“If you don’t drink, if you don’t enjoy it, you can’t get it refilled,” he said, ignoring her comment on how he’d shot back the liquor.
CiCi knew he’d made his point and that it would be a crime to waste the precious bourbon he’d just given her. She sipped as he watched.
But her eyes kept drifting to the banks of the creek. Wanting a change of scene and stiff from sitting on the ground for so long, CiCi started to get to her feet and pushed off against the ground. Seeing she was struggling, Walker managed to get upright first and pulled her to her feet. Keeping his hand in hers, CiCi finished her bourbon, placed the empty glass on the blanket behind her, and walked toward the creek.
“You don’t believe the proposal story, do you?” she asked him as they reached the edge of the bank and stood looking down at the water.
“You’re asking me whether I believe it’s true? I don’t know,” Walker admitted. “But it’s a damned fine story. People need stories. They crave them. They have to know what happened and why.”
CiCi laughed. “And that’s what drives most people crazy where I work.” She slipped her arm around his waist and put her head on his shoulder. He reeked of bourbon, but she knew he wasn’t drunk, not even tipsy. Unlike herself. She was feeling every bit of the warm buzz and giddiness the bourbon could offer, and she knew herself in that moment to be truly intoxicated by the spirits she’d consumed as well as by her company. She had fallen for Walker Cain, and she was enjoying the physical and emotional sensations of being in his presence and at special place on the Old Garnet grounds.
“I don’t understand.”
“The story doesn’t move fast enough for them, or it moves too fast. There’s no in between. People wait for their day in court, or it comes too quickly. All of it is just part of a larger story, but people involved in the legal system can’t see that. It’s very frustrating. And not just for plaintiffs and defendants. Everyone gets frustrated when they can’t see the ending or don’t like it. Judges, clerks, prosecutors, defense counsel all included.”
“We usually know the ending around here,” Walker said. “Although it takes around nine years to get there.”
“But it’s a predictable result. That must be satisfying.”
“Predictability can be overrated.” He looked around where they stood, found a large stone, and threw it in the water. “Deeper than I thought.”
CiCi slipped her hand into Walker’s pants pocket and splayed her fingers against his hip and upper thigh, wishing the thin fabric underneath would disappear.
“It’s hot out here,” she mumbled. “Let’s go somewhere cooler.”
“Excellent idea,” he agreed. He broke from her and pulled off his shirt.
CiCi stared amusedly at him. “Not that I mind the view,” she said, admiring his broad, bare chest, “but I had something else in mind rather than stripping to cool off. Like going to my house.”
Walker put his arms around her waist and slipped his hands underneath her waistband until he cupped her ass with both hands. She responded by putting her hands flat on his chest and rubbing her palms up from his stomach, across his nipples, and over his shoulders.
“We have a place to cool off,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the creek.
“There?” CiCi cried, releasing him. “But how do you know it’s clean?”
“That’s one of the sources of water we use to make the bourbon,” he said. “It’s going over that little waterfall, so it’s nice and aerated at this point along the creek. And that little spring I pointed out on the far bank adds even cleaner water to the mix. I threw that rock in to test the depth. I think the water should come up to chest height.”
“I don’t know, Walker.” She looked around nervously. “It’s not like we’re on our own private property here.”
“CiCi, there’s nobody here but us. I seriously doubt Hannah and Kyle will come hiking along here from their house, and we’re far away from the distillery.”
Walker moved his hands to the front of her capri pants and undid the button. She put her hand on his to stop him.
“No way I’m getting in there without seeing you go first,” she said. “I’m a country girl, but I’ve never gone skinny dipping in a creek or a farm pond.”
“Time we broadened your level of experience.” He started stripping off his clothes.
“You’re really getting in?”
He nodded as he dropped his trousers and threw them, belt and all, over to the picnic blanket along with his shirt. He quickly removed his socks and was left wearing nothing but his boxers with his erection peeking through the front flap.
“Care to help me?”
