Hot Honey Kisses: 3:AM Kisses 17

by Addison Moore

  “Thank you, I think.” I glance down at my little black dress with a white bow cinched around my waist. It’s light and strapless, the perfect combo for an outdoor North Carolina wedding in July. Sunday and I went to the salon earlier and got our hair done together. Believe me, I needed to be pampered after having that run-in with that brute this morning. For a second, I think about bringing it up, but to be honest, the last thing I want to discuss at Sunday’s wedding is a murder investigation I’m involuntarily a part of.

  A thought comes to me, a far more entertaining topic of conversation. “This old thing?” I give a sly smile his way. “I can’t help it. I always seem to be the best dressed person wherever I go.”

  “Ah…” He tips his head to me, letting me know he remembers our little game well. As much as Shep and I don’t get along, there was a long stretch where we actually did. One of the things we got a kick from was playing the hell out of the humble brag game.

  “And thank you as well.” He gives his lapels a quick tug. “I have a habit of being fearfully dapper on a daily basis.”

  “Believe me, it doesn’t go unnoticed. But then, I have to endure my fair share of unstoppable catcalls myself.” I blow over my nails before buffing them against my chest. It’s two to one and I’m up.

  Shep’s eyes connect with mine, and I’d bet money a spark just emitted from them. I could feel that electrical tingle straight down to my toes.

  “I think you should carry mace and a stick to ward the boys off.” The smile glides from his face as Eli pops up and wraps an arm around me.

  “What’s up?” He slaps Shep five, and I can’t help but notice how perturbed Shep suddenly looks. Note to self: Shep does not appreciate anything coming between him and his humble brags. I’m sure with an ego like his, it’s good to work them out of the system now and again.

  Eli looks to me. “The app is almost operational. You should be good to go in just a few weeks.”

  “Are you kidding?” I hop up and down, clearly losing my cool over a dating app I will most likely never utilize myself. I may have developed an app in which two strangers connect in the hope of a coital good time being had by all, but it doesn’t mean I have to believe in its lunacy. “That’s fantastic.” I look to Shep. “I mean, of course, this is working out on time. This is me we’re talking about.” I give Eli a quick wink.

  Eli inches back with a laugh. “Rumor has it, the food truck is offering samples. I’d better load up before things get underway.”

  He takes off, and I step in close to Shep, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him in strong, pulsating waves—sort of the way the insides of my thighs are quivering. His chest is so wide, so rock solid—I’ve gleaned this from experience—his dress shirt looks as if it’s straining to contain him.

  “Can’t wait to eat all those sugary sweet cupcakes,” I breathe the words right over his lips, daring him to move, but Shep remains stealth in our standoff. “It really sucks knowing that no matter how many I inhale I won’t gain a single pound.” I give a little shrug—so not true, but what the hell. I’m not exactly sitting on a stack of Bibles. I might as well impress him with my mad metabolism skills—imaginary though they might be. Now that was the humble brag of the century.

  Shep’s chest bounces with a laugh as he all but closes the gap between us, those eyes of his never leaving mine. The wicked intent on his face is enough to hold my attention for another millennium or longer.

  His cheek flickers with the promise of something naughty. “It’s too bad no matter how much I drink I’ll never get as toasted as you did that night. I’ve always had an uncanny ability to hold my liquor.”

  My lips part into an open smile. “So not fair. Those are fighting words and grounds for a do-over. I may be sobriety-challenged after I’ve had a few in me, but at least I know that pancakes aren’t meant to be crispy.”

  His brows pinch low. “Now those are fighting words and grounds for a do-over.” He tips his head closer to mine, his own lips parting as his gaze blazes over me with the heat of ten thousand hellfires. Yes, Shep Collins is undoubtedly getting laid tonight and—

  Before I can finish the tempting thought, Lex gives a mean whistle, and just like that, the wedding is underway.

  Both Rush and Nolan walk Sunday down the aisle, and I stand up for her just the way she requested. In no time at all Sunday and Seth are pronounced man and wife—and just in time for the sun to set in a spectacular blaze of glory as they share their first kiss.

