Panic gripped my heart in an iron vice as he turned. My chest heaving painfully and unevenly as I struggled to take in a substantial breath.
His words echoing and growing louder, building hope that clashed with fortified doubt.
“Tell me.” The plea came out soft. Weak. But it stopped Cayson.
After a moment, he turned only halfway to look at me, his jaw feathering and brows drawn tight in a look I had seen so rarely in the past. A look that had always broken my heart.
Vulnerabilities hidden—this was Cayson protecting himself.
“Tell me how you see me.”
A huff escaped him, his arms lifting to gesture to the space we were in. “Emberly—”
“Because I know you’ve seen me, Cayson,” I continued over him. “Before, I was your brother’s best friend and your punching bag. Tonight, I might’ve been nothing more than an escape from girls trying to tie you down and a distraction from your family.”
He took a few steps closer, mouth open as though he was going to argue, but I wasn’t finished.
The whiskey and this night had shattered my filter. Watching him walk away had loosened words I’d kept locked deep for so long.
Now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop.
“I’m well aware that you’ve seen me,” I repeated, voice trembling and cracking, “but it’s never been the way I saw you. So, tell me how—” The words broke on a soft gasp when Cayson abruptly crossed the last of the space between us and crushed his mouth to mine.
And then his hands were in my hair and his lips were coaxing mine open and the world was falling away.
Only Cayson.
Only me.
Only this moment as I clung to his arms and poured a decade’s worth of my soul into a kiss.
“I’m well aware that you’ve seen me, but it’s never been the way I saw you.”
Emberly’s words replayed again and again as I curled my hand around her neck, pressing my thumb against her jaw to tilt her head back. Taking more and more from her and that kiss.
Fevered and passionate.
Exploring and devouring with tortured strokes of her tongue and moans that threatened to drop me to my knees when I took her bottom lip between my teeth.
As though we’d been unleashed.
Then she was in my arms, and her legs were wrapping around me as I turned to set her on the edge of the desk, her body arching and hands pulling, trying to get closer.
“Cayson,” she whispered against my lips as her hands slipped beneath my shirt.
The muscles in my stomach tensed and twitched beneath her fingers, a low groan climbing up my throat when they dropped to the band of my jeans.
The sound of things falling to the floor . . .
Of the contents of her desk shifting and toppling over . . .
They were nothing—background to the surprised and erotic giggle that escaped her as I laid her out on the large, wooden desk.
A giggle that turned into a whispered gasp when I set my mouth to her bared stomach that she’d been torturing me with all night.
A gasp that ended on a moan when I lifted her old concert tee over her lace-covered breasts and kissed my way up to them.
Those sounds . . .
I knew those sounds would forever be imprinted on my mind.
Her hands moved, fingers skating along my head and pulling me closer as she arched into me.
As she told me what she wanted.
I let my hands trail over her body, tracing and worshiping the dip in her waist and subtle flare of her hips while she pulled at my shirt in a silent plea.
Once it was off and falling to the floor, her hands were on me. Gripping my shoulders and racing down my back as I made a fevered trail of kisses from her jaw to her chest.
When I pulled her hardened nipple into my mouth, she moved beneath me, hushed pleas mixed with my name as her fingers fell to the top of my pants again.
Impatient and demanding.
A breath of a cry rang out and filled my head when I delivered a swift bite to the lace-covered bud, her chest trembling with jagged breaths as I sucked it back into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it.
When I started moving to her other breast, she shakily pulled me up and crushed her mouth to mine.
“Please,” she breathed against the kiss. “Cayson, please.”
I curled my fingers around hers when she reached for the button on my jeans again and slowly lifted her hands to the sides of her head.
With another hard kiss, I leaned back enough to look into her confused and worried stare. “First time I fuck you isn’t gonna be on your desk.”
She trembled.
A soft whimper falling from those lips before she said, “Then take me somewhere.”
But the words were all hesitation and doubt and made me shift away even more to take her in.
The panic dancing across her face.
Her lip being tortured by her teeth.
“Emberly . . .”
“If you put me down now,” she said swiftly, words nearly inaudible, “how do I know this won’t disappear?”
My heart stuttered.
Tripped up.
This damn girl.
A weighted breath eased out of me as I leaned back, sitting her up with me as I went. Curling a hand around her cheek and searching her hazel eyes.
Open, vulnerable, so damn scared.
“Close your eyes, Emberly.”
Her brow furrowed, but after a moment, she did.
A soft gasp left her when I rested my forehead to hers, followed by the sweetest sigh.
For a while, I didn’t say anything. Just stood there with her wrapped tight around me, feeling the frantic pounding of her heart against my chest.
After brushing a soft kiss across her lips, I unwound myself from her and gently eased her off the desk before taking a step away.
Close enough that I could easily reach out and touch her, far enough for her to move.
“Open.”
When her eyes met mine, something lingered there as though she were remembering that night at Sawyer’s.