She stepped back from him and grinned. “I wanna watch.”
“Then that means I get to do the same when you take your clothes off,” he said, stripping away his boxers.
She raked her eyes over his nakedness. “You’re assuming I’ll do that.”
Walker grabbed her and pulled her into a very long, deep kiss, holding CiCi to him tightly. She could not resist grinding her hips against him as she felt his hardness against her stomach and wished that her clothes could dissolve, leaving nothing between them.
He pulled away first, leaving her dazed from the kiss and not the lingering bourbon buzz.
“I think I’m correct in my assumption I’ll see you part with those clothes.” He turned and scrambled down the embankment toward the water.
“Be careful!” she exhorted as he picked over the rocks.
“Nothing to be scared of.” He dipped a toe in the water. “Much warmer than I’d thought. I bet that spring over there,” Walker said, pointing to the far bank, “is thermal heated.”
She watched his backside—a really nice view—as Walker gingerly moved into the water. He held his arms out to the side to balance himself as the water crept up his body, until he was standing up to his waist, then he turned around. So much for the view—front or back—although he did look damned sexy standing there with his bare chest revealed to her.
His arms rested lightly atop the water, and he looked expectantly at her. “Your turn.”
She slowly removed her shirt, then her capris, until she was standing only in her bra and panties—another thong. Walker smiled broadly when he spotted her choice of undies.
She snapped the elastic on the thong for his amusement. “You owe me one of these after destroying my pink one the other night.”
“I’ve got another idea about how I’d like to make restitution.”
CiCi laughed and easily removed her bra, letting it fall to the ground. But instead of peeling off her thong, she stood staring at Walker, who looked mesmerized by the vision of her on the bank. A low crescent moon provided a little light, and the dimness somehow heightened the sexual tension between them. CiCi knew he was getting antsy, and she decided to increase his restlessness by giving him some payback for the kiss that had gotten her so worked up before he got into the creek.
She moved her left hand to her left breast and began to rub her nipple between her thumb and forefinger as her right hand pushed aside the fabric of her thong. Her forefinger found her clit and CiCi rubbed herself in circles as she began to moan, making sure that Walker could hear as well as see her.
His right hand plunged beneath the water, and she knew he had found his length. The water rippled around him as he pumped himself, and she slipped a finger inside herself as Walker’s hand moved faster. He came quick and hard, gasping her name as he reached his release. After his climax, Walker moved to the edge of the water to steady himself against a fallen tree branch, and CiCi stopped her self-touch to remove her thong and walk to the bank to check on him.
She smiled. “Did you like the show?”
“Get down here,” he growled.
“I suppose you’ve warmed up the water for me.”
“Come find out for yourself.”
CiCi moved to her left and to the point where Walker had entered the water. He waded out of t
he creek until it only hit at his knees, and she took his proffered hand. CiCi looked at his exposed torso and saw Walker was starting to get hard again.
“Lucky me,” she whispered to herself and slowly slipped into the warm water.
But Walker wasn’t interested in moving slowly. He pulled her into the creek, causing CiCi to fall into the water up to her neck and thrash her arms wildly to prevent her head from going under.
“Hey!” she said once she had righted herself. She splashed him, and he turned away, laughing. “That wasn’t nice!”
The water hit just above her breasts, and Walker was standing a few yards away, smiling as she brushed wet hair from her face. Gingerly, her feet explored the creek bed, discerning a mixture of rock, mud, sand, and plants as she held her arms out to steady herself against the current flowing from the nearby waterfall. Walker reached for her, but CiCi hurled herself into the creek, trying to play keep-away. Yet her lover was too strong and agile for her. She hadn’t gotten far before Walker grabbed her ankle and yanked her backward and into his waiting arms.
“I’m a good swimmer,” he told her before bringing his lips to hers.
CiCi had never been skinny dipping, although she’d taken a shower or two with her ex-husband.
Boy, had she been missing out!
