He shifted his head to trail his mouth up my forearm, nipping at my wrist when he got there. Then he was leaning forward to press a feather-soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. And another to that spot below my ear that always made me tremble.
His voice was all gravel and sex when he whispered, “Knees.”
My chest jerked with an uneven breath when he placed his hand on the step below my head and pushed back enough to skim my breasts with his mouth.
Those eyes were a mesmerizing clash of blues and greens of carnal need as his mouth moved lower, and then lower again. When he reached the top of my pants, I was practically writhing beneath him. One more torturous kiss from begging him to put me out of my misery.
And then he smirked. “Starting now?”
“What?”
His answering laugh was rich and full and the sweetest sound in my world after the brutal devastation of the past couple of days.
I shoved his shoulder, a huff leaving me. “You—” A moan sounded in the back of my throat when he abruptly leaned forward and captured my mouth, the kiss rough and demanding and so telling.
“Upstairs,” he ordered even as he quickly worked through the button on my pants, fingers gripping and claiming as he pulled the material down.
I nodded and started pushing myself up a step only to find myself under him again, my laugh getting lost in the moment and everything Cayson.
Lips punishing.
Tongue teasing.
Teeth threatening to send me over the edge when we hadn’t even begun.
By the time we were undressed apart from the lace of my bra and his boxer briefs that I was pushing down, I was wound so tight, so on fire for him, I felt like I was already there. In that moment just before you fall, suspended in that abyss, waiting for the rush of pleasure to send you spiraling back to reality, to surge through your veins.
The sound that rumbled in his chest when I curled my fingers around his cock and moved up his long length was carnal. Primal.
And then his mouth was low on my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as he pushed inside me and pressed his thumb to my piercing.
And I was gone.
Shattering against him and crying out as my orgasm rocked through me.
I felt the muted laugh against my skin as he continued to work my clit. The combination of his rough, demanding movements and the pain from the steps building me up again higher and higher.
“Em,” he growled as his rhythm became more erratic. Barely slowing as he shifted so my legs wrapped around his hips, and then driving into me deeper than before until I came.
Clenching around him.
Trembling.
Mouth opened on a silent moan.
Fingers digging into his shoulders, needing something to hold on to as he fucked my fiercely, barreling closer and closer to his own release.
Then the only movements were his shuddering arms and the harsh rises and falls of his chest as he came inside me.
When his eyes opened and met mine, they were dancing with mischief. “That first one . . .”
“Hush.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk as he dipped down to kiss me softly, sensually. Lingering a moment before whispering, “I love you.”
“Forever.”
The energy around us shifted with my vow. The way he searched my eyes, staring at me with so much love and need and pain, made my chest ache for him . . . for us.
What we’d almost lost.
“Talk to me . . . always. No matter what,” he murmured, the words smoothly falling from his lips and filling my soul. “I’ll be here to ease your worries. I’ll be here to love you.”
Gratitude and love burst from me, tripping up my words and making it impossible to speak.
I pressed my mouth to his, letting the faint brushes of my lips and gentle teases of my tongue against his say what I couldn’t.
That I loved him.
I was thankful for him.
I needed him.
I would’ve waited the rest of my life for this chance with him.
The tips of his fingers moved across my shoulder and down my chest until his hand was resting above the wild pounding of my heart.
His words a breath on my lips and a claim on my soul.
“I’m here.”
“You’re useless to me.”
A humming noise sounded in the back of my throat as I dragged my attention to where Rae was standing on the opposite side of the counter, cradling the steaming hot latte I’d just made her.
Always trying to gather warmth and comfort no matter the temperature outside.
“Useless,” she repeated, eyes narrowed playfully. “You.”
“That hurts,” I said dryly. “I’m offended.”
She scoffed. “I can tell.”
The corners of my lips curled up as my stare once again returned to the large windows of Brewed.
Waiting . . . always waiting on these days that never seemed to end.
It’d been five months since Cayson had made the first two-week trip to Port Arthur. As much as I hated that time without him, we made it work. It helped that I was always at Brewed anyway.
I worked myself ragged while he was gone so sleep came quickly and easily.
When he was home, I only spent a handful of hours at the shop throughout the day—whenever they needed me most. The rest of my days and nights were filled with him.
Long stretches in the bedroom or however far into the house we made it, and even longer hours just wrapped up in each other. Talking or in silence, it didn’t matter. That time was ours, and it was everything.
The only difficulties and tensions that were able to seep through our time together revolved around his family.
The boys’ mom refused to believe everything Hunter and Cayson had revealed about their dad, and had been equally furious and devastated upon realizing the rest of the family did.
But in their learning, Beau had stopped talking to everyone—including their mom. Savannah tried to bridge the gaps for the brothers and make amends, as did Sawyer, but Cayson still struggled with them. Hunter was the only one he regularly spoke to or saw.
