr. Diploma, and you’re just as big a mystery as ever.” He tilts his head, never taking his eyes off mine. “What gives big bro?”

  “You hit all the ducks on the head so far.” I snatch up his notebook and stand. “Keep guessing.”

  I’m not telling.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  9

  All the Dirty Details

  Izzy

  Dad,

  Maybe I’m not as injured as I thought. I may have found a pinhole of light—heck, I know I did. It’s bloomed into a super nova, a star that’s exploding around me with all of its splendor. Is this what it feels like to fall in love? For the first time ever, I feel like I’m a part of something bigger than myself, bigger than the world, the universe. Who knew this wonderful force existed? Well, most likely everyone else. But as for me—it feels as if I’ve been reborn.

  New again in Hollow Brook,

  ~Your baby girl

  Jemma isn’t one to mince words. So when she demands I haul ass to her place ASAP I put on my running shoes and speed over. Usually this sort of distress signal from my BFF kicks off a spontaneous moving day, one in which we pack up her apartment before her soon-to-be ex comes home from the strip club. Lord knows I’ve helped her clear out a three bedroom in under thirty on more than one occasion. Only, when I walk in, there’s not a box in sight. No pile of broken dishes to attest to how pissed off she is, and not a single mound of “his expensive crap” awaiting a trip to the pawnshop. Instead, I find Jemma participating in a rather domestic activity—baking cookies. The kids are all lined up on the couch watching cartoons with their matching trance-like, surprisingly clean, faces.

  “Don’t judge.” She holds out a batter-laden spoon. “One day you’ll have an entire herd of rug rats, and you’ll wonder how I ever survived with my hair intact. I’m telling you, Sponge Bob makes a damn good babysitter, and he’s only one DVR away in a pinch.”

  “Got it.” I find this doubtful. For one, I haven’t even considered bringing my own children into this world, and two, my mother—

  Then it hits me. I had sex with Holt. It was the exact procreative measure necessary to fulfill such a wish list. My mouth falls opens, and I’m lost for a moment just daydreaming what children with Holt might look like when Jemma jabs me in the chest with her overgrown acrylic nail.

  “Knew it,” she snickers, grabbing a hold of me by the wrist. I follow her back to the kitchen where she pulls a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. “Spill it, Sawyer. Where, when, what, and, well, I think I know who.” She claws the air like a tigress in heat.

  “His place, the last two bliss-filled days, everything, and yes—Holt Edwards was
the prime suspect.” I plop down at the table and shove a hot cookie in my mouth.

  “Holy Jezebel.” She falls into the seat across from me, slacked jawed and pale. “There are so many miracles that just happened—I think we’d better get Mother Teresa on the line.”

  “Mother Teresa is dead.”

  “Then get the freaking Pope!”

  “I’m not Catholic. And I hardly think the ‘freaking Pope’ will give a rat’s ass. Relax, would you? Things just sort of progressed with Holt and me, the end. No need to drag religious hierarchy into this.”

  She gives a solemn nod. “So, did you mention anything about that whole—”

  “Nope.” I snatch another cookie off the pan. “And I don’t think I’m going to. It’s not important.”

  “You think?” Her face contorts in a grimace. “I guess I always thought once you got serious with someone, you’d be able to talk things through. There aren’t too many people out there you tell that stuff to. Plus, you know—it’s affected you. Don’t you think he’s picked up on that by now?”

  “Picked up on the fact I’m damaged goods? He’s a smart boy. I’m sure he’s known from the beginning. But, I’ve sort of skirted the topic each time he’s asked. He knows I’m not ready to go there. Besides, if I didn’t know better, I’d bet he’s got a few hang-ups of his own.”

  “Oh, hon—I swear over my dead mother’s grave that everyone’s got a hang up. Maybe that’s what makes you two peas in a pod. I bet that weird social juju you carry around like a torch attracted him to you. Moth to a flame.” She nods at her tired analogy.

  “Please. It did not. Holt says he’s been crushing on me since he was thirteen. In fact, that day it happened”—I glance at the tablecloth and pull on a stray fiber—“he was one of the last people I spoke to.” The memories rush back like a flood. It was just Holt and me in that stifling studio after the girls ran out to change. I can still see him standing there, looking at me a moment too long, and even then I knew what he was thinking. “He said I was beautiful.” Tears blur my vision, and I sniff them back, shoving another cookie in my mouth before they have a chance to surface. I swallow it down as if I were trying to dam up the past. “Jem”—I press my lips in tight—“I think I love him. In fact, I know I do.”