Page 101 of Property of Whiskey

“I mean it.”

Her hands remain on my shoulders while I keep mine to myself.

Barely.

“You want me because you want me, say it. Otherwise sit your ass back down.”

Silence settles between us. For once, Twila doesn’t have some smartass answer waiting.

Her eyes search mine before her chin lifts. “You scared?”

“No.”

“Then kiss me.”

Heat goes straight through me.

“That an order, Deputy?”

“Consider it a test.”

“Bad fucking idea.”

“Probably.”

I give her one last second to move.

She doesn’t. So I rise up and kiss her.

Fuck.

I’ve thought about this more times than I’m admitting, and none of them got it right.

Twila’s mouth is warm and angry and tastes faintly like sweet tea and barbecue. She makes a small surprised sound against me, like she didn’t expect me to actually do it, then kisses me back hard enough to wipe every smart thought out of my damn skull.

Her cuffed hands slide behind my neck.

That’s when mine finally move.

One catches her waist while the other cups the back of her neck. She opens for me when my tongue touches hers, pressing closer until there ain’t enough room between us for another bad decision.

Then she bites my lower lip.

I pull back. “Goddammit.”

Her eyes are bright. “You complaining?”

“Always this violent?”

“You like it.”

“Yeah.”

I drag my thumb across her mouth. “That’s the fucking problem.”

She kisses me this time. No warning. No test. Her body presses into mine, and my hand slides lower to her hip before I can stop it. Twila shifts between my knees, her cuffed hands tangling in my hair as the chair creaks beneath us.

Then she climbs onto my lap.