Whisky Business

by Elliot Fletcher

I was five foot two, but I worked out every second Wednesday. I was scrappy, like a Chihuahua.

I found I rather liked his eyes on me. I always had.

But a childhood in and out of the hospital could leave other scars too, ones not so easily seen and understood.

How did I begin to explain to this man who’d been loyal to my grandfather for so many years that Kier never had any

intention of selling him the distillery because I already owned it?

“Why do you care so much?”

“It’s Kier’s legacy . . . this place meant more to him than anything.”

“Not anything,”

“Clandestine,” she repeated,

“I like that word.” Heat crept up my neck. “I like the way you look when you say it.”

That voice. When I ignored the words that came with it, that voice did things to me. Delicious things.

“When I’m flirting, boss, you’ll know about it.” I held his gaze until he swallowed. “Now . . . if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and take a very long bubble bath.”

I’d done a good job up to this point of not being attracted to her. I mean, I’d always been attracted to her, but in a safe, hypothetical way. A “never gonna happen” kind of way. Looking at April now, I remembered all too easily why she was my first crush. My only crush, really.

You can touch anything you want. Hold it on your tongue. Good girl . . . now swallow. If you fancy something a wee bit sweeter. He had to be kidding with this.

She bit her lip and I knew I was bloody done for.

Mal: Do you have enough wood for the fire? Princess: More than enough, daddy. I was making a point.

I reread the message a dozen times, blood singing, other parts of me straining. She was joking. She had to be.

We fit. We fit just right.

I’d pushed her up against the counter and ground my rock-hard cock against her. Not even the memory of her sweet arse cheeks cupping me through my trousers was enough to wipe away the burn of humiliation. It was like a bridge troll dry-humping Snow White.

Then he was saying my name. April. Princess . . . I need . . . fuck . . . I can’t breathe when I’m near you.

April was the issue. Wanting her beyond reason was the issue. And I’d proven now that I could no longer be trusted alone with her.

“I’m sorry if I went

too far . . . did something that you weren’t comfortable with.”

“You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do.” He spelled it out very clearly—He’d wanted me. “But it still shouldn’t have happened.”

“What happened the other night meant something to me. If I want you and you want me, I don’t see a problem.”

“You need to leave it alone. I can’t . . . I don’t want you—”

“Not anymore.”

Yes. I’d practically claimed her tonight. Nearly punched a guy in front of the entire village.

Maybe if I held her tight enough, I could erase anything bad that’d ever happened to her, stop anything bad from ever happening again.

“I want someone to keep me warm . . . I want . . . I want to be important to someone.” Her voice broke in the middle. “I want someone to text me every day and ask me what I want for dinner so I can reply ‘no idea.’ I want someone to wonder where I am . . . I want someone to see me.” I’d hurt her. I saw that fully now.

“I’ve wondered where you were my entire life, princess.”

“I actually should tell you . . . I can’t stand coffee.”

“Why lie? Why let me bring you coffee every morning?”

“I could have”—he nodded jerkily and swallowed—“but I was too busy soaking up any scraps of yourself you were willing to offer. Even if it was just a brush of our

fingers around the thermos you handed me every morning.”

“So, aye, princess, I want your body, but that’s only a fraction of what I want from you.”

“Just so you know,” he whispered. “I don’t consider time and space to be mutually exclusive, so expect to see me around.”

“Is someone driving you to distraction, Mal?”

“When we kissed in your room . . . I said it shouldn’t have happened. What I wanted to say, what I should have said, is that you undo me in a way that scares me. That’s why I ran.”

“I’m desperate for you, April, haven’t you realized yet?”

“I’m starting to,”

“Are you ready yet, my lord?” He laughed and it resembled a dying animal. “A thousand lifetimes wouldn’t have prepared me for you.”

“Is this how you finally kill me?” “Perhaps.” My grin felt wicked. “Good. Ride me until my heart explodes.”

“Princess, if the last thing I taste in this world is your pretty little pussy, I’ll die a happy man.” “God.”

The number doesn’t matter, it could be zero or a hundred, there’s only you now.

Every day would be like this, because if Mal held another’s heart, he would treat it as he did everything that mattered to him—with thought, purpose, and rigid determination. There would be no half measures.

“I’m so fucking gone for you, do you even realize?”

No one had ever gotten me this hot before.

How does he look at me? Like . . . you’re a revelation.

“There wasn’t a day or a moment when you finally worked your way beneath my skin, you were already there . . . every time I saw you, you buried yourself a little deeper. You were inevitable, princess. Holding back my feelings was like trying to hold back the tide.”