We moved into her office space, Delia’s steps confident and unhurried, completely oblivious to the turmoil roiling in my gut. When she turned to me again, the cool air from her brief trip beyond the cozy warmth of the room had tightened her nipples into peaks against her shirt.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I nearly went to my knees before her, begging her to let me taste her.
Fucking hell, I had to get my shit together.
Five bottles were lined up on a side table, one for each of our spirits: Outlaw Vodka, Bootlegger Rum, Highwayman Whiskey,Bandit Gin, and Hustler Bourbon.
The first time I’d shared the names with her, Delia had been gleeful over each of them, and I’d preened under her praise. Having a last name like mine made it easy to lean into those Wild West vibes, when criminals run rampant across the dusty trails.
Delia poured us each a finger of the whiskey into two highball glasses, handing me one before lifting hers. Her fingers brushed against mine, sending an electric current up my arm. While I was giving her time to come to terms with what she wanted, whether she wanted to pursue something further with me or not, it didn’t stop me from wanting her in a bone deep way.
And as her skin came into contact with mine, her breath hitched in a way that told me she wanted me too, that she wasn’t as unaffected by the connection between us as she pretended.
So what the fuck were we waiting for?
I cleared my throat and lifted my glass between us. When Delia mirrored me, I said, “To Unlawful.”
Her echo of my words was barely more than a murmur, and then she was lifting the liquor to her lips, opening her mouth only slightly to let the liquid trickle in. I couldn’t tear my attention away as she savored the sip, letting it linger before swallowing it down. The muscles in her slender neck contracted, and it suddenly became the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen.
“Damn, that’s smooth,” she said, her voice husky, eyes sparking when they met mine.
Like your skin, I thought, resisting the urge to stroke a finger down her cheek and prove it to myself.
Being around her was difficult, especially alone like this, with nothing but these four walls to bear witness if I were to grip thedelicate point of her chin in my hand and tip her head back. If I ran my free hand down a thigh, hitching it high around my waist.
If I were to seal my lips over that plush mouth.
Fuck, I needed to get it together.
“Owen?” Delia said, and I shook my head, returning to the present. While I’d been lost in thoughts of her, she’d moved across the room to one of the oversized rolled arm chairs. And like a dumbass, I was still standing in the middle of the room, my eyes probably glazed over from my thousand-yard stare.
“Can I ask you something?” I blurted, moving to sit in the chair beside hers.
Her brows drew together, but a smirk played on her lips as she said, “Technically, you just did.”
“Okay, smart ass. Let me rephrase.” I batted my eyelashes and gave her a beatific smile. “Delia, I have a question for you.”
Tucking her feet up under her, she giggled and said, “Proceed.”
“Why did you dare Amara to make out with me at the lake that night?”
Delia blinked, clearly surprised, like she hadn’t been expecting that question. Truthfully, I hadn’t planned on asking it. But the way I felt about her was changing rapidly, and this was one thing that had continued to nag me. I couldn’t quell my curiosity any longer.
With a sigh, she said, “I wanted Cal and Amara to admit there was something there. That things were happening between them. I’m not saying I’m proud of the way I acted, but…I don’t like watching people needlessly suffer when the issue could be solved with a simple conversation or onemoment of bravery.”
Then where’syourmoment of bravery?I wanted to ask but wisely bit my tongue.
I pushed that thought away and said, “And Amara kissing Cal in front of us was that moment for her?”
Delia nodded. “Mar is a rule follower. She always has been, and she’s always done exactly what was asked of her when it comes to the family business. Her relationship with Cal is the first time I’ve ever seen her rebel and do something for herself. Call it a woman’s intuition or maybe just the fact that I know my sister that well, but…I had a good feeling about them. That they were endgame. As it turned out, I was right.” I opened my mouth to say something, though I wasn’t entirely sure what, but she continued. “I am sorry, though. For dragging you into it. That was shitty of me.”
“I accept your apology,” I said, sealing my forgiveness with a clink of my glass against hers.
She was silent for a beat before she leapt from her chair, some invisible tether snapping. “I just have all this…energy!” she said, pacing the length of floor from the chair to her desk and back. “And it often manifests in chaos.” Stilling, she turned to me, hands on hips and added, “Like, you know how everyone talks about having an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other?”
I nodded.
“I don’t know if I have the angel,” she admitted, gaze dropping to the floor. “But I definitely have a devil, which I affectionately refer to as my inner chaos demon. And if I don’t pull the proverbial fire alarm from time to time to take the edge off, bad things happen.”
