But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Hunter is worth a shot. Or two. He better line them up, because after tonight, I’m never drinking again.
Hunter brought the cold glass bottle to my lips, and I closed my eyes to better appreciate the flavor.
“Mmmmm.” Hints of caramel, a touch of cinnamon, and was that…nutmeg? I licked my lips. “Tastes like autumn.”
“Next,” Hunter said softly. There was a clink as he set down the bottle, and another as he picked the second one up. Then that cool glass was against my warm mouth again, and I shivered as I felt his breath ghost against the back of my neck. I could practically feel the heart radiating off his body behind me. A drop of condensation slipped down the neck of the bottle, rolling down the fevered skin of my neck.
Oh, right, the beer. I took a gulp, hoping the cool liquid would calm my disordered thoughts. No such luck—but it was delicious, strongly hoppy this time, notes of lime and orange and vanilla, with a peppery finish. “Damn, that’s good. It’s like spring!”
“I’m glad you like it,” Hunter murmured. His arm encircled my waist—no, he was just reaching for another bottle, no, that was his other hand, this one was definitely resting on my waist, lightly, just above my hipbone.
I didn’t dare open my eyes, for fear I would find I was only dreaming.
“Another?” Hunter invited.
“Yes please.” My voice was a whisper, hoarse with desire I hoped he couldn’t hear.
And there it came, his gentle hands guiding it to my mouth, the smooth glass with its beads of moisture kissing my skin, and that that ambrosia sliding slowly down my throat: brown sugar and anise and a hint of…chocolate.
“Ooooooh,” I moaned in appreciation. I licked my lips.
And heard a sharp intake of breath from Hunter. “You like that?” he whispered.
“So much,” I replied, feeling the heat in my body gather itself tight and low.
Even with my eyes closed I was vividly aware of how close he was standing to me; I could smell him, hear each breath he took. His hand on my waist seemed to grip a fraction tighter, wrinkling the fabric of my dress—the hand holding the bottle seemed to tremble slightly, I could feel his breath ruffling my hair as he bent closer, those warm lips only inches from—
My eyes burst open and I almost leapt away from him. We didn’t have time for sexual tension! That was what had gotten us into trouble in the first place. My mind fluttered rapidly over possible topics of redirection.
It was difficult. It mostly wanted to think of Hunter shirtless.
Maybe pantsless too.
Amazon bestselling author, queen of the short-reads, and expert at playdough, Lila Monroe loves to read and write tales of sexy Billionaires. Combining her love of writing, sex and well-fitted suits, Lila Monroe wrote her first serial, The Billionaire Bargain. Lila enjoys writing, as it gives her a flexible schedule to spend time with her kids and a wonderful excuse to avoid them. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, who strips out of his well-fitted suits nightly.