Page 36 of Whiskey's Redemption

Carli

Jamieson’s room is a two-bedroom suite overlooking the Pacific. Stunning. If I were looking for a hotel room at the beach, this would be my Malibu retreat. Shutters on every window, and a Tommy Bahama / Pottery Barn interior that gives the space a feel of airy opulence. Every nuance has been taken into consideration when designing the space, and I half expect a butler or maid. Envisioning them popping around the corner, sweeping up sand as we move through, I wander through the space. The rooms are well stated. The bathroom houses a beautiful claw foot tub, oversized double sinks, and a monster walk-in shower.

“This is roughing it, I bet.”

“No. This is extravagant, but I needed someplace I could move away from the…” As his voice trails off, I know what he means. Family can be crushing and constraining when you’ve been away from them and their constant needs for so long. It’s a lot to take in at once. “It’s a bit much.” He shrugs.

Coming back into the room, seeing Jamieson just standing there, he sort of reminds of me of the new kid coming into class on the first day. He seems out of place. “Family can be a bit daunting, I get it.” Boy, do I get it. Picking up one of the little knickknacks on the table and turning the chromed bird around, I play with its mercury like surface. I’m reminded that I’m doing the exact same thing as him. I’m trying to avoid the cage I’m about to be tossed in. Gilded bird cage and me with clipped wings.

He’s been away from the Crown influence, their fame, and their insanity. Yeah, he’s dealt with his own crazy life, but it’s different. I decide to start the conversation that I know is inevitable. “When I left Japan, I didn’t look back. I didn’t fit in there. Iwon’tfit in, even now.”

“You’re preachin’ to the choir,” Jamieson says, pulling up a seat. For the first time in my life, with his intense look, I swear that it’s real. Someone else gets what I’m about to deal with to some extent.

Grabbing a seat across from him, I give Jamieson a bit of background. “I met Circe in school. We were hiding in England, both of us, but we didn’t know we were doing the same thing.” Shrugging, I place the brilliant bird back on the table beside me, then sit. “Anyway, we hit it off right away. Both of us in the same program, needing a place to stay, and didn’t want on the radar, so we found a cheap flat…that’s an apartment, by the way.”

He quirks his eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “So we worked dead-end jobs, ate junk food, learned piss all, then landed our jobs with the sports station. The rest is kind of racer history. Circe, Wyatt, your Dad, China, and your Mom.” I’m quiet for a moment, hoping he’ll accept that and leave it be, but I’m highly doubting it.

Counting one, two, three, and four steamboats...

“Carli,” he growls.

“Yes, Jamieson?”

“Come on, there’s more to it. What has you so twisted? Why do you need to go home if it’s the place you ran from? You were hiding out, so let me take a wild guess, you were found?”

“Yahtzee!”

His not so pleased, stop fucking around face is back since I’m screwing around.

When the food arrives, I bet I can avoid the convo, running out while his hands and mouth are jammed up with dripping animal fat.

“I think the reason you’re not telling me is you’re worried you won’t leave.”

“Jamieson, I can’t tell you. The less you know, the better for you.” I rise from the chair and walk to the shuttered French door. I don’t turn, training my gaze on the ocean below, but I know he’s out of the chair when I feel his warmth at my back. His frame encasing mine in a subtle way fits perfectly. Everything feels perfect, which is why it’s ending. I finallywantsomething, and I’ll have to give it up. That’s my life in a nutshell. Carli zero, family, Yakuza and death, two points.

Dipping his head, I feel his soft beard touch the skin of my shoulder long before his mouth. Tilting my head to the side, allowing him further access, Jamieson leaves wet kisses along the heated skin. I want to moan. I want to let him know how I feel about this, but I don’t. I relish it and enjoy the only moment I’ll have with him, knowing that without a doubt, after this, I’ll be on a plane and gone for good.

Making his way down the dragon tattoo that marks me, the Ryu, the mark of our clan, my skin purrs as his rough hair caresses it. I am the strength of the Dragon; my family is the hand of all, and I’m expected to lead. I’m destined for it, but I’m avoiding it like a gyno appointment.

“Jamieson, we shouldn’t,” I say.

Gently nipping the skin, he asks, “Why? Do you have a husband I don’t know about?”

“That would be a negative, Ghost Rider.”

Pulling the edge of my shirt lower, he slides it down my shoulder to my elbow. My skin tingles with every touch. “So, do you want a woman instead? Don’t I do it for you?”

“Quite the opposite. You’re so my type, it’s painful.”

“Then why am I undressing you, and you’re staring out the window? I saw more participation with your toy.” Growling into my skin, pulling the zipper at the back of my shirt, the cold air hits me immediately.

“Jesus.”

“No, Jamieson.”

Fuck me.This is a bad idea for so many reasons. I place a hand on the windowpane as he wanders down my waist. “Jamieson,” I whisper.

He chuckles in his manly way, his voice dropping an octave lower when he speaks. “Carli, would you like to be fucked against the glass for all to see?” As my shift of a shirt hits my hands, it shimmies past my waist, soundlessly hitting the floor.

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