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"Have you tried it? The kinky stuff."
"Ick." She shudders, but I think she's doing that on purpose. "Absolutely not."
Despite her statement, I need to be completely sure of her feelings on the matter. "Then how can you be certain—"
"How many times do I have to say it?" She emphasizes each word by slapping her palms on the table. "I do not want kink."
My lips tick upward of their own volition. She really is adorable.
"Sorry," I say. "We'll drop the subject."
"At last." Her gaze lifts heavenward, and she sighs.
I want to kiss her and shag her and do all sorts of things a man of my age shouldn't do with a woman her age. I don't know her age, but I suspect she's much younger than I am. Her confirmation that she doesn't want kink makes me relax. I don't want it either, and I don't crave the kind of excitement some women seem to need. Aisley certainly didn't have simple needs.
Erica might be the perfect woman for me.
No, not for me. I cannot get involved with her.
"Give me brownies now," Erica says.
I shut the refrigerator door and bend over to pull out the freezer drawer. "Yes, milady. Any other commands for your humble servant?"
"No. Thank you."
"Here to serve." I rifle through the items in the freezer. "Ah-ha! We may not have much in the way of messages, but we do have one essential item."
I pull out a carton of ice cream and toss it onto the table. The carton lands on its bottom and slides into the brownie dish.
"Perfect," she says, rubbing her hands together. Then she looks at me. "I have to ask. What are messages?"
"Groceries." I kick the freezer drawer shut. Sometimes I forget I'm in America where people speak differently. "Did you decide on whisky or water?"
She chews the inside of her lip for a moment, then nods once. "I'll have whisky."
I can't help smiling—and infusing that expression with all the lust I feel for her. "My kind of woman."
Not that she will ever be my woman.
From a cupboard, I retrieve two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, slapping all three items down on the table between me and Erica. I settle into my chair and rotate the bottle so she can see the label.
Erica angles her head slightly as if she's studying that label. She skims a finger down the bottle, from the neck to the base. "Scotch?"
"Talisker single-malt Scotch whisky." Maybe I should use whisky as a means to encourage her desire and make her more comfortable with the sort of affair I suggested. I love watching her reactions, and I'd love it even more if she's getting aroused. So I lean forward and speak in a deep, sensual tone. "This is distilled on the Isle of Skye, a mysterious place inhabited by the spirits of the ancestors, forever haunting the cairns and standing stones they left behind. It's said the isle has the darkest skies you'll ever find, filled with stars so bright and ancient they might be the spirits themselves. And from this enchanting land is born a single malt as unique as its birthplace." I trail a finger over the back of her hand. "Talisker is a smoky, seductive whisky."
Did I overdo it? She might think my speech was barmy.
But she does seem to be breathing harder, and her voice is huskier when she speaks. "You sound like an advertisement."
"Setting you up for the tasting is all." I open the bottle and pour us both a dram of whisky. I let my fingers graze hers when I offer her a glass. Even that light sensation makes mybagaisache. Soon, my cock will rouse to join my balls in urging me to seduce Erica, but I cannae stop myself.
Erica clears her throat. "Is there a certain way to drink it?"
"For a whisky virgin, I don't recommend guzzling it like you did last night."
"Good advice." She rolls the glass between her palms, seeming to admire the rich, caramel tones revealed by the sunlight glimmering through the whisky. She raises the glass to sniff the contents. The faintest moan escapes her lips, and she shuts her eyes as she inhales a deeper breath through her nostrils.
"Can you smell the sea and mountains?"
