I cling tighter to Durban and let him spin me around our makeshift dance floor.
Durban
I park in my garage. After the song played, I killed the lights in the pavilion and steered her right to her car. Then I followed her to my house, counting off each mile. The short drive felt ten times longer than normal. After that dance, after watching her all night and having her close, I have to get my hands on her.
She parks behind me, gets out, and strides toward me. I open the driver’s door, and as soon as she crosses the threshold, I hit the button to close us into the garage. She stops by me, her long hair over one shoulder, glowing under the light above us.
“Come here, beautiful.” I tug her toward me. Campbell makes me an impatient man.
She grins and steps out of her cowboy boots and right onto my lap. I lean the seat back as far as it’ll go and leave the door open to make room for us. There’s a bed not far away, but she’s on top of me right now. This is perfect.
She leans over me, her hair forming a curtain around us. The way she wiggles every time she moves finishes the job of making my erection rock hard. She pauses and gives me a sultry smile before grinding against me. The heat of her pussy is dulled through our clothing, but it’s still there, teasing me, driving my desire higher. I’m ready to tear our clothing off and drive into her, but she leans forward, looking beyond me into the back seat.
A ragged groan rips out of me when she plants her chest on my face to reach over me. I don’t waste a moment. I grip her sides, slide my hands up, and pull down the collar of her dress to plant a kiss between her breasts. Her chuckle ripples through her and into me. The little silver horseshoe necklace slips out of her collar.
She settles back onto my lap and brandishes a small single-serve bottle of whiskey with Chapel House on the front. The party favors.
“Shit, I forgot to haul those in.” I was too focused on getting Campbell to myself.
“You can bring them tomorrow. They’re going to be given out at the reception anyway.” She studies the label. “This is the single-malt one that you thought would go well with their vanilla bean wedding cake, right? Notes of fruit and spice?”
Touched, I nod. “You remembered.”
She looks at me like,of course. “You said it was aged in an ex-sherry barrel. You were hoping to bring out the notes of apricot and almond. Did it work?”
It has a complex flavor profile that’ll be lost on the couple, but I’m damn proud of it. I think it’s perfect for our Chapel House line. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”
Surprise lights her eyes moments before heat darkens the gray in her irises. “I’d rather taste it on you.” She drapes herself over me and slants the bottle over my mouth. “Open up.”
Fuck yes. I do as she orders. A splash of whiskey hits my tongue. I roll it around, holding her gaze, loving how heat and lust shines in her eyes just for me. Notes of vanilla, cherry, and almond fill my mouth.
Mimicking what I did the first time I got to taste her, she takes a sip and fuses her lips to mine. I open, then she does, only letting a trickle of warm whiskey into my mouth. A guttural growl leaves me.
Whiskey will never be good again without the flavor of Campbell on it.
I wrap an arm around her and hug her closer, delving into her mouth further. I stroke against her tongue again and again. The thrust of my hips against her shifts her up and down against my chest.
Gripping her hair, I break the kiss and tilt her head. Need pounds through me, punching against my zipper. “Drink.”
She dumps the rest in her mouth, maneuvering the bottle until it’s empty. Then she smashes her lips against mine. The whiskey mingles between us, our tongues clashing. I claw at her dress, but when my fingers graze her waist, I stop.
“Christ, Belle.” Arousal pumps hot through my veins, and my discovery is going to burst every vessel. “No underwear? All fucking night?”
“Yes. Just in case, but I thought it was a lost cause.” She rocks her bare pussy against my erection. Her heat seeps through my denim.
I trace her lips with my index and middle fingers.They’re plump and wet just like that sweet sex of hers rocking against me.
She flicks out her tongue to lick the tips. I groan and put them in my mouth, wetting them, then I slide my hand between the two of us. There’s nothing softer or sweeter than Campbell Hawthorne.
My other hand is still tangled in her hair. I draw her face closer to mine. “I love how wet you are for me. So fucking hot and needy.”
“For you.”
I circle her clit, and she goes liquid against me, an illicit moan leaving her.
“It’s never been this way before,” she says, all breathy.
Can it be this way forever? I claim her mouth before something like that leaves my mouth, and we have to stop to address it.
