Page 121 of Property of Whiskey

Twila pulls back enough to glare at me. “What?”

“Checking.”

“For what?”

“If you still want this.”

Something in her expression softens. Then she grabs my wrist and puts my hand back where it was.

“That answer clear enough?”

My palm slides over her waist and higher.

She arches into me when my thumb brushes the underside of her breast through the thin fabric of her bra.

“Whiskey.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tease.”

Her heel presses into the back of my thigh like she’s trying to physically hurry me along.

That almost kills me.

I look at her. “Careful, Blondie.”

Her blue-gray eyes lock onto mine.

“I want you.”

Fuck.

“Say it again.”

Her lips part. “I want you.”

“Good, because I’ve been trying not to fuck you since you wrapped those legs around me on the bike.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth. “Maybe quit trying.”

Fuck.

I kiss her hard.

Her shirt comes off. Mine’s already somewhere on the floor. Her bra follows after I fumble the clasp once.

Twila laughs.

I hold the thing up and glare at it.

“Want me to arrest it?”

I throw the damn thing across the room.

She laughs again.

Then I look at her.