Bourbon & Lies (The Bourbon Boys, #1)

by Victoria Wilder

Never fall for a Foxx brother.

I’ve always liked the idea of a man like that. A sexy feminist who doesn’t need to boss a woman around or save the day to prove his masculinity. One who trusts and allows her to handle her shit without having to rescue her, but is there when she needs him.

His dark hair peeks out from the edges of a worn royal-blue baseball hat. Broad shoulders and perfect posture make it look like he was born to ride a horse. The way he carries himself is confident and rugged. My eyes wander across his strong chest, up to his chiseled jaw that hides behind thick scruff. I do more than just glance down the length of his arms to his corded forearms and white knuckles gripping the reins. I’m staring.

“I’m going to do you a favor and be honest with you.” I rub behind Julep’s ears and lift my eyes up to him. “I’m guessing by your charming tone that this ‘honest favor’ won’t be the kind that has me smiling or moaning afterwards?”

Every woman a Foxx man loved ended up dying. I don’t think any of us want to try to survive another loss like the ones we’ve experienced.

“That one, with the forearms and big shoulders, would be Grant Foxx.”

And I’m realizing really fucking quickly that Grant Foxx is not just attractive. No, this guy is ruggedly handsome. Tall and built. Thick, dark brown hair long enough to thread through fingers and grip along the top. Hazel eyes shining with colors that make them pretty as they dance around my face.

“My name sounds good coming out of your mouth like that.”

As I look over my shoulder at him one more time, I realize I’ve just figured out two very important things: I’ve definitely managed to piss off Grant Foxx just by existing in his small town. And I think I like it.

My fist slams into the black heavy bag hanging from the rafters in my workspace. I square off and rotate my hips, driving right hooks in rapid succession, running through a series of jabs, hooks, and uppercuts before one of my knuckles split.

“Fuck my life, I want her.”

The way her lips look puffy and pouty. Like she’s not getting her way after just finishing sucking on a cherry popsicle. The way I want to see how she’d take me. If she whines or moans when she feels good. The way it would feel to tuck my cock between her tits and then paint them when I’m ready. Make her lick me clean.

“You keep looking at me like that, cowboy, and I’ll get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea is that, honey?”

And I definitely shouldn't touch myself with thoughts of his mouth on mine. Or imagine his hands playing with my body with his words from today on replay. But I ignore what’s smart for tonight and enjoy Grant Foxx, even if it’s just a fantasy.

Laney’s been in my head since she showed up, and I’m drowning in the idea of her doing more than just smiling at me. It’s her body wrapped around mine. It’s wanting to hear her story. It’s the way I want her to see me

I don’t say anything in response, because I meant what I said last night. Friendship would never be enough, and I’m riding a fine line between walking away or just saying fuck it.

It feels like touching her right now isn’t a decision I’ve made or a thoughtless choice, but a necessity.

“I don’t want complicated. I don’t chase women. I don’t like people who show up and crash into my life. I don’t fall for strangers who are a pain in my ass.”

“Sounds like you might have a problem then, cowboy.”

“Yeah, honey.” I smirk. “Want to make a liar out of me?”

Is she drunk? She’s skinny dipping in my backyard.

The way I feel about her isn’t something I planned on happening, but here I am. Bloody knuckles, teetering on the edge of worried about what she’s hiding from, and realizing that I can’t go back. I don’t want to. Lincoln’s right, only obsessed isn’t the right word. Falling for her is all-consuming.

I’ve never wanted to lick a bicep and smell someone’s skin the way I have the urge to right now.

chin. I want to messy her up and then lick her clean.

“Life’s too unpredictable to worry how tidy it should be.” He nudges my arm with his elbow. “Get messy.”

I’ve made up my mind. I choose messy.

Fuck it. “I want you so fucking bad that I can't think of anything else.” My hand trails up her hip and toward her waist with the slightest squeeze. “You’re all I think about. The things you say, how you look at me. This mouth. These lips. Do you know how many times I’ve pictured them wrapped around my cock? How I need to know if I picked the right nickname for you.”

“Tell me, Laney, do you taste like honey, or is it something even sweeter? Either way, I’m going to savor every fucking drop of the mess you make for me.”

“Am I going home or coming⁠—?” Too easy. I smirk at the question, not letting her finish. “You’re coming at least once on my tongue. And twice on my cock, if I’m lucky.”

“I want to see you fall apart for me,”

“I can’t stop picturing my cock sinking into your pretty pussy. And it is”—his fingers traced along my lips—“so fucking pretty.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve asked a girl out.” That shouldn’t be all that surprising with the way that he doesn’t seem all that interested in most people. “But in case you misunderstood me, honey. When I woke up with the taste of you on my tongue and the smell of you in my beard, I considered you mine.”

The way this man kisses with his whole body, it steals the breath right out of me.

“You want someone who’s going to challenge that smart-ass mouth of yours?”

“You didn’t think it was a smart-ass mouth when it was choking on your cock.”

“I’m pretty sure I started falling for you the moment you flipped me off.”

“But I am, honey. I’m so fucking in love with you. This is it for me.”

“My family will always be my family. No matter where I am, I love them and they love me. But you’re wrong about my life, honey. I’ve been treading water. Wasting time trying to keep people away. But I’ve only just started living again.” He wipes the tear that’s fallen down the side of my nose. “This woman who has no filter and calls me cowboy is the person I want to do life with. I don’t need more time to tell me something I already know.”

“I thought it was going to happen again. That I wasn’t going to be able to get to you in time. And that I”—he kisses me as tears track down his cheeks—“was going to lose you. Honey, I can’t lose you. Please stay with me. I want this. Us.” He blows out another shaky breath. “More than I’ve wanted anything else in my life.”

“You said I was yours. So unless you were just handing me a line, that’s exactly what I am. It feels that simple for me. I choose to be yours the same way you’ve chosen to be mine. I’m not going anywhere, cowboy.”

“My wife.”

“Always you, baby. I’ll always choose you.”

“The hat was a good choice.”

She told me the only requirement she had of me today was to wear the black cowboy hat she brought home last night.

“How long have you been wanting me t...

“Literally since the first time...