Truly, Madly, Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

“What did you do?”

  “The jackass was dicking around. He dumped me in the lake. Not my proudest moment, but I love the asshole.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t let him get away with it.”

  “Hell no. See that shaggy hair? I chopped it while he was sleeping. He nearly beat me to death the next day. We both ended up with shaved heads that summer.” He grinned as they headed for the stairs, passing a bedroom, den, and bathroom.

  She peeked into the bathroom, taking in the gas-pump faucet and the hand drill used as a toilet paper holder. “You weren’t kidding about your bathroom. It’s very male.” As they climbed the stairs to the loft, she said, “You’re lucky. Your childhood seems so normal. Mine was like that, until we moved.”

  “If you consider sitting in the back room of a bar, hanging out in an auto shop several nights a week, or being woken up at all hours as a teenager to drive drunk customers home normal, I guess so. But it’s all good. We had good times.”

  When they reached the landing, he said, “My bedroom.”

  Pine walls and a high, exposed-beam ceiling gave the room a warm feel. A bay window, complete with a cushioned window seat, offered a spectacular view of the lake. She imagined curling up with him on that window seat and watching the sunset in the winter, when the lake was iced over, with Harley snuggled up at their feet. A leather recliner sat beside a driftwood and glass table, stacked four books high. In the center of the room was the largest bed she’d ever seen, draped in a maroon blanket.

  “Your bed is huge.”

  “It’s not the only thing about me that’s huge. Come on, sugar.” He shifted the tray against his hip.

  “This might be a stupid question, but why is it so big?”

  “Not stupid at all, and not for the reason you think. When I was little, we all used to pile into my parents’ bed on weekend mornings to wake them up. All four of us. My father would grumble, but we’d end up wrestling and laughing. It’s silly, but it’s one of my best memories. When I went to buy a bed, I decided to get one made that was big enough for that.”

  The more she learned about him, the harder she fell. “So…you want a family?”

  “Definitely, someday.” His brows slanted. “You?”

  She weighed her answer, wondering if the truth would scare him off, and quickly decided that with Bear, nothing but the truth would do.

  “I gave up wanting a family after my mom fell into the bottle. I was afraid I’d end up like her, and I didn’t want to do that to a child. But spending time with Kennedy and Lincoln, and seeing the love Gemma and Tru give them, has made me think about it again. People say you turn into your parents no matter how hard you try not to, but I don’t think that’s true. It might take effort, but I think we choose our own paths.”

  “I respect my father,” Bear said with a serious edge to his voice. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll turn into him. I think Tru and Gemma are a testament to the fact that we aren’t fated to turn into our parents, and you have proven that we choose our own paths. The only thing we’re destined to be is what we decide we want to be. Everything else is temptation, bad and good. But in the end, we’re in control.”

  He opened a door behind him, revealing a rustic screened porch with an old wooden table and four chairs that had seen better days and another bed, which sat low to the ground. A lantern stood atop the table. Like the walls, the ceiling was screened, offering the natural light and beauty of the night sky. Marred and scuffed rafters matched the knotted wood beneath their feet.

  “I love this.” She set the pitcher on the table and looked out at the lake. “Feel that breeze? Don’t you wish you could have your whole house screened in and then somehow, just for winter, wrap it up tight?”

  He set the tray on the table, and his arms circled her from behind. This was her second favorite place to be, the first being tucked against his side. “I spend nearly every night out here. I thought you might like it.”

  She turned in his arms, completely taken by this outdoorsy side of him. “I more than like it.” He held her gaze for so long, she thought he must be reading between the lines, just as she hoped he would.

  They ate dinner by the dim light of the lantern, sharing the grog and too many kisses to count. The paella was even more delicious than she remembered, but that could be because she knew the lengths Bear had gone to in order to prepare such a special night for her.

  Now they lay on their backs on the bed, their fingers laced, gazing through the screen at the stars above and talking.

