Taming My Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

“The view from right here is pretty great, too,” she said seductively.

  He glanced over his shoulder, catching her checking out his ass. She’d been flirting with him all afternoon and had cranked up her sass by about a zillion degrees. He wondered if she was taunting him as some sort of payback for the things he’d said last night or if this was who Dixie was outside of the watchful eyes of her family back in Peaceful Harbor. Whatever the reason, it was doing the trick. Between her sexy comments and her fuck-me outfit—skimpy cutoffs, knee-high black boots, and a black T-shirt that had TATTOOED BOYS ARE MY FAVORITE TOYS—he needed an ice bath for his dirty mind. She’d turned so many heads in the airport, on the plane, and now, on the busy sidewalk, he felt like a giant green-eyed monster was perched on his back. Thank God the store was closed. The last thing he needed was to get jealous over his employees.

  She raised a brow and said, “They say this city never sleeps. Do you think that means the Big Apple is full of workaholics, or that everyone’s up having wild sex all night?”

  Damn, she was good. About ten dirty retorts sailed through his mind, but he wasn’t going to touch that comment with a ten-foot pole. He pushed the door open and waved her in. “After you.”

  She sauntered past, and his gaze was riveted to her long legs and gorgeous ass. He carried her luggage inside and set it down along with his duffel, locking the door behind them.

  “Wow, I knew Silver-Stone was big, but I’ve never seen anything like this.” She turned in a slow circle, admiring the store.

  “It’s our flagship store,” he said proudly.

  This was the largest of their one hundred and twenty-two retail operations. While they had about half as many retail outlets as their closest competitor, Silver-Stone had outsold the competition for the past four years. The addition of several exclusive Silver-Stone dealers in Mexico and Canada had brought significant sales increases, to the tune of more than seventy-two percent annually.

  He watched Dixie as she walked around, running her fingers over helmets, T-shirts, leather jackets and boots, and eyeing the trinkets they sold. She went to the motorcycles at the front of the store and traced the sleek lines of several of the bikes.

  She tossed her thick mane over her shoulder and said, “Mind if I sit on this one?”

  “Go for it.” He went to her as she straddled an S-S Classic, gripping the handlebars and wiggling her ass on the leather seat.

  “Feels good.” She put both hands on the sides of the seat just inside her thighs and leaned forward, thrusting out her chest as she said, “Nice girth. I can’t help but wonder if everything about you is just as impressive.”

  Strangled laughter fell from his lips. “What are you doing, Dix?”

  She wiggled her shoulders, still posing on the bike like a sexy little minx, and said, “Just saying what’s on my mind.”

  He gritted his teeth, trying his damnedest not to act on the white-hot lust that had been scorching through him for days. She threw one long leg over the bike and pushed to her feet, stalking toward him like a jaguar on the prowl. Her eyes said fuck me, but when she stopped inches from him and thrust out one hip, her body language was far more challenging. She didn’t say a word for a long stretch of time. Her gaze traveled from his eyes to his mouth, lingering there so long heat stroked down his chest. Her tongue slid over the curves of her upper lip, then slowly traced her lower lip, and holy hell, he had visions of her mouth wrapped around his cock, his hands fisted in her hair.

  And just like that, he was rock hard.

  “Or maybe things aren’t quite so impressive,” she said evenly, chin dipped slightly, her voice toying with him. “Maybe that’s why you think I’d regret it if we got together.”

  He closed the distance between them, planting one foot beside hers, so his broad chest brushed her breasts, and spoke in a low, firm voice. “If I had less self-control, I’d bend you over that bike and show you just how wrong you are.”

  “Why all the control, Stone? Is it because I’m doing the calendar?”

  “I don’t normally mix business with pleasure, but as asinine as it sounds, no, it doesn’t have anything to do with that. Though it definitely should. I can’t be the stick-around guy you need, Dixie, and I don’t want to regret ruining you for any other man.”

  She made a frustrated sound and stalked away.

  He caught up to her in two long strides and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around. “What’re you doing, Dixie?” he seethed. “I’m not the guy for you. Why are you pushing my buttons when you know I’ll only break your heart?”

