Page 25 of The Bourbon Bride

“Mmm. Well, hello to you, too, handsome. That just blew all of my expectations for my first kiss out of the water.”

My heart nearly stops.I’m her first kiss?My God, I getallof her firsts. A possessive thrill runs through me, and I look at her with new eyes. She will be all mine and more and I want to make sure she is ruined for anyone who would dare to follow me.

“That’s just the beginning. It will get even better. You deserve the best and I can certainly offer that and more.”

She tucks the strands of hair that have escaped her bun behind her ears and takes a steadying breath as her eyes clear.

“Well, if that’s going to happen every time you come home to me, I don’t think I’ll mind having you leave quite as much.”

Home to me. I savor that thought, rolling it around on my tongue. I’ve never liked the idea of going home to someone before, as I like my house in order, without the messy unpredictability of another person in my space. But the thought of coming home to Paige produces a feeling so far in the other direction from my usual that I can imagine it vividly and with an unfettered desire that surprises me.

I want to share everything with her. My house. My life. My dog. Maybe even my heart. The sobering thought has me evaluating how it could have even crossed my mind just now. I’m tight with my emotions, preferring to catch flights, not feelings, but this is something else. She’s something else.

I redirect my misplaced thoughts and look around the kitchen. She has a steaming roasting pan of chicken cordon bleu cooling on the island next to a bowl of broccolini with red pepper and parmesan flakes. Farther down, there’s a platter of roasted potatoes glistening and sprinkled with parsley.

“You did all this?”

She looks around and cringes. “I had hoped to have everything cleaned up and the rest of my messy cooking habits hidden before you got home, but I wasn’t sure when that was, so I guessed wrong. I have a sink full of dishes to do, and now this.” She gestures at the paper towel, flour, and egg mess on the floor.

“It can wait,” I remind her. “Thank you for going to all this trouble. I wasn’t expecting it, but you just made a bad day better.”

Her smile is angelic, bright sunshine and flowers, and I want to devour her again, or eat her pussy out for dinner instead to really show my gratitude.

“It’s the least I could do. Oh, and you might want to add flour to your grocery list if there is someone who does your shopping.” She pauses and bites the tip of her thumb in thought. “Or I could shop for you if you want,” she says around her thumbnail.

I nod and pull her thumb away from her mouth and kiss it. I would’ve liked to suck it into my mouth and give her a preview of the things I can do with my tongue, but salmonella is a bitch.

“Wash up. Let’s eat.”

After her delicious dinner, I help clean up the kitchen, doing the dishes as she dries from a seat on the counter next to me. She’s so fucking cute perched up there I can’t help taking my time. She’s at the perfect height for me to be able to pull her ass to the edge, wrap her legs around my hips, and plunge into what I am sure is a perfect little pussy. I have to forcefully pull my thoughts away from eating her out and fucking her on the kitchen counters so I don’t accidentally move faster than she’s ready for. Instead, I think of the dry-as-hell legal contracts and terms for the acquisitions we’re working on for Olympus and I slowly regain control of my absurdly hard dick.

“You feel up to helping me give Cerberus a bath?”

“Given that I’m the responsible party for why your demon spawn looks like a ghost, of course I’ll help.”

“Demon spawn?” I chuckle imagining what that even is or why she would use it for Cerberus.

“His little cropped ears look like horns and his eyes kind of have a reddish-brown glow. With his glossy black fur, he’s totally a hellhound of some sort, but he’s just the sweetest and he’s yours, so demon spawn works.”

I shake my head at her comfort with a dog that is trained to take down a 200-lb man and subdue him until other means arrive. He’s jumped over cars in pursuit of a mark, and his surveillance skills are better than any tech system I could buy, not that I don’t have a top-of-the-line system in place.

The way Paige handles him, and how he responds to her, is unique. He acts more like an oversized golden retriever with her than the born and bred bodyguard he is. I’m still taking the Vegas odds that he would decimate anything that tried to hurt her.

I call Cerberus to me, and we all go up to my bedroom and into the expansive bathroom.

“In,” I tell him, opening the frameless glass door to the shower.

He drops his head and looks up at me with what can only be called puppy dog eyes that look entirely misplaced on a hundred-pound guardian.

“I’m not buying it, big guy. You’re a mess and need to get cleaned up for bed.”

I unbutton my shirt, remove my cufflinks, and shed the shirt on the vanity next to the sink. I step out of my shoes and pull off my socks. I’d strip down to my boxer briefs, but I assume that would be a little too much for Paige’s sensibilities, so I just empty my pockets on top of my shirt and turn to her.

She’s pulling her sweater over her head, exposing a white camisole with lace trim that stretches with the sway of her breasts that look to be held in place with a soft lace bralette that doesn’t provide much support or hide her chill. She’s in leggings and already barefoot, so when the sweater is gone, she appears like she’s about to say something, only her jaw drops open.

I look down at my bare torso and flex my abs a little for her. Not every thirty-five-year-old can rock an eight-pack, but I put in the grueling hard work to maintain this one. Her look of awe is all I need to make sure I’m up again at dawn tomorrow, getting in a workout in my home gym.

“Good Lord almighty, this is what you look like under your clothes?”

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