“Yes,” I answered instantly. “What a silly question.”
She turned in my arms, and I loosened my grip enough for her to pull back and stare into my eyes. “We haven’t exactly discussed it.”
“I thought it was obvious,” I said. “We’ve spent the last two days in bed together, Whiskey.”
“So,” she said, a bit petulantly. “Sex is one thing. A relationship is a whole other.”
“I want that with you,” I told her, raising a hand to rest it on the curve of her cheek. “I wanteverythingwith you.”
“Don’t you think it’s too soon to be discussing stuff like that?”
“Absolutely not,” I assured her. “I’m thirty-seven-years-old. Iknow what I want, and I never thought I’d find it. The day you shoved your way into my office and my business was the best of my life.”
Delia hummed happily as I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll have a serious conversation about this when we’re not naked and sex-addled,” she said. “But know I want everything with you too.”
Monday morning came waytoo quickly, and our bubble was about to pop.
We’d briefly come up for air the night before to assure the people who cared about us that we were alive and well.
Even knowing we had to leave the house that day didn’t stop us from extending our sexual hiatus a little longer.
“Whiskey,” Owen whispered that morning, and my eyes cracked open. The sky beyond his windows was barely lightening, and a quick glance at his alarm clock told me it was barely past seven.
“Nooooo,” I moaned, not wanting to move from the cocoon of blankets and his warmth.
“I know, baby,” he said, dropping a kiss to my hair. “But we’ve got work to do.”
Work. I scoffed. “Fuck work.”
Owen chuckled behind me, his hand moving, his fingers skating across my skin, dipping lower beneath thecovers. “We have to finish the distillery. Get those doors open.”
My eyes flew fully open, excitement blooming in my chest despite the ungodly hour and desire to stay here with him forever.
“The last of the furniture is being delivered today,” I said, voice still sleepy.
“And the movers are packing everything up from the barn and hauling it over,” he reminded me. “We’re so close.”
“But I don’t want to leave you,” I whined.
Owen made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “You think I’m letting you out of my sight ever again?”
“Just sew my skin directly to yours,” I said, burrowing deeper into him.
“Creepy.”
I giggled as I turned toward him, and he instantly captured my mouth with his. “Only way to ensure we’re stuck together forever.”
Owen pulled away a breath, his expression serious. “We already are.”
“Good,” I whispered.
“Now come on,” he said, tossing the comforter back. “We need showers. You’re a dirty girl.”
“Oh,I’mdirty,” I said, sitting up and swinging a pillow at him. “You’ve had your face buried in my pussy all weekend, QB. I’d say you’re the dirty one.”
He reached down and slipped his fingers through my slit. “And what a beautiful pussy it is. Now let me take care of it.”
We rose and raced to the bathroom, the early morning chill raising goosebumps on my entire body. Owen reached into the glass enclosed shower and spun the knobs, steaming hot waterpouring from the various heads a second later.
