Distiller's Choice (Bourbon Springs Book 4)

by Bramseth, Jennifer

  “Then that means I get to do the same when you take your clothes off,” he said, stripping away his boxers.

  She raked her eyes over his nakedness. “You’re assuming I’ll do that.”

  Walker grabbed her and pulled her into a very long, deep kiss, holding CiCi to him tightly. She could not resist grinding her hips against him as she felt his hardness against her stomach and wished that her clothes could dissolve, leaving nothing between them.

  He pulled away first, leaving her dazed from the kiss and not the lingering bourbon buzz.

  “I think I’m correct in my assumption I’ll see you part with those clothes.” He turned and scrambled down the embankment toward the water.

  “Be careful!” she exhorted as he picked over the rocks.

  “Nothing to be scared of.” He dipped a toe in the water. “Much warmer than I’d thought. I bet that spring over there,” Walker said, pointing to the far bank, “is thermal heated.”

  She watched his backside—a really nice view—as Walker gingerly moved into the water. He held his arms out to the side to balance himself as the water crept up his body, until he was standing up to his waist, then he turned around. So much for the view—front or back—although he did look damned sexy standing there with his bare chest revealed to her.

  His arms rested lightly atop the water, and he looked expectantly at her. “Your turn.”

  She slowly removed her shirt, then her capris, until she was standing only in her bra and panties—another thong. Walker smiled broadly when he spotted her choice of undies.

  She snapped the elastic on the thong for his amusement. “You owe me one of these after destroying my pink one the other night.”

  “I’ve got another idea about how I’d like to make restitution.”

  CiCi laughed and easily removed her bra, letting it fall to the ground. But instead of peeling off her thong, she stood staring at Walker, who looked mesmerized by the vision of her on the bank. A low crescent moon provided a little light, and the dimness somehow heightened the sexual tension between them. CiCi knew he was getting antsy, and she decided to increase his restlessness by giving him some payback for the kiss that had gotten her so worked up before he got into the creek.

  She moved her left hand to her left breast and began to rub her nipple between her thumb and forefinger as her right hand pushed aside the fabric of her thong. Her forefinger found her clit and CiCi rubbed herself in circles as she began to moan, making sure that Walker could hear as well as see her.

  His right hand plunged beneath the water, and she knew he had found his length. The water rippled around him as he pumped himself, and she slipped a finger inside herself as Walker’s hand moved faster. He came quick and hard, gasping her name as he reached his release. After his climax, Walker moved to the edge of the water to steady himself against a fallen tree branch, and CiCi stopped her self-touch to remove her thong and walk to the bank to check on him.

  She smiled. “Did you like the show?”

  “Get down here,” he growled.

  “I suppose you’ve warmed up the water for me.”

  “Come find out for yourself.”

  CiCi moved to her left and to the point where Walker had entered the water. He waded out of the creek until it only hit at his knees, and she took his proffered hand. CiCi looked at his exposed torso and saw Walker was starting to get hard again.

  “Lucky me,” she whispered to herself and slowly slipped into the warm water.

  But Walker wasn’t interested in moving slowly. He pulled her into the creek, causing CiCi to fall into the water up to her neck and thrash her arms wildly to prevent her head from going under.

  “Hey!” she said once she had righted herself. She splashed him, and he turned away, laughing. “That wasn’t nice!”

  The water hit just above her breasts, and Walker was standing a few yards away, smiling as she brushed wet hair from her face. Gingerly, her feet explored the creek bed, discerning a mixture of rock, mud, sand, and plants as she held her arms out to steady herself against the current flowing from the nearby waterfall. Walker reached for her, but CiCi hurled herself into the creek, trying to play keep-away. Yet her lover was too strong and agile for her. She hadn’t gotten far before Walker grabbed her ankle and yanked her backward and into his waiting arms.

  “I’m a good swimmer,” he told her before bringing his lips to hers.

