She pulls the tray out, muttering, “Excuse me.” She keeps her eyes averted from mine, and it takes me a minute to steady myself, the mixture of beer and Haddie enough to make a man drunk off his ass.

I shut the door, watching her move the tray to the counter on the other side of the kitchen and start fiddling with the shots, her back toward me. I close the distance, but the words on my lips falter.

“Jell-O shots, huh?” I ask, trying to act as casual as possible, not caring whatsoever because the Macallan in front of me looks a thousand times more tempting than the childish flavors in her colored cups. “What kind?”

“Mm-hmm. Tequila sunrise, I think.”

I know she knows I’m behind her. Can see her hands stop fiddling aimlessly. Her body stills, and her breath hitches. I step into her—itching to touch her in so many ways, and when I see the little cups of orange Jell-O she’s focusing on, I know exactly how to go about it.

Plan of attack figured out.

My front is against her back, trapping her between me and the counter, my hands placed on either side of her hips. The heat of her body, the softness of her curves, and the scent of sun on her skin are enough to make a sane man crazy. I draw it all in—everything about her—as I feel her breath release in a shuddered exhale. It’s the same goddamn sound she makes when I enter her, and hell if that doesn’t make my balls tighten and my dick ache to hear it again.

Preferably on frequent repeat.

I lean my face forward so that my chin scrapes over her bare shoulder and across to the back of her neck. I press an openmouthed kiss there, just below her exposed hairline from her hair being pulled up. I hear the soft sigh begin before she catches it when she feels the warmth of my lips and lick of my tongue. A small thrill shoots through me, knowing I can affect her even after she ran.

Never underestimate the power of a kiss on the neck.

Our bodies are against each other’s, my lips pressed to her nape, and I just remain still so that the heat of my breath can hit her neck. So that she can think and wonder what my next move is going to be.

We stand here in that suspended state of anticipation before I move my mouth ever so slowly to her ear. And I’m not sure if it’s from my breath or just our general nearness, but my resolve to tease and taunt rather than taste and take is strengthened when I see the goose bumps dance across her skin in reaction to me.

“What is it they say you’re supposed to do with tequila?” I breathe into her ear as one of my hands reaches forward to take a little cup, my elbow purposely brushing against her bare torso, and my body pressing harder into hers.

She doesn’t answer, but her body vibrates from our connection. “Something like Lick it …” I let my voice trail off as I run my tongue from the edge of her shoulder up to the curve of her neck. I hear an incoherent moan from her that turns me on in all kinds of ways and feel her body sag some against mine as I taste the salt on her skin.

I hold the shot up in front of us, my languorous trail of kisses stopping right below her earlobe. “Slam it.” I raise the shot up, angling the heel of my hand softly against her breast before bringing it to my lips, her sudden intake of air pushing it farther into me. I toss the Jell-O back, its chill sliding down my throat. I set the empty cup back onto the counter, my dick hardening as it rubs against her lower back. Her inability to speak from her stubborn desire urges me on.

My mouth is back at her ear, an ache so goddamn strong to have her, I’m testing my own fucking restraint here. “I believe the last one is Suck it.” I feel her body stiffen at the words as she anticipates exactly what my next move will be. I pause on purpose, leaving her in that suspended state of desire, wanting her to wonder just that.

After a moment I lower my lips to take the lobe of her ear in my mouth and suck on it before scraping my teeth against it as I release it. This time she doesn’t try to disguise her sound of desire as it falls from her mouth. I grip my hands on the edge of the counter to prevent myself from doing any more because I really just want to slide my hands in the front of her black bikini bottoms and make her come undone.

And not a second after the thought enters my head, my hands are on the move, lust driving their actions. One hand palms her bare midriff, the diamond stud I noticed adorning her belly button just adding fuel to my raging fire of lust, as if I needed any help. At the same time, my other hand slips beneath the soft band of her bottoms and stops just above the top of her clit.