The others’ refusal to believe or even listen to him until I’d confirmed his story kept Cayson’s resentment for them simmering just beneath the surface. Not that he acknowledged it.
I knew he was hurting—they all were—but that family was so broken and beyond stubborn. Repairing it would take time and effort on all their parts, if it could ever be fully mended.
“He’ll be home soon,” Rae murmured, capturing my attention again.
“I know, just . . .” I sucked in a lungful of oxygen and held it for a moment before releasing it. “These days are long.”
On the days Cayson came home, he called to let me know when the helicopter bringing him in from the rig had landed. Letting me know he was on his way. But that was usually the last I heard from him until he was home.
There were times he got held up talking with someone from his crew, or traffic was terrible. Others when he’d made a detour to Beaumont to grab the rest of his stuff from his old house so he could haul it back to Amber—to my place. Our place.
There were never updates or assurances he was safe or still on his way back . . .
Just my trust in him that the only place he wanted to be was with me. That he would get home as soon as he could.
I both hated and appreciated it.
It tested and pushed my patience and insecurities while also calming and easing them. It had forced me to trust him faster than I probably would have otherwise.
I hadn’t even realized it until one of the first few trips he was making back. I’d kept looking at the windows, no doubts that he would return, just excited to see him.
Like now . . .
“Caroline Bowman is glaring at you.”
An unattractive snort left me at Rae’s singsong whisper. Letting only my eyes move, I glanced around the shop until I found her
.
If looks could kill, hers would’ve slain me before I’d known she came in.
Then again, she hadn’t been thrilled when I let her know that I knew all about how she’d blackmailed Cayson.
All while pushing her drink toward her with a broad smile plastered on my face.
She’d glanced at the drink cautiously before walking away without it. Now she only accepted coffee from the other baristas.
“She looks especially happy to see me today,” I whispered back.
Soon enough, she’d be even more thrilled.
“I’m writing a character based off of her,” Rae said, tone still low enough it wouldn’t carry. “Totally psychotic. It’s fantastic.”
My shoulders shook with the laugh I tried to keep in. “It’ll probably be my favorite yet.”
Rae turned a little so she could lean against the counter, her eyes narrowing mischievously. “We’ll see about that.” Before I could question that, she asked, “So, what do I do?”
“About Caroline’s psychotic character?”
Her expression dropped. “No, about what I was telling you.”
“You were talking? Ow,” I bit out when she smacked my shoulder. “Don’t be rude!”
She curled her hand around her mug again, keeping her glare on me for a few seconds longer before deflating. “Sawyer keeps bringing up getting married.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Exasperation bled from her. “Of course you do.”
“He hasn’t outright asked you,” I offered, trying to gauge her nervousness that kept overwhelming everything else. My own worry for her and my best friend seeping in as I did. “But would it be so bad if he did? Y’all have been together for almost a year.”
“It just . . .” She gave a weak shrug. “Marriage was always such a hard pass for me. The idea of it was almost more terrifying than falling in love because it could trap you with someone.”
“You feel trapped with Sawyer?”
“No,” she said quickly. One of her hands moving erratically and the words coming faster as she continued. “No, of course not. But those vows change people. They change everything. And I want to be with him forever—I only want to be with him. I just don’t understand why we have to get married to do that. Falling in love with him was already so terrifying, but loving someone is your heart. It’s your soul. Marriage is a commitment that’s confining and destroying. And, and, and, I just—why does he need this? Why can’t it just be the two of us forever, and that be enough?”
I stared at her, lips parted as I tried to absorb her rambling. Tried to wade through the worry and fear pooling from her.
Reaching forward, I set her mug down and wrapped my hands around hers. “You have to tell him what you just told me.” When it looked like she was going to argue, I hurried to say, “Rae, he doesn’t know.”
“Because he wants to get married.”
“And if he asks you, and you say no, he isn’t going to understand why.” I leaned closer, my voice dropping lower still. “He knows you, Rae. He knows your past and your fears. If you just talk to him, he’ll understand.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut. “He won’t because he wants this too much.”
“It might be hard for him, but he’ll understand.” I gripped her hands tighter and waited until she was looking at me again. “You might even change your mind one day, but right now, this is where you’re at. I know you, and I know him, so trust me on this. Please tell him.”
A heavy sigh left her, but her head bobbed in acknowledgment and agreement. “I mean, it’s crazy though, right? You wouldn’t get married now . . . right?”
“I’m on your side,” I murmured with a wink. “Always. But I’d marry Cayson in a heartbeat. I would’ve done it five months ago if he’d asked.”
She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. As if just listening to my claim made her more wary of marriage.
“That’s just me,” I said with a laugh. “We’re allowed to be different.”
“Understatement.” A hint of that mischievousness danced in her eyes again. “Sawyer.”
“Cayson,” I shot back.
“Guess that means you’re never getting married,” she taunted with a look of faux shock.
My mouth popped open on a slow gasp. “Take it back.”
