Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume II, Books 4-6 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 2)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  He wasn’t happy she’d felt compelled to ask someone whether they could be together, but he sure as hell couldn’t fault her motivation.

  She wanted him.

  “Then let’s fully renew our acquaintance,” he said.

  Her eyes widened, and a smile broke across her pale face just as he brought his lips down on hers. They wrapped their arms around each other simultaneously, no longer restrained by anything or anyone and craving the feel of the other’s body.

  He was the needier one and kissed Harriet hard, his lips finding hers yielding, soft, and willing. She did not flinch under his assault and eagerly opened her mouth as his tongue teased and traced the contours of her lips before sucking her lower lip into his mouth, slowly releasing it. He pulled back to look into her dark eyes as his hands wandered over her body.

  His hands on her body again. She was just as perfect as he remembered. His fantasy, his prayer, his dream had returned to him.

  He moved under her blouse, touching her bare flesh, and up to her bra. He deftly slipped both hands under the cups and gently kneaded her breasts.

  “Well, hello again,” she said through a deep sigh.

  His thumbs raked her nipples. “I never wanted to say good-bye.”

  “Let’s get back to Bourbon Springs. Now,” she implored, pulling his face close to hers. Her reasoning needed no explanation as she deliberately brushed against the hardness under his pants.

  “I can’t go another hour like this!” He removed his hands from her body and pointed at his groin. “With you right there next to me in the van!”

  He again pulled her close and kissed her so long and hard he left them both breathless.

  And wanting more. Wanting all of each other. Right then and there. No more waiting.

  He turned, looked at the van, and released her. “Got an idea.”

  He strode to the back of the vehicle, opened the hatch, and peered in. Harriet was right behind him, laughing.

  “You’re not seriously thinking we could… in there…” And she pointed to the cluttered cargo area of the van, giggling.

  “No, too much of Lila’s stuff in there,” he lamented. “But…” From a darkened corner, Goose extracted a large comforter and a couple of blankets. “These will do.” He handed Harriet the blankets as he took charge of the comforter and closed the hatch.

  “You’re not serious, right? Out here? In the open?” she asked.

  His answer was to drop the comforter, grab her by the ass, and grind himself against her as he kissed her. She dropped the blankets as his mouth traveled from her lips to her jawline, where his lips traced the shape of her face before finding their way back to her mouth. Harriet’s hands moved around to his back, and she slipped her hands under the waistband of his pants and pressed her palms flat against his lower back. Damn, did he wish she could move those cold hands just a little lower to touch his cheeks, but the tightness of the waistband prevented her further travels southward. But Goose knew that small obstacle would soon be discarded along with the rest of their attire.

  “Okay, I see you’re quite serious,” she gasped after he’d released her.

  Goose gently put a hand to her face and spoke. “You just told me that we can do this, Harriet, and I’m taking you up on that offer. Now. Not in an hour, or however long the drive home is from here. Because five and a half years has been too damned fucking long, and we’re gonna put an end to our dry spell right now.”

  He kissed her quickly, bent over and picked up the comforter, and made for the trees. Harriet followed him with the blankets.

  “Why in there?” she asked.

  “Because if someone does discover the van, we’re less likely to be seen.” He dropped the comforter once they were in the thick of the trees and beyond the glade where the van was parked.

  He unfurled the large flowered comforter onto the forest floor. It was a strange juxtaposition of natural motifs: red cabbage roses were splattered all over the comforter, which was nestled in a carpet of yellow and brown leaves. Harriet placed the two blankets on the comforter in their still-wadded-up state, and Goose shook his head.

  “Back in a sec.” He ran back to the van, returning soon with three old throw pillows, which he threw onto the comforter. He also threw his wallet on the comforter, his signal to her that he was ready—and had protection.

  “This is crazy,” she said, glancing around.

  “You don’t want to do this?”

  “I never said that.”

  Leaves underfoot made a crunching and crackling noise as she drew nearer to him, and the scent of fall was all around them: the earthy smell of the dying leaves, the slightly spicy scent of nearby cedars, and the aroma of freshly mown grass, some farmer likely taking advantage of the last of the good weather to gather a little more hay.

  Goose put his hands on her hips, and there was no space between them.

  Moving her hands to his chest, she unbuttoned his shirt and spread it apart. Her lips touched his skin, and his head fell back as her tongue found his right nipple.

  Her mouth on his body.

  How had he lived without this?

  Harriet’s mouth still upon him, her hands finally arrived at his waist, and she undid his belt then his pants. Slipping a hand inside, she placed it over his erection.

  His hands had migrated to her rear, where he’d been squeezing her nice little package harder and harder as her touch became more insistent. But when she finally touched his shaft, even though it was through the thinness of his boxers, he could no longer passively stand and allow her have her way with him.

  “I can’t take it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Time to get horizontal.” He brushed her hands away and swept her into his arms.

  Harriet laughed as he placed her gently on the comforter, and he heard the satisfying crunch of leaves again as their weight pressed against the ground. Within seconds Goose had her blouse up to her neck, and his hands were fumbling around the back of her bra to undo the clasp.