  No sooner do they make their way back down the aisle as an official Mister and Missus than a confetti cannon launches on either side of the overlook, and the entire wedding party is crop dusted with tiny pink paper hearts. Pictures are taken, and the food truck fires up and does its thing.

  Harley trots over with Teagan and Colby, each of them in sky-high ankle breakers that look as if they could prove lethal on a dark mountain dirt path like the one we’re currently tottering on.

  Harley wrinkles her nose at me. “We’re headed down the hill to Beta house.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll catch a ride back with Sunday and Seth.”

  “Perfect. And in the event you’re in the mood for a wedding night yourself, I bought you and the naughty professor a little gift.” She plucks something out of her purse and stuffs it into mine without asking.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t do drug transports from the hours of six to eleven.” I pull open my bag just enough to peer inside and immediately swat the heck out of my new and truly disturbed roommate. I glance back to make sure Teagan and Colby are fully entranced in their own conversation to notice. “Where did you get these?”

  “I have connections.” She dips her hand in and nearly plucks out the peacock feathered mask, but I quickly bury it back to the bottom and zip my purse before she does something ridiculous like tossing that sadistic hood over at Shep. “Loosen up, would you?” She gives my cheek a hearty pinch. “And try to have a great time. I hear weddings are a perfect time to invade West Virginia.” She leans forward and pulls me in for a quick embrace.

  I knew that letting her in on Shep’s little slipup would prove to be lethal.

  “Use a condom. I don’t want to be standing here come Christmas freezing my ass off because you couldn’t pull it together.”

  “You mean he couldn’t pull out.”

  She shoots me with her finger, and the three of them take off with a friendly wave.

  I’ve got news for Harley. There’s no way I’m letting my West Virginia get penetrated in a panty raid. No way, no how. I’ll erect a fort of cupcakes around myself if I have to.

  A warm body comes up from behind, and I don’t need to turn to see who it is. That thick, intoxicating cologne gives him away.

  “You’re not eating your weight in cupcakes,” he whispers just above my ear, and a mean shiver goes off through me. Shep has always held the ability to carry out a low baritone when he wants to and, dear God, did he ever want to.

  “I’m saving room for a different kind of dessert.” I lean back involuntarily just to feel the warmth of his body washing over mine.

  “And what would that be?” His voice strums over my skin, setting every last inch of my flesh on fire. Under no circumstances can I turn around. Under no circumstances am I to latch onto those flame blue eyes. I must avoid the hell out of Shepherd Collins while he’s strutting around this mountain like a scrumptious piece of sex dripping off that proverbial stick and, my God, how I hate that saying. But in my defense Shep happens to be the personification of it at the moment. All of this pent-up sexual aggression is bound to blow right out of me, erupt, explode, detonate. And as if on cue, the night sky detonates in a riot of splendor as Shep and I watch the violent assault in the heavens with awe. The grand finale comes and goes, and soon everyone is sending the bride and groom off with air kisses and well wishes.

  “Oh no.” My fingers tap over my lips. It’s only then I realize I’ve lost my ride, and just as I turn to try to find Lex, I smack
into a body—the exact body I’ve instructed myself to avoid for the rest of the night—for life if I know what’s good for both me and my West Virginia. This boy—man—my God, Sunday was so right—looks ready to scold, bed, wed, trash, thrash, lust, and thrust his way through life.

  “What’s the matter?” His cheek pinches to the side as he offers that obnoxious grin, his lids hooded low as if he were expertly conducting a takedown of my imaginary cupcake fort. “Did you just remember that you’re not the one getting down and dirty with Seth Baker tonight?”

  I can’t help but scoff at him. It never ends with Shep. “I’m more of an Eli Gates’ kind of a girl.” Lies. But judging by that look on his face, I just struck every live and raw nerve in his body. His lips press white, and the muscles in his jaw redefine themselves. “I drove up with Sunday and Seth, so I just lost my ride.” I crane my neck past him looking for Lex. “I guess if Eli wants to give me a ride tonight, who am I to say no? I might even let him drive me off this mountain first.” I glance up at Shep, my lips widening with a devious smile. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. My God, I’ve just discovered where Shep keeps his big red panic button, and it just so happens to have Eli’s face on it. If I didn’t know better, good old Shepherd Pie is stone-cold jealous.