But just then, I saw the dark, messy hair and familiar gait of the Dixon men crossing the storefront.
My heart took off as I glanced around Rae to get a better look, a smile breaking free when I saw Cayson there.
Head ducked low, dimple showing off his secret smile as Hunter playfully shoved him.
Then I was rushing out from behind the counter and through the café. Barreling through the doors and jumping into Cayson’s arms a second after he saw me coming.
Still, he caught me. Not that I’d ever doubted he would.
His low laugh had chills skating across my body.
The way his arms tightened around me possessively had my soul crying out because its other half was home.
“Missed you,” I said into his neck.
“Every day.”
I pressed a short but passionate kiss to his lips before meeting those sunlit sea eyes. My teeth digging into my lip as I tried to contain my smile that was only partially due to him being home.
Curiosity swirled within his own excitement. “I have a surprise for you.”
“If it isn’t two uninterrupted weeks with you, I’m not interested.”
His chest moved against mine in a silent laugh before he was kissing me again. Short. Soft. Sweet.
Bourbon and sandalwood.
“You first,” he said as he pulled back.
“Wait, what?”
He gave me a knowing look before setting my feet on the ground. “I can see it, you’re practically shaking you’re so excited. Tell me.”
“I am not,” I lied.
The look he gave me was skeptical and all kinds of adorable with how happy he was.
Glancing at Hunter, he gave a hard shake of his head and focused on me. “This is too big. You first.”
“Who said I have anything?”
“Em,” he whispered softly, gripping my hips and pulling me closer. “I know you.”
A soft, conceding sigh left me because he did know me. “I’m not telling you until later. You might as well tell me.”
Wonder and excitement danced across his face, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to figure out what I was keeping from him.
After a moment, he relented, “I went to see Mrs. Lange.”
“Before me?”
“She called the day I got on the rig, said it was important,” he explained, trying to look apologetic and failing because he was that excited.
It had my news fading for the briefest moment as I wondered what could have him looking like this—what could’ve been so important. “Well, I’d ask if she’s okay, but you’re too happy for her not to be.”
“No, she’s great. She decided to go live with her daughter.”
Warmth tugged at my chest. “That’s great. I think it will be so good for her to be with family.”
“She’s really excited,” he confirmed. His smile shifted, became more intimate as he pulled me closer. “Em, the Langes wanted me to have their ranch. She wants me to have their ranch.”
“Oh my God.” Shock and amazement flooded me, stunning me for a moment and making me stumble over my next words. “I can’t—that’s incred—what did you say?”
“That I’d have to talk to you first.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a soft smile. “Still, I think I thanked her about twenty times. She has everything ready to sign the deed over to us if we want it.”
“We?” I asked teasingly.
“I’m not living there without you.”
I went a little weak at his rough claim, my heart thundering as an uncontrollable, giddy smile lit my face.
“It’s farther than the condo,” I said, feigning uncertainty. As if I’d ever
not want that ranch.
“Only a few miles.”
“I wouldn’t be able to walk back and forth from Brewed. I’d run out of gas much more often.”
Amusement danced across his features. “I’ll make sure your Jeep’s filled up.”
“And what about the days I need to run home for a quick nap?”
“You can drive to the ranch faster than you can walk to the condo.”
“Although,” I began thoughtfully, “we will need more room soon.”
Confusion washed away everything else, his brows pulling tightly together. “What?”
“Our place only has one bedroom,” I said meaningfully as I brought one of my hands to my stomach. “We need more.”
He jolted when my words registered. His expression falling as he glanced to the sliver of space between us, to my hand, before his eyes were piercing mine again.
Emotions battling within them.
Hope. Worry. Joy. Fear. Love.
I felt the tremor that coursed through him.
The breath that ripped from him.
The way he staggered, one of his arms tightening protectively around me while the other shot out to the wall of windows behind me.
“Emberly,” he whispered, voice tight and rough as his forehead fell to mine. His lips ghosting across mine as he brought his hand around to brush his knuckles along my stomach. “Bring me to my fucking knees.”
I threaded my fingers through his as he continued to make soft passes. “I love you too.”
He kissed me fiercely, breathing I love yous against my lips before pulling away. A blinding smile covered his handsome face as he brought me with him, needing to keep me close.
A stunned laugh escaped him as he glanced to the side. “Hunt—” Cayson’s expression fell slightly as he studied his brother.
I’d forgotten he was there at all.
“Hunter?”
I looked to where he’d been, but he was standing another few feet away, faded ball cap in hand and hanging loosely at his side as he stared down the sidewalk.
Haunted.
Apprehensive.
Hopeful.
Keeping an arm curled tight around me, Cayson shifted toward Hunter, reaching out to him. “What’s wrong?”
Cayson looked in the direction Hunter was, but I watched as Hunter blinked, his head shaking sharply as he took a step.
Whiskey (Brewed Book 2) Page 38