  “What the—where’s the damn hook?” he grumbled against her neck. He had torn his mouth from hers in frustration at his inability to remove her bra.

  “Try the front.”

  “Oh, aren’t you the different one?”

  “Is that a complaint I hear?”

  He responded by popping open her bra at the front and peeling the sides away to reveal her chest.

  “Harriet…” he whispered as his eyes swept over her.

  His hands slowly slid over her breasts, his thumbs tweaking the nipples. Sighing, Harriet closed her eyes, inhaled, and arched into his touch. She swallowed and smiled as he savored the moment and tucked it away in his heart.

  So this was next.

  Goose’s mouth found her neck and then migrated leisurely, tortuously, to her breasts where he teased and sucked, kissed and flicked. Just as it had been those long five years ago, she was quickly and completely under his control. And also like their night at The Cooperage, he delighted in the delight he gave her. Perhaps Harriet had thought she was giving herself to him, but Goose wanted her to know the truth: he wanted to pleasure her, to give himself to her, to at last love her again.

  Goose’s hands crept to her waist, where she aided him in slipping off her pants, then panties. He allowed her to return the favor, and Harriet seemed particularly joyful to reacquaint herself with his chest. With kisses and a sweep of her tongue across his nipples, he uttered mild curses of ecstasy as she tasted his skin again and anew.

  Nude on the forest floor with patches of clear blue sky peeking through the cedars and oaks, they were on their knees, kissing and pleasuring each other. She stroked him as his fingers slipped along her wet folds, his thumb rubbing hard and slow on her clit. When his fingers swept into her, she gasped, and her hand fell from his length. Goose eased her back onto the comforter, his lips and hand still at work as she surrendered.

  After taunting her nipples further with his tongue, he moved lower until his head was between her leg
s. Goose’s fingers gently swept the delicate skin of her inner thighs as he gave her one last glance, smiling as he descended to her body.

  His mouth was upon her glistening pink flesh, and Goose delighted in the shuddering cry which escaped her. Moving his tongue slowly up and down her core and briefly flicking inside her, he proceeded to torture Harriet by gently sucking on her clit. She trembled and moaned, the sounds and sensations of her pleasure bringing back wonderful memories.

  He sensed her climbing very fast, and she grabbed his head. But instead of pulling him closer and grinding into him, her fingers gripped his hair, clearly conveying her desire he stop. Goose pushed up, grinning and knowing what she wanted.

  Him. Inside her.

  He snatched a condom from the corner of the comforter, opened it, and slipped it on. His fingers slid between Harriet’s folds; she was so perfectly wet and ready, yet he waited, extending the moment and waiting for her. When she reached for him and ran her forefinger underneath his length, he knew the long wait to feel her around him again was over.

  Goose eased into her, struggling not to plunge into her hard, and heard Harriet’s soft exhale of satisfaction as they joined. Her hips moved to meet his, and he moaned, then let loose a low growl before burying his head against her neck.

  He kissed her cheek. “I never thought I’d be with you like this again.”

  “Welcome home,” she sighed and clenched around him.

  He was home. He was with Harriet.

  Their shared need was intense, and Goose’s thrusts soon could not be easily slowed. He was climbing toward that point of no return, but he’d be damned if Harriet wasn’t going to share his ecstasy. Moving a hand between their bodies, he found her nub and massaged her. His touch made her wild, and her hips ground against him until he at last felt her quaking around him and in his arms. Her nails drove into his shoulders, her head dropped back, and the long, low cry of bliss that flowed from her was one of the most wonderful things he’d ever heard. He allowed his passion free rein in light of her pleasure and drove hard into her and immediately came, crying her name.

  After a few ragged breaths where he fought for air and consciousness, Goose rolled from Harriet’s form. With one arm underneath his head, Goose put the other around Harriet as she cuddled against his side, and he briefly enjoyed the view of the bright blue October sky above before closing his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, Harriet put her leg over his, and he smiled, happy in the certainty it would not be another five years before he again shared the physical and emotional pleasure of making love with the woman at his side.

  18

  Harriet let Goose drive back to Bourbon Springs. She was far too loved up to trust herself behind the wheel, and from what she could tell, Goose’s physical state after their intense lovemaking in the woods was the opposite of her own. He was content, calm, and even a bit cocky, an attitude he wore well and had more than earned after his performance on the forest floor and in her arms.

  “We’ve got to stop and get new tires for you,” he reminded her. “And I need to go to the grocery store.”

  Such mundane errands stood in stark contrast to the sublime afternoon experiences they had shared. She understood and appreciated his desire to go get new tires for her, but the grocery?

  “I’m cooking for you tonight,” he said, answering her unasked question. “Another thing we never did get to do.”

  “What’s on the menu?”

  “Not telling,” he said. “It’s a surprise. But I promise you’ll love it.”

  After returning to Bourbon Springs, they went to the tire store and purchased two new tires for Harriet’s vehicle. They then went to Harriet’s place, stowed the new tires in the trunk of her car, and went to the grocery together.

  Harriet couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the grocery store with a guy. She hazily recalled that she’d gone a few times with Mark, but those had been quick trips, not long stops where one would help the other with the shopping. And she was fairly sure she’d never gone with Cameron.

