Whiskey and Country

26

NICHOLAS

“Fuck, Dahlia. I’m not sure I want to be your friend anymore.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes. Replacing the intensity that had been burning there all night. “W-why not?”

“Because I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Her voice became a throaty whisper. And it tampered with my agonized cells. “We already kissed. Many times.”

“Dahlia, friends aren’t supposed to kiss each other. Not the way I am itching to. Not how I intend to. It’s not in the rulebook. I checked. Believe me, I’m sure. And you here, right now, all beautiful and sexy, it’s playing with my sanity.” I paused to breathe properly. “Big fucking time.”

The breathless murmur of her voice trembled. “You do? You did? The thing is”—she inhaled—"maybe it’s time to change the rules. Nick, we’ve played long enough. I’m a mess because I think about you kissing me this way all the time. I do.”

Pure unleashed electricity traveled through my veins. My entire body ignited on learning about the depth of her desire, each atom of my being on high alert.

My cock twitched in my pants just at the thought of her lips on mine and mine all over her soft flesh.

The woman was like a drug. She got me addicted to her essence with just a glance my way. And now I was a junkie craving her.

Dahlia’s sharp intake of breath commanded my undivided attention.

“Kiss me, Nick. Like you mean it. Like you want to. Like I belong to you.”

She nibbled her bottom lip and molded her upper body to mine. Each thump of her heart reverberated through my chest.

She captured my eyes. And I lost the battle in me.

With deliberate slowness, I took the wine glass from her grip and placed it on the counter behind me. Desire making my fingers tremble. A rising tempest in me made it so difficult to be gentle. I wanted to take her hard, the way I pictured myself doing so every night. Every day. And every aching minute in between.

I slammed my lips on hers, tilting her head, claiming her as mine, wanting to inhale her completely.

My heart probably skipped a few beats. Dahlia gasped, and I thought I’d lost it.

Nothing was delicate or slow in the way I captured her mouth. All the restraints I’d leashed for the past few weeks flew away. The roughness of my jaw brushed against the softness of hers. Desperate whimpers whirled around us. My torso pressed on hers, caging her, and keeping me upright as my body convulsed, her lips savage against mine, accepting everything I demanded.

This wasn’t a kiss. It was a seismic wave of desire washing over both of us. A tsunami of burning want.

My eyes closed as I etched this moment into my memory.

Dahlia anchored herself to me. She fisted my T-shirt, urging me closer. Her other hand curled around my neck, a vice grip forbidding me to step back.

I stopped breathing. Only Dahlia existed for me.

She sucked on my tongue, and I swore I could have come right there.

Blood boiled in my veins as need arose in me, lightning swift. My fingers knotted in her hair, clutching her to me. My lips crushed hers, bit them, soothed them with my tongue.

I tugged at her bottom lip between my teeth.

My eyes slit-opened, just enough to notice how beautiful she looked, lost in the moment of us.

Shivers of pleasure shot down my spine as she half-moaned and half-growled and pulled my lips back to hers. My tongue darted into her mouth, hungry and intense, to play with hers. Clamping onto her hips with my fingers, sensations spiraled with a searing need. She shuddered in my arms, and my heart swelled as if it would burst out of my chest. My cock was drilling a hole in my pants. Heat rose between us as we lost control, Dahlia’s sounds awakening something wild in me.

Feral.

Animalistic.

Wild gasps and yelps.

Her body undulated against mine, hot and untamed. Mine dissolved at her touch as her fingers caressed my chest and pinched my nipples. I felt truly alive as I had never felt before. Thrilling. Only the want existed between us. And we were lost in each other, in this connection. Breathless and dazed. This time, I looked at her. A thunderbolt called Dahlia had cleaved my body, igniting my core, scorching my spine.

She owned me.

It scared me as much as it excited me. We were about to crash and burn.

To explode together. Consuming each other. I tried—I really tried—to talk myself out of it. So our friendship could blossom for a little longer. But my body had a mind of its own. My soul too. And I gave in to both.

My hand curled around her nape, fingers digging into her skin, our mouths collided again, hating even the slightest space between us. She tasted like a forbidden fruit, addictive. And one taste was not enough. There was no going back.

Dahlia Ellis had become my raison d’être. My sin. My obsession.

Our lips moved like a rehearsed choreography. No teasing. No dancing around. Just our need for each other. Dahlia was offering herself, and like a greedy man, I intended to take it all. And give back ten times stronger. I wanted to blow her mind until she couldn’t think. Her body completely satiated.

Fire traveled through my bloodstream. My cock pulsated, wanting immediate release. She quivered in my arms, wild moans from the back of her throat.

My brain blanked out. My senses heightened.

My heart pounded in my chest.

By the intensity pouring out from her eyes, every particle of me thrummed.

Without another word, I cupped her cheeks as her gaze, demanding and scorching, found mine.

So heavy, I forgot my own name.

I slanted my lips and sucked the seams of her mouth, dueling with her tongue in a delicious tango. Dahlia pulled me closer, hands charting the searing ridges of my abdomen, sprinkling goosebumps in their wake.

I slid her hips to the edge of the countertop, her lower body rubbed the hardness of mine, seeking a deeper connection. Tension wrapped us tight until we were coiled with need.

Every breath Dahlia took sent aftershocks through me, turning my flesh into a blazing inferno.

My hands roamed all over her still-clothed body. Too many layers of fabric separated us, preventing me from touching her. Really touching her.

“Where have you been all my life?” I whispered against her mouth, ravenous for the woman rocking my world.

She whispered, need for me steeped in her words, the sound waking up the beast inside me. “Here. Waiting for you to show up.”

My hand ventured between her thighs, and she shivered when I traced the line of her crotch, sensing her heat through the denim.

My thumb drew circles over her clit through the fabric, and she gasped. Taking advantage, I pushed my tongue deeper into her mouth, meeting hers in long, enticing strokes.

“Nick.” Dahlia cried as she pushed her breasts forward while my mouth traced her jawline, the column of her throat, the contour of her collarbones.

“More,” she demanded.