The Bourbon Kings

The roar he let out into her neck was like that of an animal, but he paid no attention to the sound. The slick hold of her sex was a sensation he felt over his entire body, and he orgasmed immediately. So long … so long, that he had dreamed of her, and regretted what had happened, and wanted to do things differently. And now he was where he had prayed to be: With every pumping release into her, he was rewinding time, putting things back to rights, repairing the wrongs.

He’d wanted to get with her to briefly take himself out of the present, but it turned out that the experience was more than that. So much more.

But that had always been true about Lizzie. He’d had sex many times in his life.

None of it had ever mattered, though … until he’d been with her.

Lizzie hadn’t meant to take things this far.

As Lane orgasmed inside of her, she was swept up along with him, her release echoing his. Fast, so fast, it was all so fast and furious, the deed done and over within moments, the pair of them remaining locked together as the initial wave passed.

Had they just done this? she wondered.

Well … yeah, she thought as he twitched inside of her.

And then she noticed … oh, God, he smelled the same. And his hair was still impossibly soft.

And his body was every bit as powerful as she remembered.

Tears speared into her eyes, and she hid her face in his shoulder. She didn’t want him to know about the emotions—she was having a hard enough time acknowledging the confusing jumble to herself.

Just sex, she told herself. This had been only about a physical craving on both sides. And God knew, the lust thing had never been a problem for them—from the instant she’d seen him yesterday, that connection of theirs had simmered under the surface of her skin.

Under his, too.

Okay. Fine. She hadn’t been able to say no in this single, discrete instance—even though she should have.

Whether or not it was a mistake was going to depend on how she handled things from here.

Pulling herself together, she eased back in his hold, acutely aware that they were still linked where it mattered most.

The expression on his face made her catch her breath. As did the way he reached up and brushed her cheek.

He seemed so vulnerable.

But before she could make some calm, reasonable, comment, he started moving deep inside of her once more. Slowly, oh, so slowly, up and out, up and out. In response, she closed her eyes and went limp, his arms supporting her, the hard wall against her back buttressing her against him. Part of her was utterly present, every movement registering with the vividness of a lightning strike, all the panting tightness of her chest and the sizzle in her blood taking over everything.

The other half of her was on the run.

Oh, God, the feel of his hand in her hair, his mouth kissing hers so deep, his hips curling up and retreating. It was coming home in all the ways that her body had wanted for so long.

And it was also bad news.

“Lizzie,” he said in a voice that cracked. “I missed you, Lizzie. So bad it hurts.”

Don’t think about it, she told herself. Don’t listen—

His name broke out of her once again, the snap of pleasure making her sex contract around his erection as he jerked into her, pumping her against that wall, banging her until her head hit.

When they fell still but for the breathing, she collapsed against him.

“This can’t be the last time,” he groaned, as if he knew what she was thinking. “It just can’t.”

“How did you know …”

“I don’t blame you.” He eased back and his heavy-lidded eyes burned. “I just don’t want this to be—”

“Lane—”

The knock on the door made her jump. And him curse.

“Fucking hell!” he spat.

And considering he wasn’t a big curse man, she had to smile a little.

“What!” he bit out.

“Mr. Baldwine,” the butler’s voice cut in. “Mr. Lodge is here for you.”

Lane frowned. “Tell him I’m busy—”

“He says it’s urgent.”

Lizzie shook her head and pushed herself out of his arms for a second time. As her feet hit the floor in silence, she got a visceral reminder that they hadn’t used a condom.

And yup, everything got very, very real as she yanked up her shorts and hustled to the bathroom. She took care of everything the best she could as Lane talked to the Englishman through the door—and when she came back out, he’d pulled his pants back up and was pacing around.

She put her palm out before he could say anything. “Go see him.”

“Lizzie—”

“If even a quarter of what you’re worried about is true? You’re going to need him.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I think we’re basically done until first thing tomorrow.”

In so many more ways than one.

“Can you stay?” he blurted.

Her brows lifted. “Stay as … you don’t mean in here for the night. That’s insane.”

In a household where staff couldn’t technically use half the doors, her waking up in the youngest son’s bed and still working at Easterly was a total non-starter.

Ah, yes, she thought. The good ol’ days of dating him, when she’d exhausted herself trying to keep everything a secret.

“Anywhere,” he said. “One of the cottages. I don’t care.”