  “You won’t need a ride from Eli Gates,” Shep says it without a smile, the hint of smoldering contempt layered underneath his tone.

  “Oh? Do you suggest I hoof it?”

  “No.” He threads his arm through mine. “You’re coming home with me.”

  The drive back to Hollow Brook is swift and without pretense. There’s an undeniable current in the air, and if we’re not careful, one wayward spark will send this entire car up in flames, taking us both down in the most indelicate way.

  No sooner do we get into his rental house than I make a beeline for the kitchen, and don’t think for a minute I’m not relishing that look of quasi-disappointment on his face.

  “My, my, presumptuous, are we? I do believe that sour puss you’re wearing suggests you would have much rather I made a right at the hall, to say—far more coital pastures—as in the bedroom?”

  His lids slit to nothing as he sidesteps toward the refrigerator. “I was thinking no such thing.” He pulls out a bag of sliced bread and waves it at me. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwich? If I recall, that was your favorite right before you took a nap.”

  “I was not napping at fourteen.” Okay, so I might have been napping the three years prior to that, and maybe Shep was around a time or two to witness the event, but that was Lex’s fault for hosting so many damn house parties at our place. “And no thank you. I much prefer a nightcap of a different variety these days.” I pull the whiskey and honey forward, plucking a couple of glasses from the cabinet before he can stop me. I mix us both a sweet and sour concoction, sure to delight and numb a few senses.

  He takes an easy gulp while I pant through mine as if I were in labor.

  “Are you sold on this one?” He mock-toasts me as he knocks it back.

  “Not really. It’s not special enough. I guess I could always head down to the gym and ask Belinda for the recipe.” I bite down on my lip while taking him in. “There’s just something about hot honey that just sounds sinfully delicious.” I take a bold step toward this man—this god, this man-god, and run his tie between my fingers in one cool erotic motion. “I’m starting to feel the burn, Shep.” I lean in dangerously close to those magic lips and lock my gaze over his. “Do you feel it?”

  His jaw does that thing again where his muscles tense, and it gives off a ridiculously sexy alpha male vibe that makes my thighs quiver on cue. I’ve always been unnaturally attracted to Shep Collins. I’m not sure if I would ever admit that out loud, but if Shep makes a move to land me horizontal, I’m not exactly going to fight him on it. In fact, I’m doing my best to signal it’s all clear up ahead. I am one big green light. Come on, Shep. I give his tie a little tug, wrapping my wrist around it as I pull him in. I’m not fourteen anymore. It’s time to play in the big leagues.

  Shep takes a breath, his chest expanding so wide it brushes up against my own. His lip twitches as if he’s fighting a smile, a frown, something in between.

  A hard groan comes from me. “For the love of all things good and evil, just give me a sign one way or another already. West Virginia is in the middle of a downpour, and if you’re not going to slip in for a visit, I need to hit the nearest frat house and find someone who is.” Okay, just for clarification, there’s no way I’d pull a Sunday. I’m all for walking on the wild side, but launching into a one-nighter with some toasted frat boy who more than likely won’t be able to find the right orifice isn’t my idea of a good time. I only said those things because I didn’t think Shep would actually reject me.

  Oh my holy God.

  I take in a sharp breath, and my eyes enlarge to the size of those condoms that we’re clearly never going to get around to breaking in.

  He’s rejecting me. All the teasing and flattery, the sexual chemistry—I had imagined the entire thing.

  My eyes close briefly as the blow-up vixen in me quickly deflates.

  Kill me.

  I blink up at him, my face heating to unsafe levels. I’ve seen those eerie documentaries where people spontaneously combust for no reason and burn the entire house down in the process, and if I don’t leave now, I’m afraid I’ll be putting Shep’s nice rental in jeopardy.

  My fingers glide down his tie one last time, and just before I let go, Shep snaps me up by the wrist.

  Those gloriously blue Irish eyes smile at me all on their own. A dirty grin glides over his face, and he exhales as if steeling his resolve.

