“I do plan on that,” he said.
Lila couldn’t believe that she’d actually broached the subject of a long-term—as in permanent—relationship, even in a teasing way. The words fell out of her mouth easily, and Lila didn’t regret them once they were gone. Nor had Bo flinched when she’d said them. In fact, he’d one-upped her when it came to the layered meaning of their taunts.
Bo was unlike any man she’d ever met—so passionate about his life, his work, and her. A few guys had asked her out since she’d become a widow, but she’d turned them all down. Maybe she’d been waiting on Bo, and he’d been waiting on her. Had the months of arguing and disagreeing just been one extended act of foreplay? With the benefit of hindsight, it certainly seemed as though that had been the situation.
The food was wonderful, no surprises there. Bo ordered a very large steak and Lila had salmon. For dessert, she had a pear tart and Bo had another glass of Garnet, which prompted Lila to insist that she would be driving them back to her house.
“And don’t drink too much,” she scolded. “The night is young and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be nodding off early.”
Bo put down his half-finished glass of bourbon.
“Hate to see it go to waste, but it’s for a good cause.”
Once they arrived back at her house, they barely got the front door closed behind them and coats off before they were in each other’s arms.
“Next time,” Bo said as his lips hovered above Lila’s neck, “I think we need to eat in.”
“Agreed,” she said breathlessly while Bo drew small circles with his tongue just beneath her ear.
Bo picked Lila up and ran up the stairs two at a time to her bedroom. She tucked her head into his shoulder and laughed, feeling silly, but also relishing the feeling of being whisked away to her bedroom by her lover. He carefully deposited her on the bed, but that was the end of politeness. Once she was prone and beneath him, Bo immediately moved his hand under her dress and along her leg, then choked a little and gaped at her.
“Surprise,” she whispered, and giggled as she delighted in the shock on his face.
She wasn’t wearing any undies except for a garter belt to hold up her stockings.
“I’ll say,” he gasped.
“I take it you approve of my attire,” she said, a smile on her lips.
“I approve of the lack of your attire,” he corrected her, and moved his hands to her wet folds.
“Bo…” she gasped as he explored her further and slipped one, two, and then three fingers into her in rapid succession while keeping a thumb on her clit. Within seconds she was completely under his control and insistently grinding her hips against his hand. She quickly moved toward her climax, with Bo hastening her ecstasy by moving his thumb in circles on her nub, causing her to spread her legs wide and arch her back high off the bed. Her hips moved frantically against his fingers and as her breaths came in shorter bursts, she started to feel the small twitch of pleasure blossom inside her in multiple spasms. Lila cried out, and her wetness clenched around his fingers hard and repeatedly as he kept up the pressure on her clit. Her hips and ass lifted off the bed as she drove against Bo’s large, roughened hand.
“Damn,” she whispered as she came down from her peak and collapsed onto the bed.
Bo moved off the bed and stripped as Lila rested and recovered from what she hoped would be only her first orgasm of the evening. Naked, he crawled into bed next to her, threw some condoms on the bedside table, and began to help her remove her clothing, tossing her dress, bra, stockings, and garter belt at the foot of the bed.
“That’s better,” he said approvingly, his hand gliding along the side of her body as they lay side-by-side.
Driven by intense mutual need, neither needed much in the way of preliminary touches or caresses, and soon Lila was rolling a condom along Bo’s length. He stroked her once before plunging into her, taking her quickly and drowning her sharp gasp of surprise with a kiss. For a few seconds they were still, and she relished the feeling of connection and belonging. When Lila finally moved to wrap her legs around him, Bo’s desire was unleashed and he moved hard and deep into her.
He slackened his sensual rhythm and she sensed he was near, and Lila slowed the thrusts of her own hips as she recognized Bo’s warning. He then slipped in and out of her in gentle, shallow strokes, and she was undone. Lila came hard, and then Bo claimed his own pleasure with one deep thrust. Trembling, he rolled to her side and kissed her shoulder, whereupon they both fell asleep until Bo departed briefly for the bathroom. When he returned and stood by the bed, she was awake yet drowsy and he rubbed the pad of his thumb across her cheek.
“How about some Garnet?” he asked.
“You’re still mourning the last half of that drink you left at The Cooperage, aren’t you?” she taunted, and sat up on her elbows, the sheet draped across her hips and her chest left bare.
He nodded sheepishly. “Can’t get bourbon out of my mind for very long, I’m afraid,” he said, and offered her his hands. He pulled her to her feet and they embraced and kissed.
“I’d think something was wrong with you if bourbon wasn’t very far from your mind,” she said, caressing his cheek and heading to the bathroom to grab her robe.
Chapter 20
Lila emerged from the bathroom and found Bo already in his pants and putting on his shirt.
“I think I prefer the shirtless and pantsless look for you myself,” she said, leaving the bedroom and not turning around, even as Bo laughed at her quip.
Once in the kitchen, Lila went straight to the cabinet where she kept her bottle of Old Garnet and found the cupboard bare.
