Bourbon & Secrets (The Bourbon Boys, #2)

by Victoria Wilder

Getting a woman’s attention has never been the problem. The issue is keeping mine. I chase thankless moments with strangers, finding pockets of pleasure where I can while trying to remember myself as someone other than a father. Or a husband. Or widower.

“You sound so pretty when you’re pissed off and moaning for me.”

“You’re pretty when you’re pissed off too, Foxx. Too bad I couldn’t get you to moan for me this time.”

“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,

“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. What. The. Fuck.

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.

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. He doesn’t let me savor it. He barely lets me swallow before his lips capture mine again.

“Now, tell me you don’t like bourbon,” he teases.

“I’m going to need to fuck you now. Please tell me I can.” There’s an edge of desperation in his tone that has me smiling. I close my eyes, still slightly dazed. “Such a good boy, Foxx, remembering to say please.”

“Eight minutes.” “What happens in eight minutes?” I smile against his lips as I take another kiss. “Until I’ll have you in my bed, grinding your pussy on my face, and reminding me what my new favorite thing tastes like.”

“I’ll give you anything you want, Foxx. You just have to ask.”

“You just went there.” “Yeah. I just went there.” He smiles confidently. “You scared yet?” “Since the moment you called me Peach,”

“I’m going to need you in my mouth when you tell me I’m pretty.”

I started falling in love with Faye Calloway on the edge of a cornfield, on a stage, over a bottle of bourbon, and every time she’s been in my arms since.

You are what love looks like to me.”

With Lincoln Foxx, it feels bigger than a simple word like love. When I’m with him, it feels like home.

“You are so many things, Faye, but the only thing I'm really hoping that you never want to stop being is ours.”

“I never planned on loving you, Peach. But now, I never plan on stopping.”