  “Are you okay with this?” His eyes ride over my body, scorching hot, searing my flesh without the benefit of a single touch.

  “Yes,” I whisper so low I practically mouth the word. “Do you want me?” My stomach explodes in a vat of acid. Of all the desperate questions a girl can ask. I’m pretty sure if you don’t know the answer to that then you have no business surrendering your West Virginia for the very first time, because indeed my Virginia is a virgin territory, but I don’t dare breathe a word of it to Shep.

  Shep glides his arm around my waist and pulls me in hard, his eyes still drilling into mine. “Hell yes.” Our lips collide with fierce determination as Shep presses me close aggressively, his hands quickly roaming up my back, his fingers digging into my hair. A lightning jag of electricity pumps from his body into mine and I feel ridiculously faint, weak at the knees and dizzy beyond comprehension. This is Shepherd Collins with his lips pressed up against mine. Shep—my Shep—the one that vexed me just as much as he enchanted me for all those years. This moment feels frozen in time, already sealed in the time capsule of my mind as one of the greatest. Confession: I have dreamed of doing just this, many, many times before. And now here it is, the dream made real.

  Shep walks us backward, navigating us with blind knowledge, our lips never leaving one another. A ferocious groan works its way up his throat as he takes a moment to pause and pull back with those drugged eyes, his lips red from the assault of my own.

  “Last chance to get off the train.” He swallows hard, his hand riding over my hip and down my bare thigh.

  “Hell no. I’m not getting off the train. In fact”—I snatch my purse off the floor where I had abandoned it just a few moments ago—“I’ve got a little surprise for you courtesy of that raunchy roommate of mine.” I pluck the masks out of the bag so fast Shep’s mouth falls open at the sight.

  He snatches the black hood for himself, and a dark chuckle drums in his chest. “Return of the Peacock Princess and the Masked Man.” A dangerous smile expands on his lips.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any rope lying around, would you?”

  Shep loosens his tie aggressively until it comes undone. “I’ve got something that will work just fine.”

  Then he’s on me again with those heated kisses. Shep’s tongue w
orks me over until it feels as if my mouth goes numb from the pleasure of it all. He leads me blindly to his bedroom and flicks on the light, landing us onto the cool comforter of his bed, a white duvet filled with down feathers—so not what I pictured his chamber of lust to look like. Shep carefully pulls my dress over my head and lands it gently to the floor, his eyes stuck on mine—and props to him, considering that strapless number he just plucked off had a built-in shelf bra. And now that the girls are free, I’m ten times more electrified than I was before. His eyes drift down my torso, and his lips rise on the sides with approval. I take his warm, thick hands and lead them over my body, encouraging him to explore all of my newly exposed places and he does.

  The heat builds between us like a furnace, and I pull him in by the back of the neck, diving my mouth back over his where it belongs. The scent of his skin, the whiskey, that heady cologne of his sets my skin on fire with lust and wanting. My fingers get to work, fiddling with those stubborn buttons, evicting his shirt, unbuckling his belt, yanking open his pants, and I stop abruptly.

  “I don’t want to see your face,” I pant, hardly able to contain my excitement. In record time, Shep has his hood in place, and I my feathers—and before you can say beg, borrow, or steal, he has my hands roped behind my back and attached to the bedpost with his tie. Something in me knew that a deviant like Shep had a post at the edge of his bed to secure his prey. If I had to guess, this was definitely not his first triple-X rodeo.

  His kisses soften just a bit. He’s doing something with his arm, slapping the nightstand, opening drawers, and then it hits me.

  OH MY GOD, HE’S GOING FOR A CONDOM! This just hit DEFCON 1.

  Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Now what? Now West Virginia pays for my foray into whiskey and organic raw honey. Damn those bitter brides for showing up and ushering me into an era of murder and S and M. Wait a minute…

  Shep cups my cheeks sweetly in his palms and kisses me tenderly, so very sweetly I moan from the pleasure of it. This right here is what that darn drink should taste like. Shep and his hot honey kisses are enough to drive traffic to any licensed liquor establishment. But right now, I don’t want to share an ounce of this man. He’s all mine, and in a few moments, I’ll be all his in ways I never expected.