“What the—”
She moved aside an old bottle of vodka, knowing nothing was behind it but still searching for the bourbon that she knew should be there.
“Looking for this?”
Lila spun about and saw Bo standing at the entrance to the kitchen, holding a new bottle of Old Garnet.
“Where’s the old one?” she asked, and walked to Bo to take the bottle from him.
“I finished it off one night down here alone,” he admitted, and handed her the bourbon. “You were asleep. I had the munchies and came down. Found some biscuits in your fridge and polished off the bourbon.”
“Bourbon and biscuits? That might just be the most perfect Kentucky late-night snack I’ve ever heard of,” she said, laughing, and moving back to the counter. Lila put the new bottle down as she retrieved some glasses for them. “You want to pour?” she asked, holding up the bottle.
“No, but please let me open it,” he requested.
Smiling, Lila returned the bottle to him and Bo unwound the tight foil-and-paper seal at the top, then extracted the wood-and-cork stopper, producing a very satisfying pop. He took the stopper and sniffed it, then brought the bottle to his nose and did the same.
“You look like you did in the tasting room,” Lila said, and Bo opened his eyes.
“What did I look like?”
“Like you were praying when you nosed the bourbon.”
He laughed and put the bottle down. “I guess appreciating what I have is a form of praying.”
Lila poured, replaced the stopper, and they retired to the front sitting room and sat on the couch together.
“Mmmm,” Lila purred after she’d taken a sip of her bourbon, which was mixed with water and over ice while Bo drank his neat, as he’d done at dinner. “I really should stick with this instead of wine from now on.”
“Excellent taste, ma’am,” Bo said, raising his glass to her, and then sipped.
Much like she had in the tasting room, Lila watched Bo as he drank. Even though they were together in much more intimate circumstances and a setting where he should be relaxed, she noted a tenseness in his face as he sipped. Bo’s eyes were fixed on the surface of his drink, rather than upon her, the almost-naked woman drinking bourbon sitting right next to him and with whom he’d just had an intense emotional and sexual exper
ience.
“Hello?” she asked, and waved a hand in front of his face. “Looks like you’re off on Planet Bourbon.”
Instead of snapping him from his trance, he barely smiled. “Sounds like a nice place to be.”
“Is it if you’re there alone?” she asked, now irritated.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Thinking too much.”
“And the subject is apparent,” Lila said, and nodded toward the glass Bo held in his hands.
Bo retreated into his worried form, and Lila said nothing for a few moments, allowing a growing sense of unease to expand between them.
“I want to talk to you about Old Garnet, as risky as that is,” he finally said in one long breath. “I want us to be able to talk about our problems, our concerns.” He finally looked at her and put a hand on her knee on top of her robe.
“You’re right that we should be able to talk about those things, but you’re also right that it’s risky,” she said, suddenly wishing they’d never left the warm confines of her comfy bed.
“We’ve got to talk,” he said. “I can’t keep this inside, what I’m about to say and ask.”
“Bo, we shouldn’t go near the subject of the distillery.”
“How can we avoid it? It’s my work, my life,” he said, and she sensed the hurt in his voice.
“And the thing that has caused us problems.”
“Yet brought us together,” he pointed out, taking a quick sip from his glass before turning around to place it on an end table.
“The power to destroy as well as create,” she acknowledged in a tired voice. She handed her drink to him to place next to his on the table.
Turning back to her, he took her hands. “I guess there’s good news and bad news I want to share.”
“Out with them both,” Lila said, and gripped his hands. “Is there a problem with the insurance?” She strongly suspected that was what was on his mind that night. Bo had mentioned to her several times the negotiations Hannah was having with the insurer, and she knew he had been worried.
“Hannah says we’ll have the money to replace the burned rickhouse, although it will be a bit smaller than the burned one,” he said. “Our insurer was giving us pushback at first on the amount of our claim, and I’m still not confident we’ll get what we’ll need. But Hannah is insistent that all will be well. I hope she’s right.”
“I’d say trust your sister and stop your worrying. She’s the lawyer. And that’s great!” Lila exclaimed. “So what’s the cloud on the horizon?”
“It’s still not enough.”
“What? I thought you just said the money will be there.”
“I meant it won’t be enough room. We still need more space,” he said. “That’s the bad news.”
Lila’s grip slackened. “Oh, I see.” She watched as his face twitched, and she knew what he was about to say. “Don’t say it. Don’t ask me,” she said, and removed her hands from his once he voiced no confusion at her warning.
“I have to,” he said as she turned away from him. “I can’t think of anything else to do, Lila, you know that.”
“How about not ask?” she said, and stood abruptly. “How about learn to live with it? How about build rickhouses elsewhere? How about respect my decision that I will never sell you the land you want?”
Bo stood, looking pained yet determined. “We can do this, Lila, I know it. We can agree. Before, we were at each other’s throats most of the time, we could barely talk. Now that things are different, can’t we talk about it and—”
“We can’t be talking about it at all!” she cried, and moved away from him and toward the front windows, which afforded no view except the blackness of midwinter’s night.
