Page 76 of Inevitable

“Did you pick it based on the label?” I teased, popping off the top and pouring some into a glass.

“I tend to find that if the label is appealing, the taste will be too. Don’t you agree?”

“Sometimes. Let’s see if it holds true for this whiskey.” I sniffed the contents before sliding the glass over to her. “This is a twelve-year-old single malt, and it was designed to capture the flavor of Irish whiskey.”

I watched as she swirled the glass then took a sip. She cringed. “It’s…yeah. Burns.”

I chuckled. “Yes, but try to concentrate on the flavors, the individual notes.” When she continued to stare at me, I added, “Sometimes it helps to close your eyes. Then your remaining senses really have to focus.”

She lifted the glass to her lips and closed her eyes, and I watched her, completely enraptured. The column of her neck, the way she swallowed. Her tongue flitting out to lick her lips. “It’s a little…spicy. And maybe something citrusy?”

“Let me see.” I pressed my mouth to hers, exploring with my tongue, the taste of malted barley mixing with Sumner’s. It was better than any whiskey I’d ever tasted. “Mm. Yes. Spicy.”

I could feel her smile against my lips, which prompted my own. Finally, I pulled back and offered her a chip. “To cleanse the palate,” I said, taking one myself.

“Oh. So distinguished.” She lifted it to her mouth, her pinkie finger elevated.

“Up next, we have Maker’s Mark.” I uncapped the bottle and poured some in a fresh glass and slid it over to her.

“Did you know on the plane, when you sipped my whiskey, I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I was tempted to.”

She grinned down at the glass, her expression so fucking coy. “Was that the first time you were tempted to kiss me?”

“Honestly?” I shook my head. “No. I was tempted to kiss you the moment you walked through the door of my office.”

“You…” She stared at me, slack-jawed. “Seriously?”

I took her hand in mine, kissing her palm, the inside of her wrist. “Yes. And nearly every day since.”

“You can’t say things like that.” Her voice shook, and when I glanced at her eyes, they were as warm as the whiskey had been going down my throat.

“Why not?” I rasped, dipping a cube of ice into the whiskey before trailing it down her neck.

She shuddered, her chest rising and falling in quick succession as a drop of water trickled its way down her skin. I licked it off, the vanilla and caramel of the whiskey mixing with the taste of her. Forget Blanton’s; I had a new favorite.

I dipped the ice back in the whiskey, this time getting a little more of the alcohol on my fingers before painting her skin. From now on, I would forever associate the taste of whiskey with Sumner. My two favorite things—linked together.

“Because— Ahh…” She moaned when I dipped the ice cube lower, chasing the flavor with my tongue between her breasts. “You’ll… Oh god.” She tugged on my hair. “Make me forget about anything else.”

That’s what I’m hoping.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Good morning.” I jumped at the sound of Lea’s voice, and she emerged from the pantry a moment later.

I knew I shouldn’t have let Jonathan talk me into staying over again last night. But how could I say no? Ever since “whiskey weekend,” as I’d taken to referring to it, I’d been staying over more and more. He’d take me out to see a site, and then we’d end up having sex on his kitchen counter. He’d ask me to come to his office to look at something, and next thing I knew, I’d be pressed against the wall. It was as if we both thought if we kept busy enough, fucked enough, we’d forget about all the lies between us.

“You’re up early.” I yawned, placing my travel mug beneath the coffee machine.

“A spot opened up in a yoga class I’ve been dying to try.” She tucked her yoga mat beneath her arm, her hair tied back low on her neck.

“Oh.” I pushed the button on the machine, attempting to blink away the sleep from my eyes. I’d snuck in only an hour ago to get ready. “That’s exciting.” I yawned.

“Someone was out late. I didn’t hear you come in until…well, not that long ago.”

“I, um—” I shifted from one foot to the other, feeling like a teen who’d been busted sneaking in after curfew.