Whiskey (Brewed Book 2)

by Molly McAdams

  A husky laugh had eased from me when my back hit the farmhouse table, fall décor scattering and falling to the hardwood floor with hollow thuds.

  Cayson’s movements were hurried and rough as he worked off my pants and underwear, letting me know he needed this as badly as I did.

  Needed me.

  I’d sat back up and crushed my mouth to his, whimpering when he caught my bottom lip between his teeth.

  Crying out when one of his hands slid between my legs and teased where I was wet and aching for him.

  “This is gonna be the death of me,” he’d whispered as he played with my piercing.

  My body had arched.

  My breath had caught.

  That warm rush raced through me as he’d rolled my clit between his fingers, my chest heaving as he lowered me to the table again.

  Seconds.

  Seconds in his hands, and I was already strung so tight. Reaching for that high.

  And then his broad shoulders were between my thighs, and I was trembling, gripping at his hair and falling into an orgasm as he set his mouth on me and sucked on that aching bud.

  Tremors rolled through me again and again as he pressed a finger inside me, slowly pushing me through. His pace quickened when he added a second and began devouring me like a man starved.

  “Cays—Cayson,” I breathed, my fingers tightening in his hair, my body writhing on the table as he urged me toward another. My core tightened with white-hot heat when he flattened his tongue against me, my toes curling against his back. “Oh God!”

  He moved harder, faster—fucking me so expertly that when he curled his fingers inside me, I shattered.

  Mouth opened on a silent cry. Body floating in an abyss I wasn’t sure I wanted to come back from.

  And Cayson . . . there.

  Wrapping me in his arms.

  Holding me.

  Capturing my mouth with intoxicating kisses.

  Stealing my heart all over again.

  “Let me have you,” I’d begged and weakly reached for his pants, but he’d shifted his hips away and pressed his forehead to mine.

  “I don’t have anything.”

  “Yeah, I’m clean too,” I’d said as I reached for him again, words choppy from my uneven breaths.

  His responding laugh had been low and beautiful and moved through me so sensually that I couldn’t help but pause. Push my head harder against his and relish in the chills that swept across me.

  “Protection,” he’d clarified. “But that too.”

  I’d slanted my head to the side enough to look at him, my fingers slipping into the band of his jeans and tugging him closer. “Is that the only reason you keep pulling away?”

  A huff of frustration and need had crawled up his throat. “Only other thing that could keep me from you is you.”

  I’d let my stare dip to where I was undoing the buttons, the corner of my mouth ticking up when his chest started pitching from his ragged breaths.

  When I met his stare again, I’d hinted, “Nightstand drawer.”

  My stunned laugh had filled the open space when he swept me from the table and began stalking through my condo, keeping me in his arms as his mouth formed to mine.

  I stared at the white and dark oak farmhouse table.

  Cheeks still wet.

  Heart aching.

  The decorations weren’t exactly how they’d been, but they were close.

  From where I was sitting, I could smell the cleaner he’d used on the surface.

  It was as though he’d tried to erase our night entirely before I could wake.

  If it weren’t for the way his scent clung to me and this place, or the ache from the way we’d come together again and again, I might’ve believed it had been a dream.

  My head snapped up and my heart took off, foolishly hoping and yearning when a knock sounded on the door.

  I jumped from the chair I’d been in and ran for the door. Hastily wiping at my cheeks as I fumbled for the lock on the doorknob.

  I wanted to remain calm.

  Unaffected.

  But my heart was so bruised and hopelessly craving for something more with this man that I was unable to be anything less than an anxious mess as I flung the door open.

  In the split second before he excitedly lifted me into his arms and pressed his mouth to mine, everything fell.

  My expression, my hope, my spirit, my heart.

  The night and early hours of this morning played again as I walked down the street with steaming cups of coffee in hand.

  The way Emberly’s hostile glares had shifted into wide curiosities and melted into heated pleas. Her snide comments that had turned teasing and bled into moans, sweeter than any sound.

  When she’d fallen asleep in my arms, I’d been hit with an overwhelming pang of sadness—wondering how I could’ve missed so much time.

  But I’d known it was necessary.

  The time, the distance, the pain . . . all of it.

  It was necessary to end up where we had.

  Holding the girl who had always made my heart race and my blood pound.

  The girl who made my head spin in the best and worst ways.

  “Oh, Cayson! Cayson Dixon!” someone called out.

  I stopped walking and slowly looked toward the street, my movements sluggish as I tried to pull myself back to the present.

  I glanced around the little neighborhood to see if the woman staring at me from her car could’ve possibly been calling for anyone else.

  If I’d misheard her.

  Wondering why she was stopped in the middle of the road, leaning across her front seat and waving frantically at me . . . but then I remembered this was Amber.

  “Hi, honey,” she called loudly.

  “Ma’am,” I said uneasily and gave another quick sweep around us, wondering if this woman could figure out where I was headed based on the street I was currently walking down.

  “You know, my Caroline has just been going on and on about you,” she practically yelled, making sure the whole neighborhood could hear.

