Page 29 of The Bourbon Bargain

Mama stands straighter in her deep merlot-colored dress with a look of superiority on her face. “I thought you might have forgotten about our Christmas morning tradition with your new life keeping you so busy. It’s like I never see you anymore.”

She’s seen me plenty and should be able to handle a few weeks away, but she’s prone to dramatics and is hyper-focused on my life. “I could never forget anything about you, Mama. We’ll see you at nine tomorrow morning.” I kiss her cheek and hug Daddy.

I tug on Hayes’s hand and head toward the front lobby, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Mama and Daddy are preoccupied before I cut through to the side hallway and pull Hayes up the service stairs to the upper floors. When we stop at the topmost landing, I pause to pull out the all-access keycard I’ve been privileged to have all of my life, thanks to my friendships with the staff and my constant need to explore. I let us into the room I’ve been wanting to show Hayes all night, giddy with the anticipation.

“Where are we, exactly?” he asks, looking around at the storage area in the attic, the sloped ceiling giving away our location before I can tell him.

“The antiques are stored up here for seasonal rotation, but it’s what’s beyond the furniture that you have to see. I used to play up here as a little girl. I made up stories and imagined I was Rapunzel stuck in my tower.” I wind a familiar path through the dust-cloth-covered furniture to the big round window that rarely gets its chance to shine. “Look at this. It’s the best view anyone can have of Savannah, maybe even the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Nothing comes close to your beauty, angel.” Hayes wraps his arms around my middle and pulls my back into his chest as he looks out the window with me. “But this is pretty close.”

I smile and lean my head into his. “You know what the best part of pretending to be a princess locked in a tower is, right?” I feel Hayes shake his head. “Knowing there’s a prince out there ready to battle witches and slay dragons in order to free her. That’s you to a T. Now you get to kiss the princess.” I turn in his arms and cup his cheeks with my hands to bring his face down to mine.

“Fuck being a prince. You know I’m the devil, and you better know I’m not going to stop at just kissing you,” he growls against my lips.

My cheeks heat at his words. “I’m not wearing panties and that just made mereallywet.”

Hayes pushes me back until I’m resting against the plush arm of one of the sofas and crouches in front of me, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He drags the hem of my long dress up my legs, taking in the sheer black stockings I’m wearing. He bites his lip when he reveals the black garters that are keeping the stockings up attached to a satin belt at my waist. He drapes my dress over my hips and his hands spread my thighs apart, a shudder working through him.

“Jesus, baby,” he groans.

“I always knew there was a man out there who was perfect for me. It didn’t have to be a prince, just my match, and I’m glad I found you.”

Hayes doesn’t respond. He just grabs my bottom and presses me against his mouth as he begins to devour me. I hold on to the couch for dear life, one of my legs lifting to hook over his shoulder as the pleasure fizzes through me in popping bubbles of anticipation and feeling.

I gasp as his fingers plunge into my center, the pressure and beckoning motion he uses combining with the feel of his mouth on me. It doesn’t take long for my gasps to become moans, and his name to spill from my lips as the orgasm washes over me.

“Oh, Hayes. Hayes. Hayes!” My head thrashes with each exhalation of his name.

He works me through the release before he’s standing and turning me. His deft, strong fingers unzip my dress, letting the green velvet pool at my feet. The pressure of his hand bends me over the arm of the couch in my garter belt, stockings, and heels before the waves have even stopped. His hands drag down my spine making me shiver as I anticipate his next move. I don’t wait long to feel his cock press against my opening, nudging in slowly as my body clamps down on him.

“You’re so fucking tight. So wet. All mine.”

I shiver at his words, spoken in a harsh whisper into the curve of my neck and sounding dark and sinfully perfect.

“And you’re all mine.” I thrust my hips back against his body and ignite the primal side of him that promises every worldly pleasure I could ever hope for, and more.

Hayes is my dark prince, the king of the underworld, and he’s claimed me body, heart, and soul.

eighteen

Hayes

“Oh,good,youhaven’tleft yet.”

I freeze at the voice, but keep my focus on steadying Paige, who giggles as she hops on one foot while struggling to put her shoe back on as we leave the service staircase into the lobby. Once she is back in both stiletto heels, I look over at the face of the speaker, already knowing full well who it is, despite thinking I would never run into him again.

“What are you doing here, Rex?” I tuck Paige against my side, not wanting her to capture his interest.

“Just seeing what kind of property would make you renounce being single after all these years,” Octavius Rex says, straightening his suit lapels. “You have a little…” he says, wiping the corner of his own mouth with his thumb, indicating I must have some of Paige’s lipstick on my mouth.

“I didn’t get married to buy a property and that can’t actually be why you’re here on Christmas Eve. What do you want?” I wipe at my mouth absently as I take him in.

He’s polished marble, perfect in every way despite the lateness of the evening, even now with the crescent-shaped scar he sports on his left temple—a souvenir of a brawl we once tackled together after a late night studying for finals at Wharton. Rex aced his finals despite the concussion he sustained. He’s too smart for this, and I’m on guard knowing it.

“You’re right. I heard about your recent marriage and decided I had to meet your bride for myself. There’s not nearly enough about her online to learn secondhand.” Rex puts his hands in his pockets, pulling a practiced, slouching stance only a fuckboy brick house at six-three can pull off and still be crack for women. He is doing it to try to disarm Paige.

I clench my jaw and feel my shoulders rise, boxing out my frame and sending back my own practiced stance that should be loud and clear. Rex gives us his signature roguish, dimpled grin, brown eyes flashing with mirth, and I want to deck the smug look right off his fucking face. He knows exactly how to get under my skin, and I need to get my shit together. I feel all of twenty-five again, instead of thirty-five, and I don’t want to be the hotheaded dick I was back then. I take a deep breath and reach for the boardroom fortitude that usually sustains me.

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