Whiskey Sharp: Jagged. Lauren Dane

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      “Yes.”

      “I think I did all the things I was expected to. I helped people in trouble in my job. I had a fiancé who had a very good job and very nice teeth.”

      “Always important,” he said to make her snicker.

      “Anyway, it was a good life. I don’t want to make it seem like before I was taken I hated my situation. It was a life I was happy in. And then something happened and turned it all upside down. A lot of things weren’t strong enough to survive the carnage. But some of those, like the fiancé, weren’t quite what I believed they were from the start.

      “And after I’d come through it all, after everything insubstantial had burned away, I started a different life. And I wasn’t nice anymore.”

      He ate as he got himself back together. She unraveled him. Not something he was entirely comfortable with.

      “Okay. I can see that.” Though he thought she was pretty damned nice, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her what she felt and who she was. “What are you doing this weekend? I’ve got both days off and I was thinking of a hike up at Tiger Mountain. It’ll be cold, but clear. Have you hiked it?”

      “No, but it’s on my list.”

      “It’s not super strenuous, but a good workout. I promise to take it easy on you.”

      She snorted. “How do you know you won’t need it the other way around?”

      “Who says I want you to take it easy? Maybe I like it hard.”

      He hadn’t meant to say it. Or maybe he did but he hadn’t meant it to sound so very suggestive.

      But she wasn’t offended. Not at all, unless he was misreading the way her eyelids went half-mast.

      “Perhaps I like it hard too.”

      Holy shit. What the hell was he supposed to do with that image? Except think about how to make it reality.

      “I think we need hot chocolate. And a fire,” he said around a suddenly thick tongue. “I even have the supplies to make whipped cream for it. I’ll walk you home afterward.”

      * * *

      SHE SHOULD HAVE said no but she didn’t.

      Instead, he tucked her up on his couch and made them both hot chocolate with fresh whipped cream while she basked in the heat of the fire and watched him.

      His house was the same sort of tri-level ranch house their neighborhood was dotted with, but with a modern touch. Dark wood floors with burnished steel. The overstuffed couch she was on was plush and deep green with nail head accents.

      It was a decidedly chic, adult space. Classic. Sophisticated. He was way more than she’d expected. Her mistake really, she should have paid better attention. But naturally she got caught up in that face of his.

      She was only human, after all.

      “So tell me about your favorite tattoo lately,” he said as he joined her.

      “That I’ve given?”

      He nodded.

      “I’m still giving it. A half sleeve. It’s a cardinal. Full color.” She indicated the way the bird lay around the curve and muscle of the upper arm. “Wings open. There’s a lot of fine line work with the feathers.”

      “What about it makes you so proud of it?”

      She thought awhile about the exact words to use. “It takes a steady hand. It’s scary at first when you’re inking someone. This is a big piece. A mistake is forever. I was nervous but since I just jumped and did it, it’s turning out really awesome.”

      “You’re a risk taker.”

      “Not so much anymore.”

      “Making art is taking risk. You create something and throw it out there to rise or fall. That takes guts. And tattooing is forever. Well, there’s cover-ups and removal but you know what I mean.”

      “I do.” She hadn’t thought of it like that but he was sort of right. “You’ve got the heart of a poet.”

      “Evie says the same. I can’t see it.”

      Without thinking about it, she reached out and pulled his hair free to tumble down. “You even have the hair and the face of a fallen angel.” It had been intended to tease but damn it if it wasn’t true.

      “I tell myself I’m going to keep it slow and easy and then you go and say things like that. So delicious, right here under my nose for three years. You’d think after three years I’d have more chill, but I don’t.”

      She drew a shaky breath. “I really shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be telling you all this stuff and thinking about how you kiss. There’s something about you, Vic. I say things I don’t intend to. I want things I shouldn’t. It scares the hell out of me.”

      It was only the second date, but it was way deeper than that. They’d been developing a relationship for years and it seemed like now that they’d finally stepped into this new romantic thing between them, the intimacy had sharpened.

      After years of living a very pared-down life, focused on herself and surviving, it was tender, nearly raw to let someone as close to her as she found herself doing with Vic.

      “I’m not that person. I make good choices. I’m responsible. I pay my bills on time and I turn the water off when I’m brushing my teeth,” she told him.

      He put his mug down, taking hers as well before turning back to her and enfolding her hands with his own.

      “Are you suggesting I’m a bad choice?” he asked, teasing.

      “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

      He leaned closer, touching his lips to her cheek quickly. “You have an amazing butt and anything you wear makes it look great.”

      “You’re not a bad choice.” Especially when he said stuff like that. “I’m just being weird. I did warn you. Let’s make out.”

      His smirk told her he knew she was changing the subject and also that he was down with a lot of kissing.

      He pulled her closer and then into his arms, crosswise over his lap. She squirmed just enough to get a lay of the land, so to speak.

      Well now. There was some big country going on.

      With a growl, he cupped her jaw, turning her to angle her mouth just how he wanted it. Their first kisses the day before had been sweet and sexy. But this...this was an utter devastation.

      He nipped and nibbled, licked and sucked every part of her mouth until she was a warm puddle of purring woman, arms around his neck to keep from drowning in him.

      He branded himself all over her. The heat of his hands—one splayed on her thigh, СКАЧАТЬ