  CiCi had never been skinny dipping, although she’d taken a shower or two with her ex-husband.

  Boy, had she been missing out!

  Being naked in the creek with Walker was the perfectly consuming and sensual experience. The surprisingly warm water softly enveloped her, the waterfall crashed and drowned her moans of pleasure as he kissed her, and the feel of his body against hers with the slight sense of weightlessness afforded by the water made her feel as though she was in a wonderful erotic dream. Her bourbon buzz had completely worn off, and like the first night they had made love, CiCi felt intoxicated by desire rather than alcohol.

  She easily wrapped her legs around his waist, and he held her in place by putting his arms underneath her rear and thighs. His fingers brushed along her folds, and CiCi wiggled her hips over his teasing hand, a begging little gesture for more, but he denied her the pleasure of a slender digit in her core. When she whimpered, he relented by taking his forefinger and giving her clit some special attention.

  His movements were maddening and torturous; CiCi tried to grind against Walker’s hand, but he would pull away just as she thrust against him. He moved his mouth to her neck and was positioning himself to enter her when he pulled away, looking alarmed.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “I’m not… we don’t…”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointed but realizing their oversight. “Well… I’m…,” she stuttered and kept her arms around his neck.

  This wasn’t when she wanted to have this conversation. Maybe her failure to prepare for this moment was a form of denial.

  But she couldn’t deny or ignore her circumstances now that she’d fallen in love with Walker and was starting to regularly have sex with him (regularly referring to the frequency, not necessarily the location of their lovemaking).

  “I’m on the pill,” she blurted. “And I’ll tell you why.” She feared her bluntness had irrevocably shattered the mood, but Walker’s reaction was quiet acceptance.

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” he said, stroking her cheek with his forefinger, “and you certainly don’t need to tell me your reasons if you’re uncomfortable doing so.”

  “And that’s all the more reason to tell you,” she insisted. “Look at us. We’re in the middle of a creek, naked, no condom. I take the pill because of a condition I have—endometriosis. It helps with the pain and complications of it. I’ve had it for years, although it’s more under control lately than it has been, thank goodness. I can go through good stretches and bad stretches. But lately, I’ve been mostly good.”

  Walker gently stroked her back. “I’ve heard of that. It’s painful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” She dropped her head. “But it’s more than just physical pain.” Walker put his hand on her face, which forced CiCi to look at him. “I don’t know for sure because I’ve never actually tried, but I probably won’t ever be able to get pregnant—so you don’t have to worry about that if we don’t use a condom tonight. I mean, I’ve been tested and don’t have—I’ve only been with a handful of men my whole life and—”

  She was babbling, scared, and confused, and Walker kissed her. The fear and doubt running through her mind and out of her mouth momentarily came to a halt.

  “CiCi, if you trust me enough to share something so personal, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. And I trust you.”

  “Then please make love to me,” she whispered. “Now.”

  He reached beneath the water and slipped inside her. Walker held her to him, his hands beneath her thighs as CiCi’s legs gripped his waist and she clenched around his lengt
h with no barrier between them.

  “Never done it like this,” she giggled, “in the water.”

  “Me neither,” he admitted, and she could’ve sworn she saw the man blush, despite their most intimate of conditions.

  They kissed, clutching, holding, clinging, and exploring each other’s body. But when Walker tried to move inside her, the movement of the water provided no perch against which he could strain for their mutual pleasure. They stopped kissing and looked about for a solution to their erotic dilemma.

  “How about there?” he said, nodding toward a large boulder lining the opposite bank from where they’d entered the creek.

  “Doesn’t look very soft.”

  “But smoother than the exterior wall of the distillery,” he countered, trailing his fingers up and down her spine.

  His light touch had her mildly desperate, and she readily agreed to his plan as she tightened her legs around him. Walker moved through the creek, kissing and carrying her against the rush of water until they reached the rock. He eased her against the stone, which was smooth and cool along her back. He stopped as though to assess her comfort, but she assured him with a nod that all was well.