  “Biggest dream?” she asked.

  “That’s a hard one. Other than you?” He squeezed her hand. “Probably making a name for myself in the motorcycle business. You?”

  “My biggest dream is this. I’ve worked so hard to have a normal life, and I know that seems simplistic. But being here with you, like this? It’s so big to me.”

  They lay in silence, listening to the sounds of nature. It was nice, not overthinking or being entertained. Just being there with Bear felt wonderful.

  “Your name,” he said softly. “Do you have a preference for what I call you?”

  Her nerves prickled. She didn’t want to get into a discussion about her past, but she liked that he was asking. “My real first name is Christine, but the only name that fits now is Crystal.” She turned onto her side, and he did the same. “But what I like most is when you call me whatever you feel. Sugar, baby cakes, your girl.”

  “I thought you weren’t into ownership.”

  “I’m not. But you’re not an asshole who treats me like a possession. If you were, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

  He touched his lips to hers. “That’s because I adore you, and if I turn into an asshole, I’m sure you will shut me down.”

  She ran her fingers over his whiskers, smiling at his response. “I’ve told you so much about myself. I got the impression you didn’t want to talk about your nickname, or the scars, but I’d like to hear the story. If you’d rather not, I understand.”

  His face went serious. “Babe, the only reason I didn’t want to talk about it was that I wanted to be close to you. Not because I didn’t want to tell you about it.” He pulled off his shirt and rolled onto his stomach, resting his cheek on his forearms.

  Between his shoulder blades were long, swooping scars. Some were slick and paler than his skin, others puckered and dark. Three looked more prominent, wider and angrier than the others.

  “You can touch them,” he said, watching her.

  She ran her fingers along the length of each one, silently counting as she went. Five. “It must have hurt a lot.”

  “I was too pumped up on adrenaline to notice the pain. We’d gone on a camping trip with a few of the families from the club. I went to take a piss away from the campsite, and when I came upon two bear cubs, I knew I was in trouble. The hair on the back of my neck stood up before I heard the mama bear growling, and as I turned, her claws came down on my back, knocking me to my knees. I remember shouting, but have no idea what I yelled. I fought with everything I had. Bullet had boxed from the time he was eight, and he was always on my ass about being tough. That’s why he used to do shit to me like toss me in the lake. He was toughening me up. Anyway, he’d made it his job to teach us all how to fight. Even as a kid Bullet was giant. There was no arguing with him. So I learned to box and to street fight, which meant enduring him as my opponent.”

  He laughed a little, as if he were remembering those boxing matches. “I clocked that bear in the snout, which stunned her for a few seconds, giving me enough time to get to my feet. And long enough for Bullet to plow through the forest like a bat out of hell and put himself between me and the bear. The whole thing happened in seconds, and someone was watching out for us, because that bear roared again, then ambled off with its cubs.”

  She flattened her hand over the scars. “Your heart is going crazy.”

  “Adrenaline. It’s like I’m right back there facing that beast. Man, Bullet didn’t hesitate to put hi
mself between us. I owe him my life.”

  “You’re both so brave.” She lay beside him again, and he pulled her close.

  “I think you take the cake on bravery,” he said gently. “I guess we both know a little about survival.”

  She lay in his arms, listening to the sounds of the lake and the leaves brushing in the breeze. Lying together, talking and sharing pieces of themselves felt like a whole new level of intimacy. She was surprised by how much time she’d wasted worrying about it.

  “Do you ever wish you’d gone to the police?” he finally asked.

  She closed her eyes. She’d sensed that he’d been stewing about what she’d gone through, but she’d hoped he wouldn’t bring it up again.

  “Not really, but I sometimes regret that I wasn’t strong enough to stay in school, to have been in control enough to complete my degree. And paying back a portion of the Pell Grant sucked. But, you know, with time comes perspective,” she admitted. “Sometimes I look back and I’m surprised I got out of the trailer park at all, and other times I somehow always knew I would. Do you ever regret not going away to college?”