  She lifted her chin and said, “What makes you think I’m looking for a man to give my heart to?”

  Christ, she was putting up a brave face, but there was no disguising the vulnerability in her eyes. He was drowning in mixed emotions. He wanted to take her into his arms, into his bed, and worship her until she never felt that way again. But he knew what he had to do, so he said, “I never said you were, but I know you’re not looking for a guy like me.”

  Anger flickered in her eyes. “How about you let me decide for myself?”

  How could he have been so blind to his own actions? His chest constricted with the realization that last night when he’d told her she’d regret being with him, he’d taken away her ability to decide for herself the same way her brothers always had. Fuck. Now he was in a bigger quandary. In the space of a second, he weighed his options—give in to his desires and devour her until she lay boneless and sated in his arms, or do the right thing and protect Dixie by staying on the safe side of the line he’d drawn in the sand.

  Before he could decide how to respond, she said, “I like my men a little more decisive than this, Stone.”

  The challenge in her voice shredded his control.

  Fuck the line.

  He swept one arm around her waist, drawing her against him, and the air rushed from her lungs. Her gaze softened and her lips curved up as “Jace,” fell hot and breathy from her lips.

  A shrill, repetitive ringing sounded in his pocket, and he ground out a curse.

  “One of your harem?” Dixie said snarkily.

  “My sister Jennifer,” he said as the sound blared again. “I don’t do harems. I’m not good at sharing.” Answering the phone was the last thing he wanted to do, but he and Dixie were expected for dinner soon and he didn’t want his sisters to worry.

  “Surprising for a guy who thinks he’s as good as chocolate cake.” The shrill sound sliced through the tension. She leaned closer and whispered, “Better get that.”

  “This isn’t over.” He reluctantly released her to answer the phone.

  As he put the phone to his ear, Dixie said, “Once again, my decision, not yours.”

  DIXIE COULD BARELY breathe. Her body thrummed, her nerves were on fire, and her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She hadn’t meant to go after Jace so aggressively, but she’d spent the night being as turned on as she was angry. Why did every man in her life try to make her decisions for her?

  Jace was funny and kind to his sister, his voice light and reassuring. But the second he ended the call, he turned brooding and serious again, silently leading Dixie into the elevator. They’d been seconds away from kissing before his stupid phone rang, and she wanted that kiss. She stole a glance at him as they rode up the elevator to his apartment. The tension was so thick she could stack it up and build a fort. His eyes were locked on the elevator doors, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He carried one of her bags in each hand, his black leather duffel slung over his shoulder. He was so big and broad, he made the elevator seem far too small.

  The elevator opened directly into his apartment, and he motioned for her to go in. When he told her that he lived above the store, she’d expected a modest apartment, not an enormous two-story, industrial-type loft with an open floor plan and incredible views of the city. The walls were brick, the floors earth-tone marble and rich, dark wood. Two black leather sofas and two armchairs created a nook to their ri
ght, with a slate-gray throw rug beneath a glass-and-steel coffee table. On the wall behind the nook was a row of built-in bookcases and an archway that led into an office. Beyond the couches was a sleek black bar with four silver barstools. Expensive-looking cabinetry lined the wall behind the bar, and under-cabinet lights illuminated the counters. To their left was a stainless-steel kitchen, all clean lines and sharp corners. A gorgeous black table sat in front of the windows, and thick chains hung from the ceiling with downward-pointing lights. There were a few black-and-steel tables throughout the space with candles and open notebooks littering their surfaces. Everything in the place reminded her of Jace—sleek, sharp, and strong. But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who used candles, and she wondered if they were for the benefit of the women he entertained. That thought made her a little queasy, so she refocused on her surroundings.

  While the right side of the loft had two-story ceilings, the left side didn’t. Beside the kitchen, a black-metal staircase with stainless-steel posts and wires led to a second-floor balcony spanning the width of the apartment. She saw three doors and assumed they were bedrooms.

  “You live in the penthouse?”