“Becks …” My name is on her lips again, the only one I want to be there. She takes her hands from the counter and wraps them around my forearms. At first I think she’s going to try to stop me, but when she just grips them tightly, I know she’s urging me on. Asking me to take her, drive her to find ecstasy, and fuck me, there is nothing more attractive than a woman who knows what the hell she wants.

I don’t speak, and I’d like to think I made the conscious decision that words are not needed right now, but fuck, my mind is so focused on the slick lips I’ll find beneath my fingertips that I can’t even think clearly. Haddie’s fingernails dig into the skin on my arm as I kick her feet farther apart with my own to gain better access to her heat. I lower my hand, my fingers parting her. I slide them back up to find her clit at the top of her seam and rub my fingers over it ever so slowly and then back.

Her legs weaken beneath her, and I press my hand against her stomach harder so that she can use my body for support. I work the pads of my fingers over her gently at first and then with more fervor as her breath starts to catch and she grinds her pelvis forward and into my hand, her voice silent but her body begging for exactly what she wants. I ease up and lower my fingers to recoat them with her arousal to find her dripping wet.

And as much as my own body is reacting to the knowledge that sweet Haddie is on the verge of coming, that she wants me to bring her there, I know I have her right where I want her. Needing, wanting, desperate for more.

I find her clit again, add in the friction that’s causing her to writhe and buck against me. I hear her breath hitching, feel her muscles start to tense up, and as much as it pains me, as much as causing a woman to reach orgasm is a powerful high for me that I love—it makes me hard as a fucking rock—I stop my fingers.

I hold them still, pressing on either side of her clit but do not move them. I hear her gasp of shock at the pause in sensation, the sudden loss of her orgasm, and the labor of her breathing as she wars desire against dignity to ask for what I’m going to deny her.

“It’s you that I want, Haddie,” I say against her ear. “Only you.”

I let the thought settle within her, my fingers astride her pleasure, my body taut with the pain of restraint as we stand there motionless, chests heaving. “I’m not letting you walk away from me again. I don’t care what your fears are, what your doubts are, who else you’re seeing….” I press a soft kiss on that addictive curve of her neck again, and it earns me a shuddered breath that is sexy and then some. “This orgasm is mine. You will not give it to anyone else, even your own hand. I want you strung so goddamn tight, you beg me to fuck you, beg me to own you.”

She gasps out again, but this time it’s because I withdraw my hands from her. She sags against the counter in respite, effectively breaking every connection our bodies have with each other.

I lean forward, my mouth a whisper from her ear, my breath the only part of me touching her. “And I will own you, but on my terms next time.”

When I take a step back, a soft “Fuck you” falls from her mouth in an unsteady tone as I notice her knuckles turning white from gripping the counter on both sides of her.

I’m curious if she’s holding on to keep herself from grabbing me and forcing me to finish her off or because she wants to slap me. Either one would be hot as hell because at least I’d know I’d gotten a reaction. And that she’s pissed enough to want more.

But her hands remain clenched.

I chuckle, low and taunting, her obstinacy turning me on so much, I have to leave now before I cave under the weight of desire and my ache to take her. “I believe that’s the point.”

I look at her one more time before I turn to go and watch her head fall forward as she tries to rein in everything—emotionally and physically—that I just brought out in her. Good. I got to her.

I walk toward the patio doors and can’t resist bringing my fingers to my lips. I slide them in my mouth momentarily to get a taste of her, of exactly what I’m craving, and have to fight the urge to stalk back and just say screw the plan and instead just take her right here, right now.

Goddamn Macallan.

So fucking addictive I’m going to need AA meetings if this shit keeps up.



Chapter 19

I lace up my shoes, desperate to get out of the house and away from waiting for the phone to ring, Dr. Blakely calling with blood test and biopsy results that I’ve been informed most likely will take another few days. Regardless, I stare at my phone each time I pass it.

When it does ring, it’s usually Rylee checking up on me, asking why I seem out of sorts, to which I reply I’m just stressed about this Scandalous deal and the impending BRCA1 test results. That answer usually quiets her down, and she comes through with the moral support that I desperately need but for something possibly much more devastating than a gene test result.