Her chest pitched with a muted laugh, the corner of her lips lifting with affection.
And then my mouth was on hers again.
Soft.
Coaxing.
Saying everything without uttering a word.
I wanted her.
I was sorry.
I refused to hurt her again.
Emberly’s eyes were bright when I released her, and her bottom lip was between her teeth again. But this time, she was attempting to hide a smile that was still lighting up her entire face as her fingers danced along the ridges of my stomach.
“Okay?”
“Mmhm,” she hummed contentedly, turning a little before twisting back to press her mouth to mine.
She opened to me immediately.
Her tongue dancing and teasing and her lips moving against mine as though we’d been doing this our entire lives.
“Now you can take me somewhere,” she whispered as she pulled away, righting her shirt to its knotted-up position just below her breasts as I grabbed my shirt from the floor.
Just as it passed over my head, her hissed curse had my movements stalling.
“The order.”
I glanced from the computer to the apprehension swiftly covering her face.
And for a moment, I wondered if I’d been right earlier—if I had done too much damage in the past for her to ever forgive me. Trust me.
“I’m here,” I said, trying to assure her.
“Two seconds?”
“I’m here,” I repeated, the words low as I tried to convey exactly what they meant.
But she just stood there, studying me like it might be her last opportunity to, before giving a sharp nod and turning to search for the inventory binder that had been knocked to the floor.
Once she was in her chair, I tried to straighten up the rest of the mess we’d made. Putting things in piles
and righting the knocked-over binders even though I didn’t have a damn clue where anything went.
Grabbing the tumblers, I paused from stepping away when I noticed her curious eyes on mine.
Probing.
Pleading.
I wanted to tell her I was there in more ways than physical.
Anything she wanted to know, I would tell her. Gladly.
But this girl? Didn’t matter that she knew my past better than anyone. She wasn’t ready for my answers.
The doubt that kept skipping across her face said as much.
“Done?”
Emberly cleared her throat, her head shaking faintly as she focused on the computer.
“Two seconds?” The words were a tease and earned a brief smile that she tried to hide by pulling that lip into her mouth again.
“I’m oddly distracted.”
I slipped up beside her chair and leaned in to press my mouth to the spot just behind her ear. Reveling in the way she trembled when I asked, “That right?”
Her answering hum vibrated against my lips.
“How so?” I grazed my teeth over that same spot and had to grab the chair when she moaned in response.
“You. This dream I seem to be in. I don’t want to miss any of it.”
Setting the tumblers back on the desk, I brought my hand to her exposed skin, letting my fingers trail across her stomach before moving up.
My mouth went to her ear as I kneaded and teased her breast. Watching her sink into the chair and her mesmerizing lips part as her breathing deepened.
“Still think this is a dream?”
“Yes,” she said on a whisper.
Best dream of my life.
Giving her time to stop me . . . time to change her mind about all of this . . . I slowly moved my hand down her body, leaving feather-soft trails that made her chest jerk with uneven breaths of anticipation.
When my hand slipped under the waistband of her pants, she trembled.
When I teased the seam of her underwear, her eyelids fluttered shut and her hand lifted, curling around the back of my neck.
With that first pass along her slick folds, a whimper escaped her.
Then I was sinking a finger inside her wet heat, and she was pulling me closer, crushing her mouth to mine and moaning into the kiss. And I was wondering how I was supposed to ever stop now that I’d had even a hint of this girl.
Her mouth fell open with a soft cry and her nails dug into my skin when I added a second finger and curled them, hitting that spot that had her squeezing me so damn tight as she rode my hand.
“Oh God,” she whimpered, her head dropping back as her body locked tight. “God, Cayson, please.”
A tremor moved through her when I pressed my thumb to her clit. Her moans mixing with my stunned “shit,” just as her orgasm ripped through her.
Her body trembling and trembling as I rested my forehead against hers. Awe and wonder swirling through me and clashing with my need for her.
This girl.
This damn girl.
My movements slowed when her body slumped in the chair, her hazel eyes searching out mine in question and worry.
Always with the worry.
Her gasp tore through the room when I removed my fingers and trailed them through her folds, swirling them around her clit and that surprise before dipping them back inside her.
I brushed my mouth across hers, the amusement in my tone nearly covered by the rough gravel from refraining myself. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
But through her whimpers and heaving breaths, shame bled through, her head moving in rough jerks as though she didn’t know what to say.
“Emberly,” I said softly, passing my thumb over the piercing again, captivated by the way she reacted to even the barest touch. “Hot as hell.”
She nodded for only a beat before shaking her head roughly, fiercely. Before I could repeat myself or ask what was wrong, she pled, “Take me to my place.”
A confused huff left me. “Emberly—”
“Cayson, please.”
My head moved in something like a nod as I removed my hand and shifted away so she could get up.
“God damnit,” she bit out before she could stand, her hand smacking on the desk. “The order.”