  “I’m not sure ‘regret’ is the right word. But do I wish I could have learned more? Sure. Who wouldn’t? By the way, this week is going to suck. I’ve got a club meeting tomorrow night, and I’m helping Tru paint Tuesday night. I thought I could see you after, but he wants to paint the playroom as well as the rec room. I think he’s nervous about the house being ready for the wedding. And Wednesday and Thursday I have to bartend until two in the morning.” The muscles around his jaw tensed.

  “It won’t suck, and I’m glad you’re helping Tru and Gemma. That gives me time to work on the costumes.” And time to miss you.

  “Can I see you Friday night? We can go on a walk down by the water, grab some dinner.”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  He ran his hand along her thigh. “How did you get so far under my skin that the thought of not seeing you for a night feels like my heart’s being ripped out?”

  “Don’t tell Bullet that,” she teased. “He’ll want to man you up, and I like you just the way you are. And I can’t answer you, because I’m still trying to figure out how you got me to tell you all my secrets and let down my guard so fast.”

  “Fast? It’s been more than eight months. That is not fast.”

  She laughed. He had her there. “What’s your real name? Fast Freddy?” She was teasing, but she realized she didn’t know his real name. “What is your given name?”

  “Bob. After my grandfather. Robert Whiskey.”

  “Bobby. I like that a lot. Maybe I’ll call you that.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Babe, you can call me anything you want, as long as you do it often.” He squeezed her butt, and she flinched. “What’s wrong?”

  “My butt is sore,” she whispered. “I’m not used to riding for so long.”

  His eyes darkened, and it made her laugh.

  “You are a dirty biker boy.”

  “You haven’t even begun to get to know my dirty side, sweetheart.”

  His husky voice and the naughtiness of his words drew her in like a magnet. He massaged her butt and took her in a sweet kiss that quickly turned insistent. Their bodies touched, and she could feel every hard inch of him.

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Let me soothe all your sore muscles. Lose the dress, babe. You can keep your panties on.”

  Chapter Twelve

  BEAR GAVE CRYSTAL privacy to undress and went into the bedroom to search for the body oil Dixie had given him last Christmas. He dug around in his nightstand, finding it beneath the rest of the crap in the drawer. When he returned to the porch, he stopped just inside the threshold. Seeing Crystal lying on her belly in the middle of his bed wearing only a pair of black lace panties was torture, but he was determined to keep his word and behave.

  At least he’d try.

  She blushed as he came to the side of the bed. “I’m more nervous than I was this morning when I was just as naked.”

  He lay beside her, brushing her hair from her shoulder and running his fingers along her cheek. He was so full of her; he wanted to reassure her as badly as he wanted to make love to her. “You don’t have to be nervous. I made you a promise, and I’ll honor it. I’m not going to touch you anywhere you don’t want me to.”

  She trapped her lower lip between her teeth, then whispered, “I think that’s the problem. I want you to touch me. And I want to touch you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to—”

  He kissed her slow and sweet to reassure her.

  “Then we won’t,” he promised. “Do you trust me enough to let me get out of my jeans so they don’t get oily?”

  “Yes.” She watched him strip them off, her fingers curling into the sheets as her eyes moved down his body, lingering on his erection.

  He crouched beside the bed. “You sure you’re cool with this?”

  “Yeah.”

  His eyes drifted down her slender back, to the dip at the base of her spine and over the black lace. “Where does it hurt the worst?”

  “My thighs and butt, a little on my lower back. And my shoulders from holding on to you so tight.” Her smile widened. “I think I need a full-body massage.”

  He laughed and straddled her hips without putting any weight on her. He poured oil into his palm and rubbed his hands together to warm them up before massaging her shoulders. She let out a long sigh. He worked his way down each arm, kneading away the tension. He rubbed between her shoulder blades, easing the stress from her body, away from her spine and along her sides, feeling her breathing slow and then quicken as his fingers brushed her breasts. He lowered his mouth to her cheek and pressed a kiss there, on her jaw, her neck, and her shoulder. Her hips rocked up beneath him, and he went back to the promised massage.