  And neither of those assholes had ever cooked for her, that was for damned sure.

  Now she was walking into Minnick’s in Bourbon Springs with Goose Davenport, holding his hand and feeling pretty goofy.

  And insanely happy.

  No better way to announce to their little corner of the world that they were a couple.

  They both knew exactly what they were doing and smiled at each other as they walked in together side by side, the automatic doors opening for and welcoming them as though they were walking into a whole new world just by stepping inside.

  He got a cart and pushed, and she walked slightly behind him, looking around, wondering whether she should pick up anything she needed.

  Make that what they needed. Because she was pretty sure that for the rest of the evening and into the next morning, they were going to be together.

  Harriet paid a modicum of attention as Goose moved through the aisles, looking at various products and tossing items into their cart. She was flattered he wanted to cook a meal for her and that he remembered making this meal was something he’d wanted to do five years ago.

  In that sense, he hadn’t changed a bit.

  He was that same guy from five years ago.

  That same sweet, sexy man who’d just made her scream his name in the woods a few hours ago, making a murder of crows take flight in a whirlwind of darkness and caws, drowning out their mutual cries of pleasure.

  He was that that guy.

  And he was hers.

  They were in the dairy aisle, with Goose pondering the variety of cheeses and Harriet wondering about the amount and freshness of the milk in her own fridge, when she took a step backward and bumped into a cart.

  “Oh, I am so sorry!” a familiar voice cried. It was CiCi. “Hey, there! How are ya?”

  At that moment, Goose appeared at Harriet’s side.

  “Do you prefer pecan pie or pumpkin?” he asked Harriet, and presented a pumpkin pie box in one hand and pecan in the other. “I won’t have time to make a—hey, CiCi,” he said casually.

  “Love pecan,” Harriet answered, and nodded toward the hand with that box. “Someday I’ll have to make you some of my bourbon chocolate chip cookies for dessert.”

  “I bet I’ve got a better recipe,” he countered.

  “Bet you don’t.”

  “We’ll see about that.” With a smile for Harriet and nod to CiCi, Goose retreated to the frozen foods area.

  When Harriet looked again at CiCi, the latter was openmouthed and gripping the handle of her shopping cart.

  “Really?” was the only thing CiCi could manage to ask in a strained, excited whisper. She bounced on the balls of her feet, causing her curly hair to bounce as well.

  Harriet nodded. “Really,” she confirmed with a big grin.

  CiCi gave a little squeak of joy. “Then far be it from me to delay you any further, particularly when you have the delights of pecan pie or whatever else to look forward to.” She winked at Harriet and sidled away.

  Goose filled the cart, and Harriet tried not to look since she knew he wanted to surprise her by what he was going to prepare. He even insisted on loading all the bags into the back of the van himself so she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the food.

  “What are we going do with the comforter and blankets?” Harriet asked as they turned onto the Old Garnet grounds off Ashbrooke Pike. Across the road at GarnetBrooke farm, Harriet noticed a few horses standing with their heads over the plank fencing, watching as they made the turn into the distillery.

  “Since Lila was going to get rid of them anyway, I think I’ll keep ’em.”

  “Souvenirs?” Harriet asked with a touch of snark.

  “Nope, for our future picnics,” he announced with a leer so wicked she felt her nipples harden. “And besides,” he continued, “souvenirs are something you keep when you think you aren’t going back to a certain place. You need them to remember. I don’t need a damn
thing to remember what happened today. Only you. Over and over again.”

  He’d arrived at his home, and as soon as he put the van in park, Harriet was out of her seatbelt and upon him.

  “That’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said in a strained voice and put her burning forehead against his.

  “Then stick around, Harriet Hensley. Because I’m sure I can improve on that someday.”

  After a quick make-out session in the van that resulted in the windows getting steamed up, they reluctantly peeled apart and entered the house.

  “Sure I can’t help?” she asked after he’d brought in the last of the groceries and placed them on the kitchen table.

  “Just relax, take a nap. We’ve had a rather busy day.” He emphasized the word busy.

  “If you want me to relax but you’re not taking me into your bedroom, you’d better break out the Garnet.”

  Goose stopped emptying the grocery bags, went to a cabinet above his kitchen counter, and pulled out a familiar-looking bottle and a small clear glass. She asked for a little water and ice, which he provided, and handed her the bottle.

  “Wouldn’t presume to pour for you until I know how you like it.” She had the retort on her lips that he already knew how she liked it, and that it had nothing to do with bourbon. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said in a sing-song voice as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Then come here and tell me,” she responded in an equally silly voice, swaying her hips with the bottle in one hand, glass in the other.

  “I’ll show you. Later. Right now, I have a meal to cook—a meal that I’ve been wanting to cook for the past five years.”

  Harriet put the Garnet on a small table next to the couch, removed the stopper, and added an overly generous amount of bourbon to her glass.

  It was going to be a long wait until Goose’s promised hands-on demonstration as to how she liked it, she thought as she put the drink to her lips.

  Hands on.

  His hands.

  On me!