Being naked in the creek with Walker was the perfectly consuming and sensual experience. The surprisingly warm water softly enveloped her, the waterfall crashed and drowned her moans of pleasure as he kissed her, and the feel of his body against hers with the slight sense of weightlessness afforded by the water made her feel as though she was in a wonderful erotic dream. Her bourbon buzz had completely worn off, and like the first night they had made love, CiCi felt intoxicated by desire rather than alcohol.
She easily wrapped her legs around his waist, and he held her in place by putting his arms underneath her rear and thighs. His fingers brushed along her folds, and CiCi wiggled her hips over his teasing hand, a begging little gesture for more, but he denied her the pleasure of a slender digit in her core. When she whimpered, he relented by taking his forefinger and giving her clit some special attention.
His movements were maddening and torturous; CiCi tried to grind against Walker’s hand, but he would pull away just as she thrust against him. He moved his mouth to her neck and was positioning himself to enter her when he pulled away, looking alarmed.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I’m not… we don’t…”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed but realizing their oversight. “Well… I’m…,” she stuttered and kept her arms around his neck.
This wasn’t when she wanted to have this conversation. Maybe her failure to prepare for this moment was a form of denial.
But she couldn’t deny or ignore her circumstances now that she’d fallen in love with Walker and was starting to regularly have sex with him (regularly referring to the frequency, not necessarily the location of their lovemaking).
“I’m on the pill,” she blurted. “And I’ll tell you why.” She feared her bluntness had irrevocably shattered the mood, but Walker’s reaction was quiet acceptance.
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” he said, stroking her cheek with his forefinger, “and you certainly don’t need to tell me your reasons if you’re uncomfortable doing so.”
“And that’s all the more reason to tell you,” she insisted. “Look at us. We’re in the middle of a creek, naked, no condom. I take the pill because of a condition I have—endometriosis. It helps with the pain and complications of it. I’ve had it for years, although it’s more under control lately than it has been, thank goodness. I can go through good stretches and bad stretches. But lately, I’ve been mostly good.”
Walker gently stroked her back. “I’ve heard of that. It’s painful, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She dropped her head. “But it’s more than just physical pain.” Walker put his hand on her face, which forced CiCi to look at him. “I don’t know for sure because I’ve never actually tried, but I probably won’t ever be able to get pregnant—so you don’t have to worry about that if we don’t use a condom tonight. I mean, I’ve been tested and don’t have—I’ve only been with a handful of men my whole life and—”
She was babbling, scared, and confused, and Walker kissed her. The fear and doubt running through her mind and out of her mouth momentarily came to a halt.
“CiCi, if you trust me enough to share something so personal, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. And I trust you.”
“Then please make love to me,” she whispered. “Now.”
He reached beneath the water and slipped inside her. Walker held her to him, his hands beneath her thighs as CiCi’s legs gripped his waist and she clenched around his length with no barrier between them.
“Never done it like this,” she giggled, “in the water.”
“Me neither,” he admitted, and she could’ve sworn she saw the man blush, despite their most intimate of conditions.
They kissed, clutching, holding, clinging, and exploring each other’s body. But when Walker tried to move inside her, the movement of the water provided no perch against which he could strain for their mutual pleasure. They stopped kissing and looked about for a solution to their erotic dilemma.
“How about there?” he said, nodding toward a large boulder lining the opposite bank from where they’d entered the creek.
“Doesn’t look very soft.”
“But smoother than the exterior wall of the distillery,” he countered, trailing his fingers up and down her spine.
His light touch had her mildly desperate, and she readily agreed to his plan as she tightened her legs around him. Walker moved through the creek, kissing and carrying her against the rush of water until they reached the rock. He eased her against the stone, which was smooth and cool along her back. He stopped as though to assess her comfort, but she assured him with a nod that all was well.
He moved maddeningly slowly even as she ground against him. They’d been in the creek for a while, playing, stroking, and kissing, and CiCi needed more. He finally increased his rhythm, and brought his lips to her neck while he moved a forefinger to her clit where he gently teased and stroked.
