Truly, Madly, Whiskey(15)
“That’s my girl.” His arm wound around her again.
She was pretty sure it had taken up residence there. “I’m not your girl.”
She was so full of bullshit her blue eyes were probably brown. She might not be his in the sense he wished, but she was a fish on the line, and she was going nowhere without losing a piece of herself. Why was she fighting him so hard when she didn’t really want to resist him? She’d kissed men since the attack, but she’d felt nothing for them. She felt so much for Bear she was freaking herself out about it. She needed to stop worrying and take that first step.
She toyed with the idea of taking a leap of faith and giving in to her feelings.
Bear put on a country music station on the way to her apartment, and when her favorite song came on, “Setting the World on Fire” by Kenny Chesney, Bear sang it word for word, chipping away her walls a little more. Every note brought a pulse of anticipation. She’d watched that video more times than she cared to admit. In fact, Bear resembled the hottie in the video—only Bear was hotter, bigger, and currently looking at her like she was the shake to his fry. Steak fry. The really big ones. She’d felt the heat he was packing, and that baby was not a puny McDonald’s French fry.
She pulled into her apartment complex feeling happier, and more nervous, than she had in years. But it was a good type of nervous. They’d had so much fun, and he’d kept her body on edge all night. Almost all year.
He came around the car while she grabbed her purse, and he opened her door, helping her to her feet. He didn’t step into her personal space as he had in the boutique, and she was even more drawn to him because of it. She didn’t want to keep fighting the gravity between them, and there was no reason to. They were both single, they were good friends, and—
She was done overthinking. She stepped into the safety of his arms, drawn in deeper by his warm honey-colored eyes. His hands moved up her back, coming to rest on each shoulder, like the shoulder belts on roller coasters, binding them together.
“Sweetheart, you are incredibly beautiful.”
Ohgod. I can’t stop looking at your lips.
“You’re funny and smart…”
His words floated into her ears, but she was mesmerized by his mouth, moving just out of reach. She’d watched it for so many months, dreamed about it night after night. His tongue swept across his lower lip, leaving it slick and enticing. She wanted to taste that tongue, to feel it move over hers. She hadn’t even kissed a man in so long, she wasn’t sure she remembered how. But right here, beneath the starless sky, within the arms of the man who had relentlessly pursued her, she didn’t care if she did it wrong. She just needed to do it. She needed to kiss him.
“Please tell me, sugar. When are you going to let me kiss—”
She fisted her hands in his shirt and went up on her toes, pulling him down, and smothered his words with the hard press of her lips. The pit of her stomach whirred a flurry of heat and excitement. His hands moved over her back, pressing their bodies even closer together. His kiss was surprisingly gentle, exploratory, delicious. They kissed for a long time, there beside her car, in the middle of the parking lot. When they finally came up for air, Bear kept her close, which was a good thing, because she was pretty sure her legs had turned to noodles, and if he let her go, she’d slither to the pavement. He brushed his whiskers along her jaw, sending shivers down her spine.
“Jesus,” was all he said.
Her hands were shaking as she reached up and touched his face. She’d been dreaming about it for so long, she thought she knew what his skin felt like, but she’d been way off. Despite how rugged and chiseled his features were, his cheeks were soft and smooth above his whiskers.
He covered her hand with his, keeping it there, and touched her lips again in a whisper of a kiss. And another. And another. Until he reclaimed her mouth, more demanding this time, delving deeper, taking her rougher, and somehow, still tenderly. He kissed like the waves rolled in, smooth and even, then powerful and pervasive, only to ease up again. Just when she met his rhythm, he intensified his efforts. Every wave was stronger than the one before, and when she was so high on him she thought she might pass out, he breathed air into her lungs, taking her to another level of intimacy she never imagined possible. All in a single incredible kiss.
My Lord.
If he could turn her inside out with his kisses, what would he do when he touched her, when he made love to her?
How would she survive Bear Whiskey?
Panic began as a swirl in the pit of her stomach, and she fought against it, refusing to let it take hold. It had been years, not days, not months. Years since that awful attack. She’d done all the right things. She’d reinvented herself, gone to therapy every f*cking week. She’d kept her secret from ruining her life—or at least she thought she had. But as Bear’s hands moved lower, cupping her ass, and he ground his hips against her, making her dizzier, drunk on him, she felt herself slipping.
Losing her footing.
I’m not afraid.
I want to be with you.
Anxiety clawed up her limbs, making her rigid despite her desires. Her breaths came in fast, hard spurts.
“Crystal?”
Bear’s voice sounded far away.
I’m okay. I’m okay. I want you so f*cking badly.
“Crystal, look at me. What’s wrong?”