A Shot With You (Bourbon Brothers)

by Teri Anne Stanley

  “You’re so damned beautiful,” was all he finally said.

  With a laugh, she rolled her eyes and stepped back into the steam, so he followed her.

  As soon as he got the door closed behind him, he bent his head to rinse the lake water from his hair—then immediately bashed his skull against the showerhead, because Lesa had knelt and taken him in her mouth.

  “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, feeling her silky tongue slide across the head, her hand wrapped around his shaft.

  He couldn’t look away when he met her eyes—crinkled at the edges with a smile—and she wrapped her lips around him and pulled him in, stroking him with her tongue. He threaded his fingers through her hair as his arousal went from already off-the-charts to never-before-in-this-lifetime. The warm water pouring over his body and her hot, wet mouth were the most exquisite feeling he knew and very shortly had his balls drawing up and legs tensing.

  “Lesa, stop,” he begged, tugging her head back.

  She leaned away, staring up at him. “No?”

  Jesus. Her mouth was open and wet, swollen. For him.

  His dick arched between them, aching and yearning.

  “Oh, yes. But I need to touch you. I don’t want this to be over yet.”

  She quirked a smile. “There’s no law that says you can’t come first.”

  “Yeah there is. It’s the I’m-likely-to pass-out-from-pleasure law. And I’m nothing if not an equal opportunity lover,” he told her, urging her to her feet.

  “Oh yeah?” She stood, moving as far away from him as the narrow space allowed.

  “Yeah.” He followed, leaning over her, finally, finally in a position to touch her as much as he wanted. Everything he wanted to kiss and lick was right here. Right now. Her moan echoed around him as he pulled her nipple into his mouth and sucked, tugging a moan from her that caressed his balls. He needed to focus on her, but every touch, every squeeze made his own need that much stronger.

  He slid a hand along the inside of her thigh, higher, to find her slick and ready for him. So wet, so smooth. Her fingers threaded through his hair as he parted her folds and traced her opening, spreading slippery arousal over her flesh.

  “Aaaah,” she cried out, when his thumb brushed the firm knot of her clit, and her knees buckled.

  Releasing her breast, he supported her with an arm around her waist and kissed her mouth again, tangling his tongue with hers, thrusting against her lips as he strummed between her legs. This close together, her face was fuzzy to him, so he stopped kissing her long enough to look at her clearly while he touched her. She looked up at him, slightly dazed expression, eyes struggling to stay focused. Orange and lime filled the small space, elusive enough to make him want to chase the source with his whole being.

  Lesa’s hair stuck to her shoulders and the shower wall as she tossed her head back and forth, legs tightening around his hand. She gripped his shoulders and held on to him while she rose on her toes.

  His erection pressed against her hip, begging him to enter her, so he tried to keep his rhythm while doing mental math.

  Clenching around his fingers tighter and tighter, she whimpered and moaned as her arousal climbed. Her orgasm, when it finally broke, was so beautiful, he nearly lost it.

  He watched her chest flush with color and her breathing slow, glorious lips softly parted. She gazed at him, her thoughts unfathomable. Until the side of her mouth quirked, and she straightened. “Turn off the water, jefe,” she ordered.

  He hadn’t realized the hot water had run out, and he was once again in danger of being soaked and cold.

  No, he wasn’t. Because as soon as he’d shut off the tap, she reached for the condom he’d placed in the soap dish.

  She tore open the package and began to roll the latex over the head of his straining erection. Her touch pushed his arousal higher, and he jerked.

  “Wait, you have to leave some space,” he said, shoving her hand away in his hurry to get the job done.

  “I want to help,” she protested, reaching to steady his shaft.

  He groaned at the feel of her hot fingers surrounding him. “You’re not helping.”

  Together, laughing, they managed to get themselves protected and stood, staring at each other. Slowly, Lesa slid one sleek leg along his, raising her knee toward his waist, opening herself to him.

  Holding her gaze, he bent his knees and leaned in, reaching to guide himself toward her slippery entrance, finding her own hand there, also trying to help.

  They both chuckled, and she lifted her arms. “I surrender,” she said.

  “Thank God.” With one firm push, he was inside her, surrounded by her heat, feeling her hold him within her body. A perfect fit.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he grabbed her legs, holding her up, and open, and completely at his mercy as he leaned into her and began to thrust.

  “Oh, Dios,” she panted. “Omigod.”

  Brandon didn’t think he’d ever felt so turned on, so energized as he did right this moment. He was both certain he wanted to do this, exactly this, for the rest of his life, and positive that he was going to come any second.

  They moved together like it was meant to be, like their bodies were made for this, in this space, in this moment.

  “Oh, Brandon. Oh, God,” Lesa cried.

  He felt her tense around him, and he had to hold on tighter to her legs. Fingernails raked his back while she pulsed around him. Tension coiled at the base of his spine, coalesced in his balls, and sent waves of pleasure through every cell in his body, and he came like he’d never come before.

  He might have blacked out for a moment, but when the world reformed around him, he was aware of Lesa stroking his arms, somehow relaxed between him and the shower wall, legs still cradling his hips.

  The boat rocked gently, and waves lapped against the pontoons.