  Moving lower, he rubbed the tension from around her waist and hips. She moaned sweetly, and he saw a smile lift her lips. “Scoot up, babe.”

  She inched toward the head of the bed, giving him room to massage her foot. Kneading the tension from her sole earned another entrancing sound. He lavished the other foot with the same attention before working his way up her calves. He couldn’t resist kissing the backs of her knees.

  “Do that again.”

  He did, slicking his tongue along the sensitive skin. Her hips rose off the mattress.

  “That’s hot,” she whispered.

  She had no idea how hot.

  His body blazed with an unquenchable thirst for her. He continued massaging her legs, and when he reached her thighs, he slowed, rubbing deep and sensually, knowing that was where most of her aches and pains were concentrated. She spread her legs wider, allowing his knees to fit between, and he caressed her hamstrings, moving up along the curve of her ass, gently stroking her cheeks. He pressed his lips to first one cheek and then the other. Her body was so relaxed, but with each press of his lips, he felt her stiffen a little, so he pulled back.

  He poured more oil in his hands and gently stroked her inner thighs, but she was too alluring not to kiss. When his thumbs grazed her panties, he kissed the crease where her ass met her leg. She fisted her hands tighter in the sheets, turning him on even more. He ran his hands along her ribs, brushing over the sides of her breasts, to her arms, and all the way down to each one of her fingertips.

  Coming down over her, he whispered, “Still okay?”

  “Ohmygod, yes,” she said in a heady voice.

  “Can I take your panties off, baby? I don’t want to get them oily.”

  “Yes.” She lifted her hips off the bed.

  When he’d asked to take off her panties, it had really been to keep them from getting oily. But as he moved to the side and took them off, he gritted his teeth against the dark thoughts going through his mind. And as he touched her, those thoughts came racing forward, testing his control. He was extra careful as he kneaded her bottom. His hands covered the supple globes, and she moved with him, widening her legs as his thumbs
neared her sex, an open invitation. It was torture resisting the urge to touch her there, but he didn’t want to assume he’d read her right.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. “Touch me.”

  He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and continued massaging her bottom, teasing her sex with his thumbs. Each stroke earned a needful sound. He open-mouth kissed each cheek as he stroked between her legs. When she raised her ass, it was too much to resist. He spread her cheeks and slicked his tongue over her wet center, coating his tongue with her arousal. Sheer bliss. She moaned, lifting her ass higher, and he didn’t hesitate to move one arm around her belly to tease her from the front as he licked her. His cock ached to get in on the sensual feast.

  “Make me come,” she begged. “I need to come.”

  Oh, hell yes. He moved one hand to her breast, using his other between her legs, and devoured her with his mouth, thrusting his tongue inside her sweet center to the same rhythm he wanted to use to make love to her. She writhed against his mouth, and he slid his fingers inside her, seeking the secret spot that would give her what she needed. She made a low crooning sound, writhing against him as she cried out his name. He wrapped his arm around her, kissing her back as she rode the waves of ecstasy.

  Gently turning her onto her back, he positioned her legs on either side of his knees, and her eyelids fluttered.

  “You okay, babe?” he asked, watching a smile lift her lips.

  “I’m in a Bear coma. Don’t stop.”

  He chuckled as he kissed the center of her chest and brought his mouth to her breast, his tongue circling her nipple. She bowed up, clutching the blanket tighter as he lowered his mouth over the taut peak.

  “Bear,” she pleaded. “My whole body feels like a live wire.”

  He rose onto his knees, noticing for the first time the tuft of blond curls between her legs. His heart lurched. She’d changed her outward appearance, but she would have no need to change what people didn’t see. A painful reminder of what she’d gone through and even more confirmation of how much she trusted him.