  “Yeah,” he said in a clipped tone, heading for the staircase with their bags. “The bedrooms are upstairs.”

  She followed him up, and he set her bags inside the first door, turning to her with an expression that looked a little angry and a bit grief-stricken.

  “Listen, Dix, I didn’t mean to be an ass last night. I wasn’t trying to take any decisions out of your hands.”

  “No? Then maybe you should have said that you didn’t want to do anything you might regret.”

  “You’re absolutely right. This is all new to me. Usually, if I want a woman—”

  “Stop.” She held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear about the women you’ve been with any more than you want to hear about men I’ve been with. This isn’t about anyone but the two of us.”

  His jaw tightened again, and he ground out, “Right, sorry.” His eyes trained on hers, and he said, “You know I want you.”

  Hearing him say that, and the way he was looking at her, with as much desire as restraint, made her body tingle with anticipation.

  “You have invaded my every thought, and I can’t just turn off wanting you. But no matter how incredible we’d be together, and trust me, we would be fucking fantastic, almost kissing you was a mistake. I respect you too much to be the guy who takes advantage of this situation. The bottom line is, a night or two of immense pleasure that can’t lead to anything else isn’t worth hurting you.”

  “I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I’m not a pushover. I’d never let you, or any other man, take advantage of me. So if that’s what’s going on in that head of yours, you can hit your delete button and wipe it clean.”

  He cocked a grin. “If only it were that easy. You can’t turn off respect.”

  God, he was adorable, which was a strange thing to think about a large, powerful man like Jace, but he seemed to really be struggling with this. When she’d been in his arms, she’d felt his desire from his piercing gaze to the hard heat behind his zipper, and she wanted it all. But he was so damn righteous, she was obviously going to need to give him another little push.

  “Well, make up your mind, Stone, because it’s not my heart you should be worrying about. Better men than you have tried to tame this Whiskey, when all I really want is a good time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get changed before we leave to have dinner with your family.” She couldn’t help pushing his buttons and said, “Maybe you should take a cold shower, unless you’d like them to see you with a raging hard-on.”

  He ground out a curse, and she walked into her room, smiling like a peacock. But as she unpacked, she could hear Jace’s shower through the wall, and she imagined him naked, water streaming down his chest and abs to the formidable machine between his legs, and she started to sweat. Was he taking that into his own hands? Stroking himself to relieve the pressure they’d built up?

  Her pulse quickened, and she closed her eyes, biting her lip as she conjured an image of Jace, naked and wet, touching himself to visions of her in his mind. She pictured his jaw clenching, his hips thrusting, and the aggressive sounds he’d make when he came.

  She exhaled a long, uneven breath and headed for her own cold shower.

  Chapter Eight

  DIXIE WONDERED HOW many sides of Jace she was going to be treated to seeing tonight. From the moment they’d left his apartment, the heat between them had been simmering, thankfully at a level below boiling, which it had been at before they’d hit the showers. They’d caught a cab to Rush and Jayla’s, and on the way over, Jace gave her the rundown on his siblings and Jayla’s husband, Rush. She hadn’t been nervous about meeting Jace’s family. She was around new people all the time, and she took it in stride. But as they climbed the steps to his sister’s brownstone, Jace glanced over, sending another zing through her, and her nerves flared to life. She hoped his siblings wouldn’t notice the sexual tension hovering over them like clouds.

  The door swung open, and three beautiful brunettes peered out with bright smiles. Wow. There was no shortage of good-looking genes in the Stone family. It was easy to tell his sisters apart by Jace’s descriptions alone.

  “Jace!” Jayla squealed and leapt into Jace’s arms. She had to be the new mom, and the sister with whom Jace was closest.

  Jace laughed heartily as he embraced her, holding the gift he’d brought for her baby, Thane, in one hand. “Hi, Jay Jay.”

  He sounded so carefree, it took Dixie by surprise and helped ease her anxiety. It was heartwarming to see big, burly Jace softening with the embrace.