  My brows rose and I choked on a breath when I realized who this woman was.

  Fucking Caroline.

  “She’s just so thrilled you’re back.” She smacked a hand onto the seat and clicked her tongue as if she’d just had an idea. “You know, my sweet girl and I always help with the baked goods for Amber Fest, and we have quite a bit of baking to do for this weekend.”

  Oh God, no.

  I could already see where this was headed, and I wanted to run far from it.

  She brushed at her chest, her expression pure pride. “My house, of course. My kitchen is quite the masterpiece, after all.” The way she said it was as if I should’ve known—as though she expected me to agree with her. “You should come by tonight. I know she’d appreciate the help, especially if it’s comin’ from you.”

  I didn’t miss the way her words slowed and turned suggestive. Or how she dipped her sunglasses down and shamelessly raked her eyes over me.

  I resisted the urge to react in any way, including dry heave, and offered a forced smile. “Actually, tonight isn’t good for me. Thank you for the offer.”

  “Tomorrow then!” She gave me a cheeky grin and shook a finger at me. “We won’t take no for an answer.”

  Jesus, now I knew where Caroline got it from.

  My head slanted in the beginnings of a shake as I glanced in the direction of Emberly’s condo.

  Before I could figure out a way out of this conversation and time with Caroline, she struck again. Loudly and all-too-bluntly. “We’ll whip up a little something for you to eat, of course. Wouldn’t want you to go hungry. I might even get a headache and leave y’all alone for the evening.” She lifted a hand. “Promise not to hear a thing.”

  What in the fuck?

  I stood there, unable to wrap my head around what was happening as she gave me a wicked smirk identical to her daughter’s.

  “See you then, honey,” she called ou
t before driving off.

  “I won’t be there,” I mumbled as I started toward Emberly’s again.

  Body twitching uncomfortably as if I could feel Caroline touching me and trying to claim me the way she had the night before.

  A mumbled curse slipped past my lips when my phone began vibrating in my pocket.

  Wondering if it was the girl I was trying to get back to.

  If she’d woken already.

  If she’d found my note.

  Balancing one of the cups on top of the other, I slid the phone out of my pocket, realizing just before I saw the screen that Emberly didn’t have my number.

  I glanced at Sawyer’s face for only a second before answering the call. “Yeah?”

  “The hell, man?” he snapped. “I’ve been going out of my damn mind.”

  I slowed to a stop, turning to see if maybe he would drive up on me next. Hell, with this town, anyone could look out of their windows at any given second and call Sawyer to give them an update on me.

  “Not understanding,” I said when the only cars on the street were the same parked ones I’d passed.

  “You said you’d see me last night. You weren’t home when we got there, I’ve been texting you all day—”

  “Saw,” I said on a huff. “We’re not gonna do this. I can’t have you freaking out if you don’t know where I am every minute.”

  “After the bullshit with Beau last night?” he began, a hard laugh bursting from him. “You think I wouldn’t be afraid you’d leave after that?”

  “I left you a message.”

  “Right . . . right.” It was all frustrations mixed with the slightest bit of relief. “Saying you didn’t know when you’d be back.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How the fuck is that not supposed to worry me?” he yelled.

  I let my head drop back, exhaling heavily as his worries bled through the phone. “Sawyer, I said I was with someone.”

  “No, you—oh.” Silence dragged for long moments before he continued, voice calmer though the fear still lingered. “Background noise was loud as hell, I only heard parts of what you said.”

  “Bars can be loud,” I murmured as I continued on my way.

  I’d called him sometime after Emberly and I had finished our second drinks. Not having a clue that last night would lead to where it had, but knowing I wouldn’t have made it back before Sawyer and Rae did.

  Not that I owed him a play-by-play but because I’d been trying to avoid this.

  A lot of good that had done.

  An exaggerated sigh rolled through the phone. “You couldn’t have responded any time before now?”

  “Haven’t been awake that long,” I answered and then hesitated for a second before adding, “Really don’t like texts.”

  His scoff brought a little smile to my face despite the severity of my situation. “Might be the only person I know who thinks that way.” It was all a playful grumble and then he continued louder, “Well, what’s the plan for the day? And who’s the girl who caught my jackass of a brother’s eye?”

  I started to respond, but that’s when I glanced up to cross the road to Emberly’s condo.

  My feet came to a stop as though they’d been cemented to the ground.

  My stomach dropped and felt as though it’d been encased in ice.

  Because that was Emberly with her legs wrapped around a guy’s waist and her mouth fused to his.

  But the guy walking her inside and kicking her door shut?

  He wasn’t me.

  “Cays, you there?”

  “What?” I responded on a delay as I forced my legs to move. To carry me in the opposite direction.

  “I asked who the girl was.”

  My head shook—these small, sharp movements as pain sliced through me.

  Pain I didn’t want.

  Pain I wasn’t sure I should even feel after only a night.

  “No one,” I ground out. “A mistake—I was drunk.”

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, turning my head away so Kip’s mouth lingered against my jaw for a second too long before he realized I was pulling away.

