“What’re you doing?” she breathed. I didn’t care that she smelled like expensive whiskey and cheap beer, I wanted to know what she tasted like.
The bottle of Johnny Walker Blue remained on the table next to us, its contents nearly gone. I wasn’t thinking clearly, driven entirely by my need for the woman before me.
She protested as I gripped the bottle, draining the last few drops, but those protests died on her lips as I placed my hand behind her neck and kissed her. Her mouth moved greedily against my own, tongue sweeping in to taste the remnants of liquor.
I was a simple man with simple beliefs. I’d never held much stock in that lovey-dovey bullshit people clung to, talking about soulmates and destinies. It was just a way for folks to feel better about their lives.
But this woman?
Something told me she could make me a believer.
josie
. . .
At twenty-nine,I thought I knew what it felt like to be kissed, but apparently, I was wrong. The man standing in front of me had just turned my world upside down in a single moment.
I wasn’t too proud to admit that there was something about Lincoln that caught me off guard. I’d been trying to figure him out the entire time we’d laughed away the hours.
Growing up on a ranch, I’d been around my fair share of hardworking hands and wanna-be cowboys to tell the difference between the two, but this man? There was something different beneath the layers of bravado and sarcasm he donned.
He was authentically rugged and timelessly handsome, the type of man who commanded your attention when he walked into a room. Given the callouses lining his palms, bartending wasn’t his only job, but it was the only one he’d claimed. I’d spent the better part of the night trying to get the truth out of him, but each time I asked, he changed the subject and turned it back to me.
He said I’d have to give him my name if I wanted his story.
I wasn’t ready for that, though. After all, I didn’t escape Texas to land myself in a relationship with the first man I saw. I came forthe mountains—for fresh air and silence. To be able to lick my wounds in the calm of Tennessee before I returned to the storm back home.
But when Lincoln stepped between my jean-clad thighs without hesitation?
I was a goner.
To hell with what I thought I wanted, the only thing that mattered washim. I eagerly drowned in the taste of him as his hands tangled in my hair, tugging my head back and tearing his mouth from mine.
I blinked, ready to ask a million questions that all centered around why he’d stopped kissing me. Instead, I was struck silent, unable to do anything but stare up at the darkest eyes I’d ever seen.
I’d stared at them all night, enjoying the sweet caramel shade that seemed to bleed into a soft brown, but this was different. His heated gaze turned the once warm tones into something much more sensual and promising. It reminded me of melted chocolate—the dark, bitter kind you’d dip strawberries into before letting the combination land on your tongue like a sinful invitation.
“See something you like, darlin’?” Lincoln asked, tightening his hold on my hair. He lowered his chin, drawing my attention to the smirk playing across his lips.
His impeccably soft, kissable lips.
Everything about this man seemed perfect—too good to be true. I should’ve taken one look at him before rolling my eyes and taking my miserable ass back to my car, but no. I decided to flirt with danger itself, and now I was going to get burned.
What a way to go, eh? Death by chocolate.
I nodded my head, unable to form words, while he stared down at me like I was his favorite meal when, in reality, I thought he was mine. One hand remained tangled in my hair while the other moved along my jaw. He ran his thumb over my mouthreverently, gaze dropping to my bottom lip as he applied pressure and swiped.
I knew my lipstick was long gone, but I couldn’t stop myself from repeating his question.
“See something you like, cowboy?”
Lincoln’s throaty laugh caught me by surprise, but he didn’t break his gaze. “Yeah, actually… I’m thinking about what it would be like to fuck this pretty mouth. How I’d want to see it dressed in some pretty color only to fucking destroy it and then proudly wear the remnants around my cock so I could see precisely where you’d been.”
Holy fuck.
I was no virgin, but I’d never been with a partner who’d unabashedly talked so filthy before, nor had I ever considered myself someone who wanted that. Sure, I’d fawned over this very scenario in books or movies when the main characters got together and, you know, indulged. I even remember thinking how exciting it must’ve been to be with someone who whispered dirty promises in my ear.
Reality, however, was never as good as fiction. Over the years, there’d been a handful of times when one of my exes would say something in the heat of the moment. He’d thought he sounded panty-melting hot when he actually sounded ridiculously cringeworthy and ruined the moment.
