Whiskey Sharp: Torn

by Dane, Lauren

  Maybe snorted as she bumped her hip to Vic’s. “It’s very sweet, but she’s got like seven plus months to go. So ease up there or she’s going to push you out of the air lock before the middle of her second trimester.”

  “Go bother your husband,” Vic told his sister-in-law with a grin.

  Laughing, Maybe skipped up to Alexsei, who took her hand and planted a kiss on top of her head as they walked.

  “Are you cooking tonight?” Cora asked Beau.

  “Nope. I’m there to enjoy the food with you at my side and our friends all around. Ian’s team is fucking amazing. Better chefs than me by far.”

  She scoffed and he hugged her to his side.

  “There are no chefs better than you, duh.” There might be better cooks or whatever, but none of them were him.

  “I’m a decent, inventive cook who had the luck to land a television gig. I have good business sense and excellent management so all my money goes where it should be and everyone does well.”

  “Didn’t you slay sauce today? Hello. Exhibit A. I said it. It’s true. There. Glad we got that settled.”

  “I really have nothing in response to that so I’ll accept the compliment and move on,” Beau said.

  He took them in through the restaurant and through the kitchen, where the large chef’s table was set and waiting for them all.

  Ian came out and, after greeting Gregori and Beau, he turned to the rest of the group. “Welcome, everyone. I hope y’all are ready to eat.”

  Beau and Gregori took turns introducing Ian, who’d been the one who introduced Beau to Gregori, who’d been a scrappy up-and-coming artist at the time. Not in the United States for very long, he’d become part of a group that included several other young men also out of place or far from everything they’d known. And from what Cora could see from the way they interacted, it had given them all a foundation of safety and brotherhood.

  They’d learned about how to be better people, better men, through one another’s trials and tribulations, and Beau was totally sure he would not be there without their support and example.

  He wanted to show it off to Cora. Wanted her to see who’d been such an integral part of making him the man he was that day.

  Cora leaned against her fist, a smile on her face as she listened to Len describe their first course.

  Beau realized he hadn’t ever in his life been so lighthearted. She made him laugh. Made him think. Respected him but didn’t take him too seriously. Good to his friends and appreciative of their work and what made them tick.

  He took the hand she wasn’t propped against, threading his fingers through hers before leaning over to kiss her knuckles. Her smile deepened and she shifted slightly to be closer to him.

  Ian came and went as he occasionally got up to take a cruise through the restaurant to make sure everything was going smoothly, but when the main course arrived, he settled at the table across from them, Beau knew, to get to know Cora better.

  “How did you come to end up running an art gallery?” Ian asked.

  “I grew up in the gallery. Surrounded by art and artists. Then as I started to travel and work all over the world with my mother, I took classes, got my degree in art history. Because my mom had connections I was able to intern in some of the best museums with all manner of curators and directors. Taught me a lot about how I would and definitely would not run a gallery. Reinforced how much I love the gallery and the chance to run it.”

  “I know Gregori and I can’t wait to see what you do with the gallery now that you’re running it full-time,” Wren said.

  She talked about her plans for an upcoming series of shows and ended up recommending a few artists to Ian.

  “Speaking of artistry, I’ve eaten at Northstar a few times and really loved it. Creative, solid menu. Well worth the drive up to Bellingham,” Cora said of Ian’s restaurant and bed-and-breakfast on several acres of a working farm about two hours north of Seattle.

  It was Ian’s pet project and a compliment of it probably raised her up quite a bit in Ian’s estimation.

  His eyes lit. “In the spring we’re going to do a wine festival weekend. You and Beau should come up and stay.”

  “Awesome. I’d love to. You’re Rian Brewster’s son, right?”

  Ian nodded, a little wariness back in his gaze.

  “My father designed the garden at his house. I was just at Dad’s office last week and he had photos of it. Gorgeous. Did you grow up there?”

  The wariness washed away. Ian was second generation famous. His father had been a model and then an actor. He’d met Ian’s mother when she’d been his orthopedic surgeon. Two utterly gorgeous and super successful and charismatic people united to form a marriage Beau held as a goal to achieve one day.

  “Yes, I grew up there. Went to school in Bellingham. I got scouted at the mall, which is such a cliché,” Ian said.

  “The grounds look so lush and quiet. My dad said it was blissful and smelled perfect. That’s a big compliment, in case that wasn’t clear.”

  They talked a while longer as Cora revealed her brother was going to start working more with their father’s business since she’d be taking on more over at the gallery. A happy set of choices and opportunities for both siblings.

  After a really amazing dinner, they walked out to the front, where Ian had a car waiting to take them all back the few blocks to Whiskey Sharp.

  “You want to sleep over at my place tonight?” Beau asked her. He had gotten used to her at his side as he slept, to the point that when they weren’t together it felt off.

  “I have an early meeting at the gallery, and then I’m going over to my parents’ for a family lunch. I need to be close to work so it’s better if I sleep in my own bed tonight.”