  “That was nice,” she sighed. “When do you think we can do it again?”

  “We might have to stay like this,” Brandon rasped. “I don’t think I can unlock my knees.”

  …

  Lesa wasn’t sure she could move, either, but the idea of dying in a houseboat bathroom—even with her shriveled body wrapped around Brandon’s—was enough to get her moving. The damned room was tiny.

  “We should disengage,” he said, after a few more seconds.

  “Yes.” But she took another second to function, because it felt so good to be connected like this. Her physical return to earth was shaky. Still quivering with aftershocks, she pulled herself up against his torso. He let go of her leg, and as she slowly lowered it to the shower floor he slipped from her body. She nearly cried at the loss.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, holding her elbow.

  “I think so, just don’t get too far.”

  He snorted and looked around the room. “I don’t think I can.”

  True. There was about two cubic inches of extra space.

  When she was finally on her own two feet, he disposed of the condom and handed her a dry towel.

  He kept one for himself, rubbing at his hair then drying off the rest of his fabulous body. Lesa followed suit, finally wrapping the towel around herself, securing it by tucking one end in under her arm. Such a domestic thing—being handed a towel—and yet it sent a weird zing through her insides, making it hard to breathe. Although it was possible that they’d used up all the oxygen in the bathroom.

  When they finally exited the bathroom, the formerly bright day had dimmed, and the dogs were pacing anxiously on the deck.

  “Crap. I didn’t know it was supposed to rain,” he said. “There goes my plan to see if you wanted to sunbathe nekkid on the roof of the boat.”

  Lesa bent to peer out of the window. “It does look dark out there. Are we safe here?”

  “Safer back in here than we’d be out on the open water,” he told her. One hand on the sliding door, he asked, “Do you care if I let the girls inside?”

  “God, no. They look terrified.”

>   And indeed they were. The minute the door opened enough to admit them, Mabel practically climbed over Maude in her hurry to get in, and both dogs made a beeline for the galley kitchen table, crawling underneath and trying to get as far from “outside” as possible.

  “Big babies,” he scolded with a gentle smile. He left the door open to admit a heavy breeze, which carried the scent of rain and did little to blow away the claustrophobic feeling Lesa had gotten while in the tiny bathroom. She shook it off and focused on the dogs.

  “How long have you had them?” Lesa asked. They were obviously as devoted to him as he was to them.

  He snorted. “It feels like forever.” He reached for a cooler that he’d brought and motioned for her to follow him outside, onto the deck. They each took a springy patio chair. From the cooler, Brandon produced a couple of wrapped sandwiches and some grapes, which he put on the table between them. He dug around. “I hope you’re hungry. I may have overdone it at the IGA.”

  “And here I thought you left me in the car for so long because you were stocking up on condoms.”

  He grinned. “That, too.”

  “Mmmph,” Lesa responded, mouth already filled with smoky ham and cheddar.

  After she swallowed, she said, “I never had a dog. We were always going to get one, but then something would happen. ‘I promise, if you just wait until summer when you’re not in school and can train it, we’ll get a puppy.’ ‘I promise, as soon as tourist season is over, or the agave harvest, or until your mother doesn’t have cancer anymore…’” Shit. She hadn’t meant to bring that up, but it must have been part of the weird mood she found herself in. And the rain. Rain always made her think of Mama and long days of being shut up in the house, taking care of her.

  “That really sucks,” Brandon said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. It sucked. But it’s okay. It was a good way to learn not to make promises I wouldn’t keep.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t comment, just opened a bottle of water and handed it to her.

  She took another bite of sandwich, chasing it with a drink, searching her brain for a way to change the subject from herself. Normally she loved to talk about her future free-wheeling lifestyle, but right now, she was uncomfortable. So she would focus on Brandon. “Tell me why it’s so hard for you to take time off of work.”

  He jerked his head back. “Oh, damn. I haven’t checked my phone once since we got here.” He reached for it.

  “Oh no you don’t,” she told him, grabbing it before he could get it. Laughing, she shoved it under the cushion of the chair she sat on. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, if I’d known you were going to forget you’re taking a few days off.”

  He rubbed his head. “That’s odd. I never stop thinking about work.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you working some sort of Aztec magic on me?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what it is. Now spill. Why are you a workaholic?”

  He turned his head and looked through the window. She followed his gaze and saw that dense gray clouds had descended on the cove, and the water was a still, steel-colored sheet of glass.

  “I screwed up really badly a few years ago,” he said, staring out over the water. “I was really gung ho to prove myself to the company after I graduated from college. My dad had always been so focused on getting my brother into the business, but Justin had no interest, and I was determined to show him how useful I would be. I was gonna be worth two of Justin.”

  “How did that work out for you?” Lesa asked, after he’d been silent for a few seconds.

  “Pretty well, actually, with one glaring exception. I’ve got a knack for forecasting and picking which production management changes will give the best results to the bottom line. And I’m the Supreme Overlord of Inventory Management. That sort of thing.”

  “Wow. A superhero.”

  “No. Supreme Overlords are always villains. Don’t you know anything?”