“Why can’t we do this?” he asked, and she heard anger and hurt in equal measure in his question. “Things have changed.”
“What things have changed?” she challenged him, turning from the window.
“Well, for starters, I think that falling in love with each other would be at the top of the list.”
“That doesn’t make everything magically different, Bo,” she snapped. “The case and the dispute remain.”
“You mean you won’t even talk about this?”
“No, I won’t. I’ve told you repeatedly that I won’t, and our attorneys have told us not to do this. And I told you before we got into this argument I didn’t want to talk!” Bo threw up his arms in a gesture of exasperation, but Lila wasn’t open to taking any level of blame for his consternation. He’d brought this on himself. “Why does this feel like we’re back at the distillery? This is starting to turn into the same kind of arguments we always had before you sued me.”
“Hey! We sued each other, remember?” he shot back.
“You started this! You went first!”
“And I wanted to walk away and you wouldn’t let me!”
Lila swallowed hard and tried to still her breathing and prevent her unshed tears from gushing forth. This was their first real argument; she should’ve expected it would be over the land. No simple arguments for them about where to go to eat or some minor faux pas or hurt feelings. Nothing so easy for two people who were so stubborn that the evidence of their obstinacy was on display in a public record in the Craig County Courthouse.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and joined her near the window. Bo gripped her upper arms and tried to get her to look at him, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “We can work this out, but we have to talk about it.”
Furious, she threw off his hands and walked to the other side of the room. “We’re better off now letting the case proceed rather than risk this kind of argument, Bo! How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to talk and I don’t want to sell? You’re not respecting my decisions!” she shouted at him, and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Her feet were cold against the bare hardwood floor of the old house, and from some unknown crack or crevasse she felt a draft against her cheek.
“And you can’t open yourself to the possibility that we could do this! So you won’t even do this for me? Not even talk about—”
“Hold on there,” she said, putting her hand out and taking a small step toward him. “What does that mean? For you?”
His mouth opened a little, and she saw at once he was confused. “Yes,” he said haltingly, “to try to get through this with the man who’s in love with you and the man you told—”
“Oh, I get it,” she said, nodding, “I’m supposed to give in because I love you and you love me? Like I’m supposed to make the sacrifice here just because you ask?” she asked, and actually snorted in disgust. “You’re awfully entitled, aren’t you, Bo Davenport?”
“What the hell does that mean? I thought that two people in love might be able to talk and act like adults!”
“Yeah, I did, too. But it seems I was mistaken,” she said, and walked across the room to snatch her drink from the table, suddenly craving the spirit in the glass and hoping it would revive her own. She took a long sip and stared down at her drink as much as Bo had done to his before their argument.
“Can you just hear me out?”
“No!” she cried immediately, livid that he continued to press the issue.
Suddenly the drink in her hand felt like some kind of weighted ball and chain, a tether to a problem, a burden to bear. The scent of the bourbon sickened her, as it had on the night of the rickhouse fire, and she could not understand why this simple substance had such power over them—that power to destroy and create she had mocked. Fear burned inside her, fueled by her still-simmering anger at him for continuing to push her despite her clearly-stated preferences for not talking about the land dispute.
Had this been his plan all along this evening? Soften her up with a nice meal at the best place in town, followed by a mind-blowing roll in the hay, and then ply her with a tasty sip or more from a brand-new bottle of bourbon?
“Was this little failed bit of persuasion why you wanted to come down here inste
ad of staying upstairs?” she snapped. Lila moved toward him until they were just a few feet apart, and was as angry as she could ever remember being in her entire life. “Didn’t think it would go over so well to bring up the land issue in the very bed where you’d fucked me?”
Bo gaped and choked. “I can’t believe you’d think that of me,” he said in a strained voice.
“Really?” she asked, advancing on him. “What am I supposed to think when a man thinks he’s entitled to something I’ve repeatedly told him I will not give and then uses the fact that I’m in love with him as leverage—” she said, and choked, unable to finish. The tears, held back so long by fury, finally streamed down her face as Lila struggled not to speak but to breathe.
“I would never try to manipulate you like that,” he pleaded, and she saw the tears on his own face.
“You just did,” she said, turning away and walking to the window. “Can’t you see that?”
Bo slowly approached her, but she refused to look at him, and continued to stare into the nothingness of the winter night through the window. She felt the cold emanating from the surface of the panes, and the chill matched the hardness that had settled in her heart. It was time to withdraw, to retreat, to protect herself. Lila remembered how Bo had told her that when it got really cold, the staves of a barrel would contract, expelling the bourbon save for small amounts still trapped in the wood. That’s how she felt: used, marked, and changed by the love she had for him, yet unable to give him what he thought he needed to be complete and what he apparently thought she owed him.
“Lila,” Bo said softly, and touched her elbow.
Her arms were wrapped tightly across her chest and she did nothing to acknowledge his touch. Still unwilling and unable to look at him, she turned more toward the window and away from him.
“You need to leave,” she said.
“Please—”
Angels' Share (Bourbon Springs Book 3) Page 19