Page 35 of Whiskey Proposal

Setting the jar down, she lifts her glass. “Do I have to do the swirl and sniff too?”

“Just eat and enjoy.”

She does it anyway. I watch every single movement she makes, from the way a smile curves her lips when she rotates the glass enough to mix the contents to when she delicately inhales, her lips parted.

Fuck me. I want to claim those as mine.

With her spoon, she digs out a portion that includes a cherry. I’m riveted as the spoon slides between her lips. She works her jaw as she rolls the flavors over her tongue.

“What do you think?” I take a step closer.

A little moan leaves her. “That’s actually really good. That whiskey really does have a buttery taste.”

How much closer can I get before driving her off? My blood hums with need, a demand to take that glass out of her hand and lift her to the counter. I’ve had one taste of her, and it’s ignited a craving that’s getting hard to ignore when she’s in my house and sleeping on the other side of my wall. When she’s my wife.

Before I can jump her, I pick up my glass, lean against the counter, and eat my dessert with her. The clinking of our silverware against the glass fills the room.

“What else do you do with your spirits?” she asks and licks her spoon.

I suppress the groan before it slips out. Her red tongue and those pink lips are going to tease me when I close my eyes tonight. “Just cocktails. Elodie does a lot more than we’ll ever do. Have you been to Dee’s Sweets yet?”

“Nope.”

“Have you been anywhere in town?”

She smacks her lips and sets her empty glass down. “Nope.”

“Was it that bad?”

She takes a moment to think. “If it wasn’t, it felt like it was.”

That makes sense. It doesn’t take many formative experiences to stick with a person forever, and I know what it’s like to stick out. “You walk around thinking everyone knows your business.”

“I’m not throwing this in your face, but Bozeman is a lot bigger than Huckleberry Springs. Everyone here did know my business. A lot of kids were not kind, and adults preferred to ignore me. Much like my dad did.”

“This conversation is heavy. It needs more sugar.” I grab a clean spoon and open the jar of cherries. I spoon one out.

I hold my offering up, and she opens her mouth. The sight of her tongue goes straight to my dick. I can’t take my gaze off her mouth as she chews.

She swallows, her delicate throat working up and down. “You’re right. That does help.”

“You should listen to me more.” Have I gotten closer to her? “I’m not going to ignore you. And if you go to the bakery with me, I’ll leave as soon as you say the word. I’ll come up with any excuse to get out of there. All you need to do is tell me.”

Her gaze searches mine, her eyes dancing back and forth. Her persistent vulnerability is there, and it’s the kind I want to soothe with sweet words, with my hands, with my mouth.

“Lane,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?” I say gruffly.

“I really want to see what the bakery’s all about.”

My lust isn’t helping the situation. She just opened up to me, and I’m not going to incinerate that trust. I slide along the counter until there are a few more inches between us. “Then I’ll take you in the morning. I work in the afternoon, but Elodie has an amazing selection on Saturdays.”

CHAPTER TEN

Emerson

I twist my hands together. I’m riding with Lane in his pickup. It’s nicer than any vehicle I’ve ever been in. Newer, but the layer of fine dust on the dash puts me at ease, for the truck ride at least. This morning, instead of dressing in jeans, I put on a new gauzy skirt that I couldn’t resist when I was shopping with Brooks. It was on a clearance rack, begging for a home, and Hillary had my back.