Page 15 of Bourbon Wishes
"What are you talking about?" I cry, frustrated and confused. He's talking about everything but the dang point, and my head is starting to throb. It's not even a migraine. It's him. He's giving me an aneurysm.
"When I came to your office, you were on the phone," he growls, the muscle in his cheek ticking. "Who were you talking to?"
I open my mouth to tell him I was talking to my brother, and then snap it closed, eyeing him suspiciously. The look in his eyes is intense, like the answer matters to him for some reason.
I think back to that conversation, trying to remember exactly what I said. But honestly, it wasn't anything unusual. Caleb called to tell me that his fiancée, Sutton, is performing at an awards show in Los Angeles soon. They're planning to come and see me before they head back to Nashville.
I told him that I couldn't wait to see him. Sutton is a big country star, so they've been spending a lot of time in Nashville since they got together a few months ago.
"Who is he, Constance?"
"What?"
"The man you think you love," he grits out, his eyes black.
I gape at him for a minute, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. Trying to understand it. And then realization hits likea gong. Oh my gosh. Did Bastian orchestrate this entire dinner because he'sjealous?
I automatically want to dismiss the possibility as preposterous…but the way he's looking at me like the fate of the world hinges on my answer tells me that it's not preposterous at all. Bastian Grayson, autocratic pain-in-my-ass, orchestrated this entire farce of a dinner meeting out of sheer jealousy.
Haven and Jax are going to flip when they find out.
"Why do you care?" I ask instead of answering. Part of me wants to squeal like a little girl, though. Bastian is losing his mind with jealousy over me. This is so bad…and I love it anyway.
"You know why," he grits out, tugging me closer to his body.
"Humor me," I say, tossing his words from this morning back at him.
He stares at me silently for so long that I don't think he's going to answer me. But then he rumbles a curse. "You're a problem for me. Ever since you came to work at the vineyard, you've been a problem. You sit across from me, mouthing off, and all I want to do is push you to your knees and fill that fucking smart mouth. Now, tell me who the fuck he is."
It's my turn to stare at him, shocked, my heart racing…turned on and twisted inside out. He's going to ruin me. I know he is. I see it in his eyes, the desire to do just that. To break me apart and mold me into something else, something that's entirely his. It'll probably end in disaster. Isn't that the way it always ends when you sleep with your boss? Disaster, heartbreak, and complete devastation.
I should run from that, far and fast. Except…
"Yeah, I lied about the meeting," he says, his eyes still locked on me. "But I wasn't letting you go out with some motherfucker who doesn't know what you want and who will never deserve you."
"I was talking to my brother," I say softly, calmly.
"Fuck," he grunts, yanking me fully up against him. One hand plunges into my hair, craning it back. The other wraps around my waist, pinning me against the hard wall of his chest.
His lips come down on mine, all bourbon, heat, and hard command. I groan into the kiss, my fingers tangled up in the lapels of his jacket to hold him in place. Even though the air is frigid around us, it steams between us as his tongue touches mine.
He consumes me with his kiss, annihilating every single expectation I ever had. It's been years since I was last kissed, and it was never like this. This is an inferno igniting and consuming everything it touches—my sanity, my body, and him.
I press closer, moaning into his mouth as the hand around my waist slips lower, his hand prowling across my ass like it's his to touch. I feel his erection nestled against my belly, hot, hard, and insistent. God, he's so fucking hard right now.
I don't think before I reach for it, desperate to touch him the way I do in my dreams every night.
His fingers close around my wrist, his grip firm and unyielding.
"Don't," he growls. "Not unless you want me to bend you over the hood of your car and let everyone in that restaurant watch what I do to you."
"As fun as that sounds, I kind of imagined my first time in a bed," I say, panting. Trembling. "I don't really care if it's yours or mine."
"Fucking hell." His lips come down on mine in another hard kiss, this one hard enough to bruise. I'm not sure if that's a yes or a no. At least, not until he starts walking me backward, still kissing me.
I stumble and trip, but he keeps me on my feet. My back lands against a cold, metallic surface. I arch away, gasping, but hedoesn't let me go far. He pushes me backward, pinning me to the side of his truck.
One hand rakes up my thigh, his fingers searing a trail all the way up underneath the short hem of my dress. His eyes are locked on mine, as if he's daring me to stop him. The thing is, though…I can't. That's the problem with him. Even when he infuriates me, I can't tell him no. With his hands on my body, I don't even stand a chance.
