Page 85 of When We Were Us
I nod as she grabs two glasses and fills one a quarter of the way, then hesitates before pouring it to half full. She does the same for the other one and recaps the bottle. I raise my eyebrows and she smiles, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Turning, she hands me a glass and I take it, letting our fingers brush as I do. Why does everything with this woman feel so damn erotic?
She clinks her glass against mine and lifts it to her lips.Humming in appreciation, her eyes close briefly before she opens them and smiles up at me through her lashes.
She licks her lips. “Tastes like someone I know,” she says in a low voice that goes straight to my dick.
“That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble, gorgeous.” I tip my drink back and take a long sip, needing to keep my mouth and hands occupied, but my eyes stay focused on hers.
She raises onto her toes, and I freeze as I watch her bring her lips to within an inch of the corner of my mouth. Her perfect tits press against me. “Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
I reach for her, grab a handful of her hair at the nape of her neck in my fist, and yank her head back. Her startled eyes flick up to mine and I pull her flush against me. Her hand fists in my shirt, steadying herself.
My voice is a low rasp in her ear. “Keep talking and I’ll put that sweet ass of yours up on this counter, hike up that goddamn dress, and bury my face in that pretty, little pussy.”
Her eyes go wide, and her grip tightens on my shirt. Her breathing is ragged, and her mouth parts on a quiet gasp that I feel on my lips.
Raising my glass, I take another sip of whiskey and lean in before our lips meet, and I let the whiskey slowly drizzle from my mouth to hers. She lets out a whimper and swallows hard. I use my thumb to swipe at the tiniest trickle that ran out the corner of her mouth, sucking my thumb into my mouth.
“And Wrenley? I don’t give a shit who sees.”
Then, I release her with a small smirk. Forcing myself to grab my drink and the blankets, I do the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I turn my back and walk my aching cock out of the kitchen into the cool night air.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
wrenley
I stand there,stunned, and 1,000% percent turned on as I watch Hank’s retreating back. His incredible ass taunts me in those standard everyday, run-of-the-mill cargo pants he loves so much. My cheeks are flushed, and a low throb beats a steady pulse between my thighs. Then, he’s gone, and the low snick of the back door closing tells me I’m alone.
Holy. Shit.
I realize I’m still gripping the whiskey in my hand, and I tip the glass up, taking a long drink and grimacing as I swallow. It's pretty smooth, but I’m not a whiskey drinker; that whole show was for Hank’s benefit. My not-so-subtle way of letting him know just how much I want him and love the taste of him. But this is the stuff of spine-straightening courage. So, I take another big gulp and cough when Finn comes around the corner.
She stops the second she sees me, and she takes in the scene as I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. Her eyes move from my face to the glass hanging at my side, then to the bottle on the counter behind me. A slow, knowing smile spreads across her face.
“The way Hank almost ran me over out there, I thought maybe you guys had an argument. But by the looks of you, I'd say that was an entirely wrong assessment.”
My breath bursts from me on an incredulous, slightly hysterical laugh.
She tosses a look over her shoulder. Once she decides the coast is clear, she whispers, “What happened?”
“Nothing? Everything?” I say.
I feel giddy, like I’m back in high school and just got asked to the prom by the hottest boy in school. It's ridiculous and exhilarating and I’m sure it's the best and most terrifying feeling in the world. Of course, it could also be the effects of the whiskey. All I know is that my skin is on fire and my stomach is a riot of butterflies.
She cocks her head to the side and grunts out a frustrated gasp. “Everything? What the hell does that mean?”
I touch my lips as I think about the filthy things Hank said to me. His voice hoarse and raspy and so full of barely restrained lust. The grip he’d had on my hair was hot as hell. Just this side of painful as he yanked my head back. Another shot of desire shoots straight to my core. I hadn’t expected dominant Hank.
Keep talking and I’ll put that sweet ass of yours up on this counter, hike up that goddamn dress, and bury my face in that pretty little pussy.
“Did he kiss you?” she whisper-shouts, watching the smile split my face.
I nod my head and then shake it. I’m still dizzy with lust and the thought of Hank’s face between my legs.
“No. Well, yes. I mean…sort of?” I blink at her. My lips feel like they're on fire. Did that whole, hot-as-hell whiskey kiss count as an actual kiss? And let us not forget the brush of his lips against my shoulder, or his husky admission that he, in fact, did want to devour me.
I think Hank broke my brain.
