Page 138 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
“You’ve been pulling back lately,” I whispered.
She shook her head, staring at her hands in her lap.
“You have. Don’t lie to me.”
“I never could.”
“So then tell me what’s going on.”
She sighed. “Ethan feels threatened by you, I think.”
I tried to act surprised — but really, it was just affirmation of what I already knew.
“That’s the wrong word,” she backtracked. “He just… I don’t know. He feels like he has to compete with you. And I hate that I made him feel that way. I just need to focus on my relationship with him, and I can’t do that if he sees me spending all my time with another man.”
“But we’re us,” I reminded her. “It’s always been us.”
“Has it?” she argued, looking up at me through her dark lashes.
The boldness of that question shocked me still.
“Seems to me like it’s always been us and other people.”
I swallowed, tracing the edges of the shadows battling with the moonlight on her face.
She was right.
First, it was Jenna. Now, Ethan.
But I was tired of letting other people stand in our way.
“It’s just us right now,” I said, voice low.
“Jamie…”
“You said you could never lie to me,” I whispered, heart pounding in my chest as the air seemed to come alive around us, like the earth couldn’t help but buzz with anticipation, too.
“I couldn’t.”
“So then tell me, B,” I said, reaching out for her. I grabbed her wrists in my hands, gentle — yet firm — and tugged her closer. “Is it Ethan scared of you being alone with me, or is it you who’s afraid?”
The muscles of my jaw were tight and strained as I watched her, those wide eyes, those parted lips…
Answer me, I pleaded with my gaze.
“Both.”
Her admission was soft, but it stroked the fire already burning inside me.
I licked my lips. “Why?”
“Because I don’t trust myself when I’m with you.”
I squeezed my eyes tight at finally hearing it, at knowing she felt the same. I blew out a hard breath through my nose, my right hand dropping hers and running up her arm before sliding to her neck. I felt along every inch of her skin, breathing smoke the whole way.
When my eyes opened again, it was like seeing her for the first time.
I leaned in closer, and B backed away, farther and farther until she was on her ass and I was on my knees in front of her, invading her space.
“Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?”
“Yes,” she breathed, the lie thinly veiled.
“Then I hope you’ll forgive me later.”
I closed the distance then, catching her rebuttal with a sweep of my tongue against hers. She gasped at the touch, pushing up on her knees to meet me, and I groaned at the way that gasp elicited something primal deep inside me.
My hands slid under her sweater, gripping onto her waist and holding on for dear life. And my theory that her saying she’d be mad if I kissed her was a lie was proven when she started tugging at my hoodie, her fingers clutching the fabric and pulling me closer.
I broke our kiss, trailing my teeth and tongue down the length of her neck, loving the taste of her. My hands moved up of their own volition, and when my thumbs brushed the lacy bottom of her bra, B hissed.
My cock twitched in my sweatpants, eager and impatient, and when I traced the edges of her bra and she arched into the touch, I had to fight against every urge in my body to keep moving slow.
I spun her away from me, holding her hips steady as she lost her balance. I wanted her facing the waves. I wanted the ocean — our ocean — to have a front-row view to me driving my little surfer girl wild.
She leaned back into me, and I kissed her neck, biting down softly as our conversation in the snake garden came flashing back to me.
“Is this the passion you’ve been missing? The urgency?” I asked, smirking at the chills that broke on her skin, and I sucked her earlobe into my mouth. I hooked my thumbs under her bra, realizing taking it off would take too long, and I’d waited long enough to touch her.
I pushed it up enough to let her breasts spring free, and they were the perfect size, fitting into my palms like they were always meant to be there.
I hummed my approval as I rolled each nipple, pinching softly. B arched into me, her ass rubbing against my hard-on and making my next breath hard to grasp.
“Because I can’t fathom taking my hands off you right now,” I told her, remembering that was what she wanted, what she needed.
If only she knew I’d felt that way about her for years.
I snaked a hand into her hair, tugging back until I could capture her mouth with mine. I wanted to consume every moan she let out, wanted to taste it and savor it and commit it to memory. She moaned even louder when my other hand slid down her lean stomach, and I dipped under the band of her boy shorts and sweatpants in one swift push, smirking when she bucked against the touch.