  He moved maddeningly slowly even as she ground against him. They’d been in the creek for a while, playing, stroking, and kissing, and CiCi needed more. He finally increased his rhythm, and brought his lips to her neck while he moved a forefinger to her clit where he gently teased and stroked.

  CiCi trembled and moaned, nearly overcome with sensation and the weight of history and meaning. They were making love in the very spot where the Old Garnet legend began. A legend with its origin in love.

  Her head fell back against the rock. A sky full of stars tilted and winked above her, and then the only thing she became aware of was Walker, his rough breaths coming in closer succession. He came, calling her name, and she quickly followed. It was the sound of his voice that pushed her over the edge, her climax ripping through her as the water rippled away from them.

  Panting, trembling, they held each other without looking at the other. Even though the lovemaking they’d previously enjoyed had been more physically satisfying, those joinings had been more driven by lust than love.

  But this coupling in this place after her revelation to him was the most emotionally fulfilling thing CiCi had ever experienced. She began to cry.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re hurt,” he whispered against her cheek, then pulled back to look at her. As he did so, she felt him slipping out of her body, and she clung to him, keeping him inside her.

  “Not hurt,” she said, blinking the tears away and smiling. She put her hands on the back of his head. “I’m perfect. I’m complete. I’m home.”

  Walker kissed her, and CiCi felt the tears on his face mingle with her own as the waters of Old Crow Creek flowed around their still-joined bodies.

  Chapter 20

  The BourbonDaze festival had been a Bourbon Springs tradition for over fifty years. Held on the last weekend before the Memorial Day holiday, it was the town’s big local event and was widely known throughout bourbon country as something that should not be missed. The event had originally started out as a small showcase for Old Garnet Distillery, with a parade, bourbon tastings, and a few baking contests. For the first half of its existence, the event was known as BourbonDays but was changed to the more edgy and hip BourbonDaze to make it more distinct and just a little tongue-in-cheek.

  Main Street in Bourbon Springs was closed starting Friday morning through late Saturday night, resulting in several offices closing during that time, although businesses stayed open for the extra foot traffic. Friday was supposedly the one day of the year that Over a Barrel sold the most bourbon balls. Those in the know got there early and didn’t wait until Saturday to buy the treats since the deli was usually sold out by noon that day. There was a pervasive holiday atmosphere, and the courthouse and school system were both closed on Friday of the festival.

  Having Friday off, however, didn’t mean CiCi could rest. That day found her flitting from booth to booth and vendor to vendor, making sure that all was well and (if possible) that people were happy. In addition to checking on the booths, she had to inspect the sound system on the stage in the park two blocks south of the courthouse. Besides the obvious bourbon theme, BourbonDaze was known for its Bluegrass music concert and attracted several well-known acts which played throughout the festival. Mack Blanton, a former local schoolteacher and recent winner of The Big Sing Thing—Nashville Edition, was scheduled to play that evening; the committee considered landing him as a headliner to be a major publicity coup. CiCi had successfully prevailed upon a friend of his, Pepper Montrose, his former schoolteacher colleague, to persuade him to return home for one evening and away from the bright lights of Nashville.

  CiCi’s Saturday played out much the same way, with her running checks on booths, vendors, and concert preparations along with her fellow BourbonDaze Committee members, including Walker. Since there was so much ground to cover, however, they didn’t get to spend any time together and simply smiled to each other whenever their paths happened to cross.

  After making her rounds through the streets of Bourbon Springs and finding only minor disasters which she managed to resolve, CiCi finally headed for the history booth to sit and maybe take the time to actually eat some lunch. She was sweating profusely in her official BourbonDaze committee member polo. The shirt was a light shade of brown to evoke the hue of bourbon, and featured dark red embroidered lettering as a nod to Old Garnet. Although the color favored CiCi’s complexion, it was still damned hot and she wished the polo were a lighter color such as white, pink, or even yellow. The brown soaked up every particle of sunlight from the bright Kentucky sky, making CiCi feel like a baked potato blistering in the sun. She’d had to wash the damned thing last night; she’d worn it all day yesterday as well, and it was expected that committee members wear their shirts throughout the entire festival.

