Lauren Dane - Whiskey Sharp - Jagged

“And after I’d come through it all, after everything insubstantial had burned away, I started a different life. And I wasn’t nice anymore.”

He ate as he got himself back together. She unraveled him. Not something he was entirely comfortable with.

“Okay. I can see that.” Though he thought she was pretty damned nice, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her what she felt and who she was. “What are you doing this weekend? I’ve got both days off and I was thinking of a hike up at Tiger Mountain. It’ll be cold, but clear. Have you hiked it?”

“No, but it’s on my list.”

“It’s not super strenuous, but a good workout. I promise to take it easy on you.”

She snorted. “How do you know you won’t need it the other way around?”

“Who says I want you to take it easy? Maybe I like it hard.”

He hadn’t meant to say it. Or maybe he did but he hadn’t meant it to sound so very suggestive.

But she wasn’t offended. Not at all, unless he was misreading the way her eyelids went half-mast.

“Perhaps I like it hard too.”

Holy shit. What the hell was he supposed to do with that image? Except think about how to make it reality.

“I think we need hot chocolate. And a fire,” he said around a suddenly thick tongue. “I even have the supplies to make whipped cream for it. I’ll walk you home afterward.”

* * *

SHE SHOULD HAVE said no but she didn’t.

Instead, he tucked her up on his couch and made them both hot chocolate with fresh whipped cream while she basked in the heat of the fire and watched him.

His house was the same sort of tri-level ranch house their neighborhood was dotted with, but with a modern touch. Dark wood floors with burnished steel. The overstuffed couch she was on was plush and deep green with nail head accents.

It was a decidedly chic, adult space. Classic. Sophisticated. He was way more than she’d expected. Her mistake really, she should have paid better attention. But naturally she got caught up in that face of his.

She was only human, after all.

“So tell me about your favorite tattoo lately,” he said as he joined her.

“That I’ve given?”

He nodded.

“I’m still giving it. A half sleeve. It’s a cardinal. Full color.” She indicated the way the bird lay around the curve and muscle of the upper arm. “Wings open. There’s a lot of fine line work with the feathers.”

“What about it makes you so proud of it?”

She thought awhile about the exact words to use. “It takes a steady hand. It’s scary at first when you’re inking someone. This is a big piece. A mistake is forever. I was nervous but since I just jumped and did it, it’s turning out really awesome.”

“You’re a risk taker.”

“Not so much anymore.”

“Making art is taking risk. You create something and throw it out there to rise or fall. That takes guts. And tattooing is forever. Well, there’s cover-ups and removal but you know what I mean.”

“I do.” She hadn’t thought of it like that but he was sort of right. “You’ve got the heart of a poet.”

“Evie says the same. I can’t see it.”

Without thinking about it, she reached out and pulled his hair free to tumble down. “You even have the hair and the face of a fallen angel.” It had been intended to tease but damn it if it wasn’t true.

“I tell myself I’m going to keep it slow and easy and then you go and say things like that. So delicious, right here under my nose for three years. You’d think after three years I’d have more chill, but I don’t.”

She drew a shaky breath. “I really shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be telling you all this stuff and thinking about how you kiss. There’s something about you, Vic. I say things I don’t intend to. I want things I shouldn’t. It scares the hell out of me.”

It was only the second date, but it was way deeper than that. They’d been developing a relationship for years and it seemed like now that they’d finally stepped into this new romantic thing between them, the intimacy had sharpened.

After years of living a very pared-down life, focused on herself and surviving, it was tender, nearly raw to let someone as close to her as she found herself doing with Vic.

“I’m not that person. I make good choices. I’m responsible. I pay my bills on time and I turn the water off when I’m brushing my teeth,” she told him.

He put his mug down, taking hers as well before turning back to her and enfolding her hands with his own.

“Are you suggesting I’m a bad choice?” he asked, teasing.

“Do these pants make my butt look big?”

He leaned closer, touching his lips to her cheek quickly. “You have an amazing butt and anything you wear makes it look great.”

“You’re not a bad choice.” Especially when he said stuff like that. “I’m just being weird. I did warn you. Let’s make out.”

His smirk told her he knew she was changing the subject and also that he was down with a lot of kissing.

He pulled her closer and then into his arms, crosswise over his lap. She squirmed just enough to get a lay of the land, so to speak.

Well now. There was some big country going on.

With a growl, he cupped her jaw, turning her to angle her mouth just how he wanted it. Their first kisses the day before had been sweet and sexy. But this... this was an utter devastation.

He nipped and nibbled, licked and sucked every part of her mouth until she was a warm puddle of purring woman, arms around his neck to keep from drowning in him.

He branded himself all over her. The heat of his hands—one splayed on her thigh, the other at her hip—seared. His taste burned itself into her memory so deep she knew she’d never forget.

A sexual fire within her burst into life, sending sparks of need through her as she urged him closer.

Yes. Fuck yes. More. More. More. She shifted her hold, fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him to her.

He hummed, as if she were delicious. “Gonna take a while to get down to the center of you,” he said against her lips.

She might have come just hearing those words.

Against her ass, his cock was hard and ready and big. All the protestations that she wasn’t a size queen flew out the window in the face of the very large penis that came along with this very hot Russian.

“I’m not going anywhere, so feel free to be thorough.”

He laughed, setting her back on the couch beside him. “I plan to spend a great deal of time on you, Rachel Dolan, with your wary eyes and that mouth that makes me weep.”

“I don’t want to make you weep,” she said, her lips quirking up into a smile. “Well, maybe I’d like to make you beg.”

He leaned in and stole a kiss that left her mouth swollen and tingly. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I’m going to walk you home now.”

“Wait. What?” She looked at the clock, noticing it was already after eleven thirty. He had to get up early and she’d gotten all caught up in her hormones. “Later than I thought.”

He pushed his hair away from his face. “It’s not that. The occasional night where I don’t get at least six hours is fine. You’re worth it and I can always nap after work. I just want to take some time. I want you to crave me the way I crave you. And when we finally end up in bed—and we both know we will—it’s going to be mind-blowing. I like this stage. Full of anticipation. Discovery. I know your favorite color, but I didn’t know you’d like heart shaped pastry.”

“Who doesn’t like pastry in any shape? What are they? Monsters?”

“I like to sip and savor.” He stood and held a hand out. “You’re complex and layered, I’m going to enjoy you.”