  Pushing back.

  “Why are you here?”

  His brows pulled close, the corner of his mouth lifting in that look that was somehow playful and adorable and suggestive all at once.

  It was so Kip, but this was so not the time.

  “Hello to you too,” he said sarcastically as he lowered my feet to the floor but kept his hands on my body.

  This wasn’t an I-need-a-night kind of touch. This was different.

  This lingered as if he’d spent hours tenderly holding me when touching wasn’t our thing.

  Fucking was our thing.

  Getting off and going separate ways was our thing.

  “Okay, I need you to stop,” I said quickly, smacking at his hands as I twisted away from him.

  Pretty sure there was a karate chop in there.

  From the affectionate rumble that built in his chest, he was amused by it.

  He always seemed amused by my reactions.

  I put a handful of feet between us but kept us near the door. “You didn’t answer me.”

  He gestured to the side before loosely folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the entry wall. “Went to Brewed, they said you weren’t in. Here I am.”

  “Yeah, but . . . it’s usually months between each visit,” I reminded him. For some reason, my voice sounded pleading. As though I were afraid of the reason behind him being back so soon. “It hasn’t even been a week.”

  That look—that Kip look—was back. “That’s a bad thing?”

  “It’s an alarming thing.”

  His face stripped of emotion as he watched me, studied me. After a while, his head dipped in some mixture of acknowledgment and understanding. “Thought we should talk. Our call didn’t go well, figured this would be better.”

  “What . . .” My brows pulled close. “What call? I haven’t heard from you since you left.”

  Not that that was uncommon.

  I usually heard from him every couple of weeks. I only called him if something crazy happened in Amber . . . or if I needed a night.

  A heaving breath fled from him as he rubbed at his jaw. “Figures,” he said softly before explaining, “Guess y’all were having game night?” The corners of his mouth curled up when he saw the realization wash over me. “Yeah.”

  I remembered next to nothing from that night.

  Only the wicked hangover the next morning and flashes of Cayson that I was starting to suspect weren’t dreams.

  I couldn’t imagine what I had said on a call to Kip.

  “Only one other time in all the years I’ve known you that you’ve been that drunk, Em.”

  “What did we talk about?” I asked, ignoring his unspoken question.

  “Not much.” He lifted a shoulder. “The reason I’m here. Why you were drunk. Think your phone died.”

  “Yeah, it—” Pain lanced through me when I remembered how Cayson had found and charged my phone that night.

  How he’d brought it to my shop when I’d dropped it in his truck.

  How he’d taken care of me in those simple, meaningful ways before taking me and then crushing my heart.

  I cleared my throat, my words coming out slow when I realized I once again didn’t know where my phone was. “Yeah, that sounds like me.”

  My stare darted to the area around the door where I’d dropped my bag when I stumbled inside with Cayson the night before.

  Except my bag was gone.

  I looked around, searching and coming up empty.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “My purse.”

  “It’s behind me.” He pushed from the wall, stepping aside to show where my purse hung from one of the rustic wood pieces Sawyer had installed specifically so I wouldn’t lose my purse.

  I’d still never used them before.

  Without a word, I surged forward and sna
tched the long strap off the hook, already digging through the bag.

  Not knowing what I was looking for, just sure that I would know when I found it.

  Because he’d left and it hurt more than anything ever had before, and it didn’t make sense.

  I needed him to make sense of it.

  To leave me a hint. A clue. Mocking words that would break me a little more but at least explain why he’d done this.

  There had always been simple yet disturbing words to torment me long after—years after.

  Until today.

  “Emberly—”

  “My phone isn’t here,” I said suddenly, tone dull.

  “Okay? Babe, you lose your phone daily.”

  “Yeah, but it was in here.” I knew that—I was sure of that.

  It had vibrated endlessly throughout doing inventory with Cayson, and I’d never once checked it.

  Because he’d been there. With me. And as suspicious and guarded as I’d been, I’d wanted to be present for every second of time he gave me.

  “Em,” Kip said gently, reaching for my hand and stopping me when I turned to search my place. “We’ll find your phone later. We need to talk.”

  “Talk about what?” I asked quickly, the words frantic and hushed. “What is there to talk about?”

  He didn’t respond. Just released his hold on me and gave me a look that said we both knew what as a touch of irritation bled through his exhaustion.

  “We’ve talked.” I flung a hand in his direction as I moved toward the living room, eyes darting around, searching for my phone as I went. “All you want to do lately is talk, and that isn’t us.”

  “All I—” A sound of disbelief fled from him. “Because you won’t ans—”

  “Not to mention, I’ve already answered you,” I bit out, whirling on him to find him a handful of steps behind me.

  “Answered . . . babe, you—” He dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes shutting for a few moments before he released his grip with an exhale.

  When he opened his eyes, the depth of his sadness and dread had me grasping at my already knotted stomach.

  Glancing behind him, he reached for the arm of the large chair and stepped back to sit in it. Movements slow and weary.

  I didn’t move from where I’d stopped in the middle of the living room.