  He took her hand. “Say good-night to your friends and I’ll drive you home.”

  She looked up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Will you stay at my house instead? I’ll make coffee on my way out so you can have some when you wake up.”

  He nodded but it wasn’t until they were nearly all the way back to her house that he said, “I’m glad you asked me to stay over.”

  She made a happy sound. “I should confess it’s easier to sleep with you there. And it gives me a reason to have really good cheese and butter because you make that little sneer if there are ingredients you find substandard.”

  He nearly guffawed. “I do not! I ate blocks of processed cheese on bread that was more corn syrup than baked good when I was growing up.”

  “There are things you have to do because your options are limited and things you don’t have to do when you have the choice. Funny how when I look in your fridge at the condo I never find processed cheese or crappy bread.”

  “Busted. Life’s too short to eat crappy cheese or awful bread when you have an alternative.”

  “I might embroider that on a pillow for your bed,” Cora said. “Oh, and I had the opportunity to grab an extra parking place when someone else gave it up. So you can park there instead of having to hunt for street parking.”

  That gave him pause. Filled him up with a sense of belonging. Of home and safety.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I want you to know what I feel

  as translated through my lips and fingertips

  INSIDE, SHE DIDN’T bother with the lights, instead leading them both to her bedroom.

  “No. Let me,” she said, sliding her hands down the front of his shirt to his waist, drawing the material up.

  There were no other words as she unbuttoned her way from the tail of his shirt to his throat and slid the fabric away from his torso. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, her head pressed to his chest over his heart.

  Usually there was so much heat between them that it was all teeth and snarls, fast and hard. But this time it was
about slow. Taking the time to kiss the space between two of his ribs before licking, enjoying his taste.

  He made a soft sound. Surrender. Assent. And because it was Beau, a demand.

  It made her smile against his skin before she dragged her teeth over his left nipple. He dug his fingertips into her hips, holding her against him.

  Heat and sex rose from him, blanketed her senses until she was drunk with him. Cora circled his body to press herself against his back. So broad and strong, muscles rippling as she swept her palms across it, down his sides and up his spine again.

  From behind, she unbuckled his belt and pants, sliding them, along with his boxers, over an absolutely spectacular ass, complete with some freckles up near his tailbone, and then down his legs.

  She knelt before him, placing his hand on her shoulder, letting him know to lean against her as she helped him step free.

  So many people simply got one look at Beau and that was it. The stunning looks were all they were able to see. All he was.

  But Beau was so much more. The way his hands rested on her, touched her without violence though he easily could have. He used his hands to cook for her. To nurture the people he cared about.

  Every layer of him she was lucky enough to peel back revealed a person she desired to know even more.

  Cora pressed a kiss to his knee and then up his thigh. The wiry hair there tickled against her lips and cheek. Content and happy to her toes, she breathed him in, brushing her cheek against his cock and hugging around his waist.

  She had to close her eyes as he slid his fingers through her hair, freeing it from the pins holding it up.

  “Your hair is so fucking soft. And when I take it out of whatever complicated thing you’re wearing it doesn’t just come loose, it tumbles down around your shoulders,” he murmured. “Sweet smelling and a little spicy, like a wave of sex.”

  What could she even say to that? How could she express just how it made her feel to know he saw her the way he did.

  She breathed him in, the subtle scent of his skin, the tang of him on the flat of her tongue as she laved from root to tip. His moan shifted into a snarl and the hands that had only moments before been caressing, tightened in her hair.

  She went hot and cold all over at the feeling. Overwhelmed to the point where she had to let go and trust him. He paused; she knew he was listening to her cues, giving her the space to take a step back or indicate she was uncomfortable.

  The way he checked in with her, always making sure her pleasure was central and definitely willing, was deeply sensual.

  He was so patient.

  Respectful.

  Sexy as hell. Oh my god, he turned her to jelly.

  Cora wanted him to know she found him beautiful, yes, but that she saw to the bone and wanted him. Knew him—and that was what attracted her the most.

  She kissed down the length of him and back up as his impatience practically vibrated from the muscles in his thighs.

  Taking him into her mouth, she made herself go slow. Teasing. Tasting. Wanting him to know through every touch just how she saw him.

  It turned her upside down, shoved her out a window and into free fall to be so connected with him.

  He groaned and she gave in to the delight of having that sort of power over him, sliding her hands up his calves and thighs and over the planes of that seriously fantastic belly. She dug her nails in before dragging them down, one to grip the root of him and the other to cup his sac.

  Let herself wallow in the salt of his skin.

  * * *

  SOMETHING DEEPER AND sharper edged than mere desire swelled through Beau as he watched her. On her knees. It wasn’t just that it felt good. It was that she took her time. Her attention was totally on him, the weight of it a comforting thing.

  And it was blisteringly hot. Because it was Beau and Cora. The combination wasn’t just physical but emotional and it made everything more raw and intense.

