Page 67 of The Bourbon Bet
Heat explodes from my neck to my ears. “Was I really that loud?”
“And it’s incredibly sexy.” He places a light kiss on my knee. “Which means you’ll have to answer the door.”
“Why?” The crash from my orgasm must have left my mind foggy, because I have no idea what he's talking about.
He stands, and the answer becomesveryapparent. The outline of his erection makes me want to reach for him, but nervousness skids along the edge of satiated passion. And not only because of his size. Would it be wise to keep going—to go all the way?
My body screams yes, but sleeping with him while my deal with Thorne still hovers between us is reckless. And unfair to Sebastian.
He sits next to me, kissing my neck. I straighten. “I—I’ll answer it.” I nearly sprint from him in my indecision, opening the door.
Jenny steps inside, asking where to set the drinks. I tell her the kitchen table is fine, hoping my panties aren’t lying somewhere out in the open. After artfully arranging the glasses and napkins, Jenny returns to the living room.
“Thank you, Jenny. That’s all we’ll need from you tonight,” Sebastian says from the couch. He pulls a wallet from his pocket and removes some money. Looking at me with a mix of apology and embarrassment, he asks, “Could you give her the tip?”
I look at the throw pillow placed strategically on his lap and pull my lips between my teeth to keep from giggling. He mouths, “Not funny.”
“It is a little,” I whisper back, taking the folded cash in his hand. Glancing down, I cough. There must be at least ten one-hundred-dollar bills.
I walk to Jenny, the cash heavy in my hand. She probably feels the same way about money, counting every dollar like I do. We have that in common, and probably many more things. More than I have with the man who handed over this fortune without blinking—the same man I was just kissing, who I’m supposed to be keeping at arm’s length because of a deal I made to keep my tiny bookstore open. A deal I had to make out of desperation because my reality isn’t thousand-dollar tips. It’s shoestring budgets, overdue notices, and a dream I might have to let die because I’m beginning to care too much for this man.
I swallow, and my throat clicks, suddenly dry. I need to think this through. But if we’re alone again and he kisses me and touches me, reasonable thought will be impossible.
Jenny thanks him and wishes us a pleasant evening. I stare at the closing door, peeling back my cravings and concerns in quick succession. Isowant to stay and discover if Sebastian is as loud as me when he comes. But I should figure out my mess with Thorne first.
The clinking of ice cubes pulls my attention from my conflicting desires to Sebastian. He has walked to the table and downed his drink in one large swallow. Returning the glass to the table, he faces me. “With the fireworks crowd, I think it’d be faster for me to walk than drive you home,” he says.
Is he kicking me out? My chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. I know I’d been talking myself into not staying, but my disappointment is heavy.
“You want me to leave?” I ask, rooted to the spot near the living room entrance.
“Want? No.” His voice is rough as sandpaper. “What I want is to carry you into that bedroom and not come out until morning. But what I need to do—” He takes a measured step toward me. “I see your hesitation. The last thing I want to be is your morning regret.”
“But what about you? I, um…”
He grins crookedly. “Came.”
My cheeks flush with warmth. “Um, yes.” Doesn’t he expect reciprocation?
As if hearing my unspoken question, he says, “You don’t owe me a damn thing, Rosalia.” Heat returns to his eyes. “And believe me, just touching and tasting you was more than a fair trade.”
The intensity in his gaze scorches through me, his words unraveling what little resolve I’ve gathered. My agreement with his brother suddenly feels distant, overshadowed by the man standing before me, all broad shoulders and intent eyes that promise all my desires.
My chest rises and falls with quickened breath. The room shrinks around us, the space between our bodies charged with unspoken possibility. Tomorrow looms with complications and betrayals, but tonight pulses with a different kind of promise. My hands reach for him without my permission. “I should…”
“Get home.” It sounds like it hurt him to say this. His fingertips brush mine, and he sucks in a sharp breath at even this minimal contact. “If we don’t leave right now, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to do the right thing. See if you feel the same in the morning.”
I nod. “You don’t need to walk me home.”
“We’ve already been over this. Yes, I do. I’ll get my jacket, and we’ll leave.”
He disappears into the bedroom to retrieve his jacket, and with his touch and kisses still searing my skin, I’m tempted to follow him. But the rational voice in my head warns me to slow down, to untangle myself from Thorne’s web before diving headfirst into something with Sebastian.
He emerges a moment later, slipping on his jacket. “Ready?” he asks.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He holds the door open for me and I step into the hallway. Standing beside him, waiting for the elevator, gravity shifts,my body fighting its pull to him. Each passing second stretches longer than the last. His presence radiates a warmth that calls to something deep within me. My fingertips tingle with the urge to close the small distance between us.
The soft ping of the arriving elevator interrupts my thoughts but doesn’t diminish their intensity. Does he feel this invisible current drawing us toward an inevitable collision, or is it only me?