  Lila was at the history booth with several of the students, all of whom were excitedly chatting with festivalgoers about the history of bourbon, Bourbon Springs, and Old Garnet. The booth had been strategically positioned so that most of the attendees would arrive at the history booth before moving on to the other booths down the street near the park, which was the best location for foot traffic. In the park were the larger booths—tents, really—of several major distilleries, including Old Garnet, which always had the largest display, housed in a large red tent. People could pick up little souvenirs at these places, such as magnets and pencils, but also get brochures about the distilleries, which included information about site tours and products. No alcohol was offered at these spots, but there was a bourbon garden on the southern side of the park, with tastings and cocktails offered by every distillery present. People were carded on their way in and charged for drinks.

  “Want me to go get you something to eat?” Lila offered. “I need to go up to the Old Garnet tent to check on Bo and Hannah.”

  CiCi thanked her, gave her some money for a sandwich and drink, and told her to take her time.

  “I will not,” Lila said. “You’re thirsty and starving. I’ll get back as soon as I can. The only reason I’m going to see Bo is because he wanted me there as a new face of Old Garnet or something like that,” she said with amusement in her voice and a wave of her hand. “Wants me to talk about the brand, the history. I’ve already done three lectures on that at the distillery this week!”

  “But you are a new face, Lila. You’re a part owner and about to marry into the family. Time to buy into the whole Old Garnet mythology thing, don’t you think?”

  “I guess so,” Lila said, laughing.

  “Good,” CiCi said. “I wouldn’t want to hear that you didn’t believe the Old Garnet creation story—you know, the brooch at the ball?”

  “I want to believe that one’s true, even if I can’t find confirmation for it. And I even believe in angels in the rickhouses, if you want the honest truth.”


  Lila left CiCi alone in the booth with the kids, who were far beyond needing help from any chaperone or other authority figure. She took the chance to sit in the back of the booth near the curtain which formed the back of the structure and checked her phone.

  She had a message from Walker.

  Lunch?

  She cringed, wishing she’d seen the message before sending Lila away with a lunch request.

  Eating in booth. Join me? she texted back, and waited.

  On my way.

  She was immediately giddy, but within seconds the smile was wiped off her face by the next text.

  Jana coming with me. Sorry.

  Great.

  Due to busy schedules, they’d barely seen each other since making love in the creek. And how hot had that been?

  Anytime she thought of the waterfall, CiCi shuddered in anticipation of the next time they could be alone there; she was ready to go back whenever Walker said the word. Hell, maybe she’d make the suggestion or just tell him that’s what she wanted to do every Saturday night until Old Crow Creek got too cold and they’d have to resort to a plain old bed to make love. Nonetheless, she’d be more than happy to resort to the normalcy of a bedroom to get him alone if that’s what it took.

  Now, when she finally had a chance to grab a moment alone with Walker, his stupid ex-wife or coworker or whatever the hell Jana was to him was tagging along. Talk about three’s a crowd.

  CiCi chewed on her lips over the next few minutes, mentally calculating how long it would likely take Walker and Jana to arrive at her booth from the Old Garnet tent. She hoped Lila would soon appear with her lunch, not only because she was famished and parched but because Lila could help distract Jana. CiCi stood, went to the front of the booth, and looked south down Main Street in the direction of the Old Garnet tent.

  She saw something even better than Lila’s hoped-for imminent arrival.

  CiCi spotted Walker but the woman at his side was Hannah Davenport, followed by Bo and Lila. Lila was holding a large brown paper bag in one hand and a fountain drink in the other. Lagging behind this welcome quartet of friends were Jana and Kyle, who was in full uniform and appeared to be on duty.