  She lowered her head and looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. “Inventory management? I don’t think evil geniuses bother with that sort of thing.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  “I bet your dad was thrilled.”

  “I was pretty hot stuff,” Brandon admitted. “At least for a while. And then I met the cooper’s daughter.”

  “That sounds like a line from a bad joke.”

  His laugh didn’t hold any amusement. “This one doesn’t have a good punch line.”

  “The cooper—the barrel maker?” Lesa clarified, uncertain in her mental translation.

  “Yeah. I met Suzanne when she came to a meeting with her dad, who makes some of the best barrels in Kentucky. She seemed…perfect.”

  Lesa hated her already.

  “Everyone said it was like we were made for each other. She got along with my folks, and she worked in a related industry. And I was willing to go to the occasional country club event.”

  “Eww. Like garden parties and stuff?”

  Brandon shrugged. “Well. I didn’t like to go to all of the same stuff, so I managed to have to work a lot when those things came up.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Yeah. You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He scratched his ear, shifted around a little. “Anyway. She came to visit me at work a lot. I thought that was great. She even volunteered to file reports for me when I was overloaded with paperwork. God. I was so…naive. I thought she was hanging around because she liked me. Turns out she was setting me up. She wasn’t just filing paperwork for me. She was rewriting history. To cover up a theft.”

  “What?”

  “Ja— Someone at the distillery was siphoning off the profits—literally—by stealing barrels of whiskey.”

  “How does someone steal a barrel of whiskey? That’s so heavy!”

  “At the time, we were aging some of our bourbon off-site. One of our, uh, employees managed to set it up so that only four of five barrels got delivered to the other site. The rest were bottled and sold elsewhere.”

  “And she was in on it? That’s terrible!” Lesa wanted to find the bitch and do terrible, unladylike things to her. “What happened? How did you find out?”

  He rubbed his face with both hands, propped his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor. “I caught her with…with him. The other person from Blue Mountain, who was, um, married. I confronted her, and she just laughed. Told me this other guy was going to leave his wife and marry her.”

  Lesa growled.

  Brandon looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “I don’t like this woman.” An understatement.

  “Thank you. I don’t like her very much anymore, either.” He grinned, leaned over, and kissed her.

  “Did the married asshole leave his wife?”

  Brandon tilted his head left and right and said, “Well, yeah, he left his wife, but he didn’t marry Suzanne.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She went back to work for her dad for a while, but after we did an audit and found all that booze was missing, she pointed her fingers at me, then conveniently moved out of state.”

  “So you were accused?”

  “Yeah, but it didn’t hold water. My dad and Lorena knew the truth, that the, uh, employee was responsible.”

  “I hope he got fired and arrested and sent away for a long time.”

  “Well…he’s gone,” Brandon confirmed. “Anyway, Blue Mountain lost a lot of money, and I lost a good bit of credibility, because I was the inventory whiz and should have noticed the discrepancies. Instead, I was noticing, um, other things.”

  “I’m sure that when you told everyone the employee was sleeping with Suzanne, they understood.”

  “Yeah, no, I didn’t share that part.”

  “What? Why not? Surely not because her ladylike reputation would be destroyed? She should have been arrested, too!”

  He shook his head. “Maybe, but things were bad enough here at the time.”

  Hmph. Lesa neve
r would have let that go. She’d have hunted Suzanne down and dragged her name through the mud.

  “Stop frowning.” He reached to stroke her forehead. “You’re going to get an eyebrow cramp.”

  There was that weird zing again—the one she’d felt earlier when he’d handed her a towel.

  Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

  Brandon slapped his knees. “Enough pathetic wallowing. That’s the end of my sad story. I spent a long time licking my wounds after that,” he said. “I didn’t go out much. I gained a bunch of weight. I was a mess. Then, without knowing what the other was doing, Allie and Eve each decided that I needed a dog. One Sunday afternoon, I was sitting on the couch with a bag of Doritos, and Allie showed up with a puppy. Five minutes before Eve.”

  “And they both picked bloodhounds?”

  “From the same litter,” he confirmed. “My mom got sucked in because they were so cute, and let me keep both of them. Needless to say, I had to start getting out of the house. Hell, I had to get back to work to buy dog food and pay vet bills. And between taking the dogs for regular exercise and cleaning up after them, I got back in shape.”

  “I’ll say,” Lesa said, eying his hard body.

  “You know,” he said, rising and focusing those intense blue eyes on her, “There a few other things that burn calories and build muscle that don’t involve putting on my Asics.” He wiggled his eyebrows and reached a hand toward her.

  Oh, yes. Yes, there were. “What would those things be? Gymnastics? Yoga?”

  “Something like that.”

  And as the afternoon air crackled with lightning, and thunder rumbled across the lake, they made their own storm inside one of the staterooms, and Lesa’s aversion to being in tiny spaces on rainy days was, if not erased, then at least very pleasantly—very pleasantly—sidetracked.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The SUV’s headlights swept a familiar road sign, and Lesa peered at it as they left one winding country back road for another. The restaurant where they’d eaten dinner had been east of the lake, and now they were…oh, hell, she didn’t know where they were.

  “Isn’t the marina that way?” She pointed the other direction from which they’d turned.