CiCi trembled and moaned, nearly overcome with sensation and the weight of history and meaning. They were making love in the very spot where the Old Garnet legend began. A legend with its origin in love.
Her head fell back against the rock. A sky full of stars tilted and winked above her, and then the only thing she became aware of was Walker, his rough breaths coming in closer succession. He came, calling her name, and she quickly followed. It was the sound of his voice that pushed her over the edge, her climax ripping through her as the water rippled away from them.
Panting, trembling, they held each other without looking at the other. Even though the lovemaking they’d previously enjoyed had been more physically satisfying, those joinings had been more driven by lust than love.
But this coupling in this place after her revelation to him was the most emotionally fulfilling thing CiCi had ever experienced. She began to cry.
“Please don’t tell me you’re hurt,” he whispered against her cheek, then pulled back to look at her. As he did so, she felt him slipping out of her body, and she clung to him, keeping him inside her.
“Not hurt,” she said, blinking the tears away and smiling. She put her hands on the back of his head. “I’m perfect. I’m complete. I’m home.”
Walker kissed her, and CiCi felt the tears on his face mingle with her own as the waters of Old Crow Creek flowed around their still-joined bodies.
20
The BourbonDaze festival had been a Bourbon Springs tradition for over fifty years. Held on the last weekend before the Memorial Day holiday, it was the town’s big local event and was widely known throughout bourbon country as something that should not be missed. The event had originally started out as a small showcase for Old Garnet Distillery, with a parade, bourbon tastings, and a few baking
contests. For the first half of its existence, the event was known as BourbonDays but was changed to the more edgy and hip BourbonDaze to make it more distinct and just a little tongue-in-cheek.
Main Street in Bourbon Springs was closed starting Friday morning through late Saturday night, resulting in several offices closing during that time, although businesses stayed open for the extra foot traffic. Friday was supposedly the one day of the year that Over a Barrel sold the most bourbon balls. Those in the know got there early and didn’t wait until Saturday to buy the treats since the deli was usually sold out by noon that day. There was a pervasive holiday atmosphere, and the courthouse and school system were both closed on Friday of the festival.
Having Friday off, however, didn’t mean CiCi could rest. That day found her flitting from booth to booth and vendor to vendor, making sure that all was well and (if possible) that people were happy. In addition to checking on the booths, she had to inspect the sound system on the stage in the park two blocks south of the courthouse. Besides the obvious bourbon theme, BourbonDaze was known for its Bluegrass music concert and attracted several well-known acts which played throughout the festival. Mack Blanton, a former local schoolteacher and recent winner of The Big Sing Thing—Nashville Edition, was scheduled to play that evening; the committee considered landing him as a headliner to be a major publicity coup. CiCi had successfully prevailed upon a friend of his, Pepper Montrose, his former schoolteacher colleague, to persuade him to return home for one evening and away from the bright lights of Nashville.
CiCi’s Saturday played out much the same way, with her running checks on booths, vendors, and concert preparations along with her fellow BourbonDaze Committee members, including Walker. Since there was so much ground to cover, however, they didn’t get to spend any time together and simply smiled to each other whenever their paths happened to cross.
After making her rounds through the streets of Bourbon Springs and finding only minor disasters which she managed to resolve, CiCi finally headed for the history booth to sit and maybe take the time to actually eat some lunch. She was sweating profusely in her official BourbonDaze committee member polo. The shirt was a light shade of brown to evoke the hue of bourbon, and featured dark red embroidered lettering as a nod to Old Garnet. Although the color favored CiCi’s complexion, it was still damned hot and she wished the polo were a lighter color such as white, pink, or even yellow. The brown soaked up every particle of sunlight from the bright Kentucky sky, making CiCi feel like a baked potato blistering in the sun. She’d had to wash the damned thing last night; she’d worn it all day yesterday as well, and it was expected that committee members wear their shirts throughout the entire festival.
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume II, Books 4-6 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 2) Page 18