  In his life, given his past, he’d learned and exhibited control when it came to the people in his life. Letting her in, letting her this close had been out of his control because there was nothing but letting her in. She was meant to be there.

  But it meant being more exposed with her than he had been with anyone else. Knowing what he knew as an adult, understanding what it truly meant to tell secrets to someone—and to have that trust violated—what it was to be that vulnerable.

  It terrified him, just how much he craved that with her.

  A rush of pleasure swelled from his balls straight to his scalp as she took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the head of his cock, stunning him into a grunt as his orgasm began to dig itself into his gut.

  She wasn’t just erotic; she managed to make him feel comforted after all the strangeness of the last several days.

  Cora drew him deeper and deeper into her mouth, hot and wet, tempting him with glimpses of her face. Flashes of disappearing between those lips over and over, as her hair moved, rendering it in bits and pieces like an old-school flip book.

  When she added her fist just below her mouth it was too much. More than his control could manage and he came hard and fast. In such a rush it felt as if every last bit of sensation was being wrung from his cells.

  Still, he stumbled to pick her up and plop her on the bed so he could be the one on his knees.

  He made short work of getting her naked, exposed to his hands and mouth. She drove him to pet, to cosset and delight. He ached to wrench every sigh and gasp of pleasure he could from her.

  When he parted her and breathed softly against her pussy she sucked in a slow, shaky breath. Made him feel like a superhero.

  Once he took a taste with a long, slow lick, he paid her every last bit of his attention. Kissing, nuzzling with lips, the gentle tug and suck until she writhed against him, rocking her hips, seeking more sensation.

  She was velvet soft at the spot where her leg met her body. Super sensitive as he licked across it. Soon enough though he was drawn back to the heart of her. Drawn in by that slick, delicious, inferno-hot pussy.

  A stuttered breath and then one of her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him to her as she came in a hot rush.

  He got into bed on what he now thought of as his side of the bed, working up enough strength to pull her fully onto the mattress and into the curve of his body.

  “Even better than the brown butter cake with plums we had tonight,” he said into her neck as he kissed her there.

  Her quiet laugh made him smile.

  “That cake was pretty amazing. As was the whole dinner. Ian was awesome to have invited us all,” she said.

  It had been Ian’s way of opening their group up to begin including Cora and her friends and that she seemed to get that pleased Beau a great deal.

  “Telling him about how much you liked Northstar was a nice thing,” he told her. “It’s been something he wanted since back when we first met.” Beau’s friend wanted to prove himself to the world. On his own, not because he was the son of Rian Brewster.

  Northstar had been Ian’s flag. Planted to say he had a unique vision that included gardens and an inn along with a restaurant that would be something worth taking the time to visit. To savor fine food and wine. To roam through vast gardens that would supply the kitchen. Views of the land and water around.

  “The whole place is part of the plate,” Cora said sleepily.

  “I really can’t wait to look at properties with you.” Beau hadn’t meant to say it but it seemed impossible to keep himself from telling Cora things. “You see the world through such a unique perspective, I mean,” he added.

  She snickered. “Nice save.”

  “I mean it. You’re going to notice how the light might reflect off the kitchen cabinets, or how the trees might sound in the spring.”

  She turned in his arms and snuggled into hi
m, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “That’s a really nice compliment.”

  “It’s a really nice quality,” he returned, kissing the top of her head. “How did you end up best friends with the Dolan sisters anyway?”

  “I met Rachel through Ink Sisters. She came recommended by Bee but Finley saw the same spark in her too. Rachel was so determined to live. I don’t know any other way to describe it better. She had a plan and she was so focused on it. It just... She needed a friend and I needed a friend so we ended up friends. Maybe and I ended up meeting at this little sandwich shop that eventually turned into our regular lunch spot. She liked orange soda and so do I. She had a great sense of style. We just clicked. And then as a group of three it worked too. Like I became one of their sisters and they became two of mine. The family of my heart, I suppose. What about you? Are you in contact with any of your family at all?”

  “A few cousins from the branch of my mom’s family. They gave me a place to live for the first six months after I left the group. I’m not real close to them, though they always remember my birthday and I do go to the special occasion events like graduations. The family of the heart thing though? I totally get that. Until I met Ian and his grandfather, the only older men who’d had any real influence on me had been my father’s bishops. They were all under his control. He told them how to parent.”

  In his arms, Cora settled against him a little tighter. Giving comfort without words.

  “Ian’s parents were really busy working so when he had work outside Seattle and one of them couldn’t be there, Pops would come. Whatever apartment or house they were in was where I wanted to be. Pops worked at The Northwest Grand in the kitchens there for forty years so there was always something good on the stove or in the oven. I was taught that cooking was women’s work. Pops made sure I learned just how silly that was. He taught me how to cook. He’s the reason I am where I am now. It was nice that Ian came along with the package since he turned out to be my closest friend. But Pops became the father figure I needed. He taught me what it was to be an adult. To be a good man.”