I looked at the computer where the order waited, incomplete, and let out a little laugh. “Two seconds?”
A sigh of frustration burst from her, but she sent me a small, thankful smile. “I don’t know, I’m more distracted than ever now.”
I grabbed the tumblers and said, “I’m gonna take care of these. You’re gonna finish the order. Then I’m gonna take you to bed and keep you awake for the rest of the night.”
Her bottom lip went between her teeth as if on instinct.
I reached forward to pull it out, smoothing it over with my thumb as I searched her heated stare.
“And somehow, I’m gonna make you realize this isn’t a dream.”
Before the doubt could fully form in her eyes, I bent to pass my mouth across hers while tapping the play button on her keyboard. My lips curled into a smile in response to hers when the Dixie Chicks started singing again.
“Two seconds?” I asked, the playful words coming out a little rough from my need for her.
“Two,” she agreed, her stare lingering when I backed away and turned to leave the room.
As soon as I was behind the bar and found a little sink to set the glasses in, I pressed my hands to the counter and let my head fall.
Surrounded in her scent.
Her whimpers and hushed pleas in my head and mixing with her worries. Her lingering doubt. The wall she still remained securely behind.
Want and fear.
Back and forth.
My fault . . . all mine.
I eyed the empty tumblers and wondered—as my own doubt crept in—what the morning would hold. If the sneers and hostile glares would return the way they had the other morning . . .
But when Emberly entered the bar looking all kinds of eager and nervous and damn near bringing me to my knees as her eyes devoured me from a dozen feet away, I told myself they wouldn’t.
Because she wasn’t about to forget this.
My eyelids fluttered open only to squeeze shut against the harsh light pouring into the room.
I inhaled deeply as I rolled over in my bed, stretching as I did, and paused.
Bourbon and sandalwood.
It was on my skin and clinging to my sheets, teasing my mind and sending a welcome rush of chills across my skin.
The ache in my body screaming beautiful and unbelievable memories.
“You gonna come in?” I’d asked once I got my front door open, warily watching where he stood feet away, furrowed stare on me.
“If I come in, need you to understand that I want you and I’m staying,” he’d said, the words all a rough growl and dripping with desire.
Knees weak, I’d taken a stumbling step into my condo and let my bag fall to the floor.
For how long? I’d wanted to ask as my truths screamed silently into the still night.
I’ve always wanted you.
I’ve always wanted you.
I’ve always wanted you.
Instead, I’d nodded. Lifting my shirt over my breasts and saying, “Show me.”
Show me how you want me.
Show me that you’re staying.
Show me I can trust you.
I’d barely gotten my shirt over my head before he was storming inside. The door slamming behind him right about the second he lifted me into his arms and pushed me against the wall.
Mouth on mine, moving fiercely but thoroughly.
Tongue torturing mine in the sweetest way.
Hands kneading and teasing my breasts until he replaced them with his lips and teeth . . . until I was arching from the wall and begging him for more.
Bringing his face back to mine and then tearing at his shirt for the second time tonight.
I rolled the other
way, hand stretching across the bed and hitting empty sheets.
A decade’s worth of aches pierced at my heart as I pushed to my elbow, my stomach twisting with denial as I looked wildly around my room.
But there wasn’t a trace of Cayson Dixon.
No pants he’d tripped out of as we’d toppled into the room.
No boxer briefs I’d slowly removed with my heart in my throat.
No commanding presence that had been etched onto my soul all those years ago.
“I’m here,” he’d whispered in the dark as he wrapped himself around me.
Our bodies spent and slick with sweat.
Our chests heaving.
My hands still moving across him, learning and memorizing him in the dawn’s early glow.
“I’m here.”
A promise.
An assurance I could close my eyes.
That he wouldn’t disappear.
I tripped in my rush to get out of the tangled sheets, staggering before righting myself with a hand to the wall, and came to a dead stop.
That twisting in my stomach?
I couldn’t feel it over the ice-cold anguish that immediately coated my body. I couldn’t feel anything over the wrenching of my heart.
On my dresser sat a neatly-folded pile of the clothes I’d been wearing the night before.
The clothes we’d left a trail of in my entryway and dining room.
Seeing them reminded me I wasn’t wearing anything.
Something about his absence and the pile of clothes that wasn’t supposed to be there had me feeling incredibly insecure about that fact.
It wasn’t that I was insecure in my body, it was this.
It was him.
It was being pulled back in time. The fear that I was, once again, about to be the focus of his next prank. Of his next cruel joke.
I shakily opened one of my drawers and shrugged into a large shirt before slipping into underwear from another. The entire time, my eyes never stopped moving.
Darting around.
Searching.
Screaming for him to walk into my room with that smirk and to wave away this debilitating fear.
I only made it into the living room before heavy tears began rolling down my cheeks.
All the décor we’d knocked to the floor was put back in its place on the table.
The deadbolt on my front door was left undone.
Whiskey (Brewed Book 2) Page 16