  As Jace set Jayla on her feet and handed her the gift he’d brought for Thane, another sister stepped forward with a warm expression. Dixie recognized Mia by her clothes alone. Jace had described her as a bundle of energy who cruised around in skinny jeans, low-cut blouses, and sky-high heels, who worked in the fashion industry. Tonight her skinny jeans were white, her spaghetti-strap blouse vibrant red, and her heels were taller than Dixie’s spike-heeled boots. Her hair was the darkest of the three sisters’, while Jayla’s was the lightest shade of brown.

  “Hi. I’m Mia. You must be Dixie. We’ve heard so much about you!”

  “Yes,” Dixie said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Jennifer, the high school principal who Jace had said was professional during the day and vamped it up in her off hours, pushed past Mia, wearing a black minidress. Her hair fell to the middle of her back in natural waves. “Hi. I’m Jennifer, and the one smothering Jace is Jayla.” She hugged Dixie, and then she stood back and looked Dixie up and down. She set her hands on her hips and said, “Damn, girl, Jace wasn’t kidding. You’re gorgeous. You definitely deserve to be the face of Silver-Stone. I love your tattoos.”

  “Thank you. I’m getting nervous about the shoot tomorrow.” She had been trying not to think about it, because every time she did, she froze inside. She’d thought she could pull it off as she had with Jillian’s fashion show, when she’d just walked down the catwalk strutting her stuff. But this was going to be way different. Earlier, Jace had reiterated that they would be taking still shots, which was making her more nervous than being a moving target. In the cab on the way over Jace had pointed to a billboard and said that she’d be up there one day representing Silver-Stone. She wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not, but it was overwhelming to think about. She looked at him as he hugged Mia, and he winked, setting her nerves on fire again.

  “You’re going to be phenomenal,” he said confidently. “You couldn’t screw this up if you tried, Dix. That’s why I chose you. You’re Dixie Whiskey, biker chick extraordinaire, from the tip of your gorgeous head to the soles of your leather boots. It not only runs in your blood, but it’s in your bones. You can’t lose that, fake it, or fuck it up.”

  “Wow,” Jayla said with a grin.

  Wow is right. His vehemenc
e made her want to believe him.

  “You’ll kick ass,” Jennifer said. “And Jayla can give you tips if you need them. She’s done tons of sponsorship photo shoots.”

  “Definitely,” Jayla said. “Mia too. She works with models all the time.”

  “Absolutely,” Mia agreed.

  Dixie felt better just knowing she had a few friendly females to lean on. “Thank you. And thanks for letting me tag along tonight.”

  “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jayla went in for a hug and said, “Jace never brings women home, so we’re all pretty curious.”

  “Jayla,” Jace warned as they followed his sisters inside.

  “Oh, please,” Jennifer said. “Like you didn’t know we’d be curious?”

  “You used to question all the guys we went out with. Now it’s our turn,” Mia said.

  Jace’s jaw clenched as they went into the living room, and Dixie had to chuckle to herself. She loved watching him squirm. There was definite power in having sisters to outnumber the males in the family.

  Rush and Jayla’s home was warm and welcoming, with brightly colored furniture and throw blankets draped over the backs of the sofa and armchairs. Bookshelves held more family photos than books, and the walls were decorated with winter-themed landscapes and more family pictures. French doors led to a balcony with flower boxes overflowing with colorful blooms. The open floor plan revealed a dining room and a kitchen that were just as cozy.

  “So, do you have brothers or sisters?” Mia asked.

  “Yes, I have three brothers. Bones, Bullet, and Bear.”

  “And I thought our parents were weird giving us all J names just because their names are Jacob and Janice,” Mia said.

  “Those are my brother’s biker names,” Dixie said. “Their real names are Brandon, Wayne, and Robert.”

  “Is Dixie your biker name?” Jayla asked.

  Jace cocked his head, as if he wanted to know the answer, too.

  “It’s my real name. Dixie Lee Whiskey.” Dixie shook her head and said, “I know. I should be wearing cowgirl boots with a name like that. But I’m confused. Mia, what did you mean by J names? Your name starts with an M.”