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“You need a cover story? Or have I not seen you?” I hoist the bag onto my shoulder and step toward Lady. “Never saw me.”
“Kentucky makes the best bourbon. And Foxx makes the best in Kentucky,”
She’s an entirely new kind of focal point. The kind that turns heads and bodies on. There isn’t a single person paying attention to anything or anyone else other than her, including me.
I hadn’t realized that karma would be dressed in Wranglers and a crisp black shirt and dark wool coat, ignoring my presence.
Quietly, she says, “Here. This one is supposed to give you courage. Don’t lose it, okay?” She tosses the gray rock next to me. When it bounces and flips over, the ragged purple crystals land face up.
“You’re not being very nice,” I say teasingly. She huffs as I keep the same slow and deep pace without increasing my speed. “You don’t want a nice girl right now, Foxx.” “What do I want, then, hmm?” A small moan crawls up her throat as she says, “You want someone to tell you to be a good boy and do what you’re told.”
There’s no faking love like this—seeing it warms me in a way that had nothing to do with the morning sunshine. It either exists or it doesn’t.
She smiles at Lincoln and, holy hell, they’re right. That man can steal the oxygen out of just about any room he wants.
He leans in, his hand ghosting around me and touching my hip as he whispers, “Believe me when I say that I’ve tried to forget. But those sounds you made . . . The way you came so beautifully for me . . .” He lets out a small laugh, and my stomach swoops. “That’s not something a man forgets.” When he moves a few inches closer, I have to suppress a shiver. “So no, I didn’t forget your name. You’re making that really fucking hard for me.”
“I know you’re watching me walk away,” I call out as I turn my head to the side. “Hard not to when you consider how much I liked watching you come,” he says, far too loudly.
“How did you pay for this?” I ask quietly. It’s the even tone that tells my girls I’m about to flip my shit. “Curse purse,” they respond in unison.
I don’t know what it is about being near her that feels good. I should ignore it, move on, and forget all about the other night in that dark alley.
“Your girls are lucky to know what it feels like to be loved by their dad,”
“I hate you a little.” I can’t help but hold back my smile because, as she’s saying that, she rolls her hips the slightest bit. “I hate you a little too, Peach.”
“You call me Peach like I’m sweet, but Foxx, you know better. I’m the furthest thing from sweet.”
“That’s twice now,” I whisper. “I’ve come twice with you, and you haven’t . . .” “I very much enjoy watching you lose control,” he says with a hint of a smile in his voice as he runs his fingers down the center of my back.
“You better watch who you threaten, Waz. Like you said, I have a habit of murderin’ men.”
I lean toward her and take a second to really look, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. I’ve looked at her in so many different lights and lenses.
“What should we toast to? Punches and pepper spray?” With an unexpected chuckle, she studies the color, swirling the bourbon in her glass. “To bourbon and secrets.” “To bourbon and secrets,” I repeat and clink her glass.
Instead of reaching to take the glass, she tilts her chin up, parting her lips. I dip my finger into the hand-blown glass and then paint her lips with the bourbon that drips off. Her fingers tighten against the front of my shirt as she pulls me closer, widening her legs to make room for me. Her tongue peeks out and licks away the bourbon across her lips.
I open my mouth just as he wraps his lips around the bottle of bourbon. He drinks from it, shifts over my waiting mouth, and then spits.
“Now, tell me you don’t like bourbon,” he teases. His mouth trailing down the side of my neck to kiss away the bourbon that escaped my mouth.
“There may never be such a thing as a great bottle of bourbon for me ever again unless I have the taste of your pussy with it.”
“Keep looking at me like that, Peach. That’s it.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “Tell me you want me. I need to hear it.” I trail my fingers along my skin, from my breast to my center at a punishingly slow pace. “Say please.” He smirks as he rocks his wrist back and forth, jerking himself hard and slow. “Please.”
“The way you’re looking at me . . .” He shakes his head. “Fuck, I’m in so much trouble.”
“Good. I don’t want you to change.” He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “I just wanted some clarity so I didn’t end up killing a man for touching someone who’s starting to feel like mine.”
“I want to be around you. I like me more when I’m around you. So let me be around you, Peach.
“I’m not going to tell you how I want your mess. And I won’t tell you how you are exactly the kind of chaos I want mixed with mine.”
“Griz, what are you telling us here?” “That your mother is alive and well,” Bea answers.
With a watery laugh, she says, “Something about those Foxx boys.” Her eyebrows raise. “I get it. I fell for one too.”
Dad, did you know her middle name was Rose?” Actually, I didn’t. “Hello?” Lily says, throwing her arms up. “Her middle name is a flower. Soulmate!”
“Yeah, kiddo, then I'll make sure she knows how much we want her to stay. And how much I plan on loving her.” “We,” Lily corrects. “How much we plan on loving her.”
“He always leans in—to hugs, to his family. It’s something that I thought set him apart from his brothers most.
“A man like Lincoln isn’t one you love and leave. He’s the kind you let hold you and then make sure you never let go.”
“You came back,” I say as I rush to her, wrapping my arms around her tightly.
You are what love looks like to me.”
She searches my face, jaw dropping slightly and eyes widening. “Foxx . . .” she exhales. “It’s a great last name, Peach. I’d very much like it if you’d make it yours. But no pressure.”
I lean forward, and just before her lips find mine, I tell her one last secret. “I never planned on loving you, Peach. But now, I never plan on stopping.”
