Page 112 of The Bourbon Bet
I cup her breasts, then run my hands down her sides to the lace edges of her panties. “My favorite fucking color,” I murmur.
My fingertips memorize the texture of the lace against her soft skin. Her name escapes me on a whisper.
I’ve seen her like this before, felt the weight of her above me, but tonight my chest tightens with something more than desire. The word “love” pulses betweenus, changing everything. It’s like seeing her for the first time all over again, but deeper, with every barrier between us finally fallen.
“Your turn,” she says, tugging on the hem of my T-shirt.
I sit, pulling the back of my shirt over my head, and tossing it aside. I kiss her until she rocks against me again. I wrap her in my arms, falling back against the covers—finally, finally home.
Rosalia slides down me, her fingertips grazing the inside of my legs. Every touch feels like a promise that this is real, that we’re really here together.
Reaching my waist, she tugs down my lounge pants, tracing her tongue along my length. My eyelids flutter closed. The heat, pressure, and perfect rhythm make my head spin. I barely manage not to thrust into her throat, my muscles lock with the effort. “Fuck—Rose—” the rest of my words fail me.
I tangle my fingers in the silky strands of her hair, gently guiding her movements, but also seeking a connection, a tangible reminder that this is real, that she’s with me. I can’t take my eyes off her. Need to see her. Need her to see me.
Before I come undone, I urge her up. When our bodies align, I look into her eyes. “I need to be as close as possible to you.”
We’ve danced this dance before, but never with everything laid bare between us. The words “I love you” echo in my mind with each pulse, each gasp, breaking something loose inside me.
She nods, her gaze mirroring my yearning. We undress each other, savoring each revealed inch. I ache to taste her, but she rolls, pulling me on top of her in a rush of heat, kisses, and hungry touches.
“You’re everything. Everything I’ve ever wanted,” I breathe the words into the curve of her neck.
Her soft sigh mixes with my moan. We move together like we were made for this, our bodies finding a perfect rhythm. The heat between us builds slowly, each movement drawing us deeper into territory both natural and completely transformed. Passion builds until it’s almost too much, until every nerve ending is alive with sensation.
With a shift of my hips, she cries out my name as she comes apart, and I follow her over the edge.
We collapse together, breathless and shaking. For a long moment, we simply hold each other, letting our racing hearts slow, letting the world settle back into focus around us. I brush damp strands of hair from her flushed face, taking in every detail of this moment.
When I look into her eyes, I see my future.
“That was…,” I search for the right words to describe the indescribable.
“Incredible,” she finishes, tracing patterns on my chest. “I’ve never felt this connected to someone.”
“When I’m with you, it’s like I’ve finally found my way home.” I trace the curve of her shoulder. “And the funny thing is, I never knew I was lost until I met you.”
She shifts off my chest, looking into my eyes. “I love you, Sebastian. You have all of my heart, and I promise to always protect yours.”
A surge of contentment fills me. “And I swear to do the same for yours. You are my forever,” I vow.
With her head on my chest, our breathing falls into sync. I imagine tomorrow, next week, next year. Our story won’t be perfect—real love never is—but it will be ours, messy and beautiful and true. And that’s better than perfect could ever be.
Epilogue
Three years later
Rosalia
I lie with my eyes closed on a cushion as soft as a cloud, the ocean breeze warm against my skin. The sun and waves from the Indian Ocean lull me to sleep. My phone rings from somewhere in the honeymoon suite. It’s probably my mom. Since returning briefly to Michigan to open my second bookstore, The Next Chapter, we’ve become closer, shedding our old dissatisfying relationship to work as a team to make theshop a success.
That’s probably the reason for the call. Mom is working on an outreach literacy program with the old school systems she left to work full-time at the new bookstore. Everything is in the final stages. Before I can answer or even leave my comfy lounger, Sebastian calls my name.
I peek open an eye. The turquoise water surrounding Seychelles ripples like a jewel in the distance from our mountain villa. “Want me to wash the sand out of your hair?” he asks, his voice promising more than a shampoo.
That gets me up and moving. Palm fronds sway gently in the balmy breeze.
I walk past the shimmering infinity pool, my bare feet padding softly on the sun-warmed flagstones. Lush tropical foliage and bright flowers border the path. The tart sweetness of hibiscus, the creamy richness of plumeria, and an ethereal essence of paradise greet me.
