Chapter 21
I stride through the freshly renovated Crown Jewel Brew, soaking in the sleek new upgrades. The rich aroma of malted barley hangs in the air, mingling with the crisp scent of fresh lacquer and sawdust.
My fingers trail along the gleaming copper piping, admiring the intricate welds and custom fittings. State-of-the-art fermentation tanks line the far wall, their temperature-controlled interiors ready to birth my next liquid masterpiece.
A joyful giggle escapes. I almost can”t believe my eyes.
This place looks and feels like an actual brewery now—not some cobbled-together operation barely staying afloat.
All thanks to Jermaine and his... ”contributions.”
My smile falters as the word leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. Contributions sounds so sterile, so detached from the reality of what he”s done.
This total overhaul, from the brand new equipment to the freshly renovated taproom space, has been a full-scale intervention on my humble little brewery”s behalf.
And I can”t decide if I”m relieved, resentful, or just plain overwhelmed by the implications.
The Knights and Sterling have managed to course corrected. Jobs restored, micro loans offered to breweries that lost their contracts, and he didn”t return to Atlanta.
Word is…Jermaine”s buying the Duncan ranch.
Does this mean he”s returning to Madison Grove permanently?
I can”t even fathom how I feel about that.
My gaze drifts to the stacks of high-end brewing supplies still waiting to be unpacked and organized.
Top-shelf malts and hop varieties I could only dream of affording. Sleek stainless steel fermenters built to my exact specs. Even a custom-built grain mill imported from some artisanal German manufacturer.
All of it courtesy of Jermaine”s deep pockets and the small army of contractors he”s seemingly deployed on my behalf over the past few weeks.
Everywhere I turn, there are reminders of his involvement.
His fingerprints are quite literally etched into the exposed brick, the hand-stained wood accents, the modern industrial light fixtures.
Like he”s staking some unspoken claim on this space that”s always been solely mine.
A flutter of unease ripples through me at the thought. My refuge, the one place where I”ve always felt fully in control of my own destiny, has been thoroughly...Jermained.
Lavished with all the trappings of his wealth and influence in a way that should fill me with gratitude. But a nagging part of me can”t shake the sense of being co-opted, of surrendering a piece of my fierce independence to his grand gestures.
”There she is!”
The familiar rasp of Aunt Marjorie”s voice. I spin to find her striding toward me, warm brown eyes sparkling with delight.
”Aunt Marj! What are you doing here?” I break into a wide grin, the knot of tension easing as she pulls me into a tight embrace.
Aunt Mae and Momma trail behind, their faces radiant with matching expressions. Oohing and ahhing over the upgrade and how my place looks brand new.
”Would you look at this place?” Momma runs an admiring hand along the edge of the bar, dark eyes drinking in every detail. ”Londyn, baby...it”s beautiful.”
A flush of pleasure warms my cheeks at her unabashed approval. Suddenly, I”m seven years old again, preening under the weight of my mother”s attentive gaze.
”It”s amazing, baby,” Momma praises, while Aunt Mae captures my hands with a strength that belies her gentle look. ”Jermaine helped turn this into reality,” she states, and there’s no avoiding the subject of Jermaine any longer.
There it is. The elephant looming large in the middle of my newly upgraded space.
I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat. Of course they”re going to bring him up, to dissect and analyze every last nuance of Jermaine”s over-the-top philanthropy.
I try to defend myself, to say he didn”t give me a choice, but Aunt Marjorie”s words cut straight to the point. ”He”s a man with a plan, always has been,” she says, and it rings with the weight of truth.
Confronted with memories—his intensity, those promises that seared into me, that $250,000 check—I struggle to keep afloat in the storm of past and present.
Aunt Marjorie scoffs, looping an arm through mine as she guides me toward the cozy seating area. ”Honey, that man doesn”t do anything without a grand plan in mind. You should know that better than anyone.”
The words land like a calculated punch, forcing the air from my lungs in a harsh exhale. Because she”s absolutely right—Jermaine Knights has never been one for idle gestures or frivolous displays.
My stomach roils as flashes of memory assault me, unbidden.
Jermaine”s scalding kisses and murmured promises branding my skin...
The single red rose he”d present after every big exam or competition, a silent vow that he was in this thing with me for the long haul...
The devastated slump of his shoulders the last time I turned him away, effectively shattering my heart and his too.
Aunt Mae settles beside me, her hand a warm, steadying weight on my knee. ”Marj is right, you know. My son has never done anything halfway in his entire life.”
Her deep brown eyes hold a world of meaning as they bore into mine, stripping away every last pretense and excuse. Her knowing gaze anchors me.
“Isn”t it time you heard him out?” Aunt Mae questions, her tone leaving no room for evasion.
I”m tempted to think we can move beyond everything. Yet I”m wary of that optimism turning against me.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the barrage, willing away the echoes of joy and heartbreak that haunt me until I feel my mother”s presence.
I open my eyes, and it”s Momma”s concerned frown that fully draws me out of my self-imposed defenses. ”This back and forth with Jermaine... it”s not healthy,” she reflects, a deep understanding behind her words.
I open my mouth to protest, to reassure them that I”m perfectly fine. Whatever is brewing between Jermaine and me is a temporary indulgence before we go our separate ways again.
But the words shrivel on my tongue as a new thought takes shape. What if they”re right? What if there”s more to Jermaine”s actions than I”m giving him credit for?
Then a realization surfaces. They want me to hear him out because they know something I don”t.
I can”t quite form the words to agree, but my silence speaks volumes. They”re suggesting there”s more behind Jermaine”s actions, and the thought both terrifies and entices me.
I gather my strength, facing the truth. ”He has a reason behind all of it, doesn”t he?” I ask, more to myself than to them.
Their knowing looks are all I need for confirmation.
Momma presses my hand, giving a nod to her companions. ”We”ve accomplished what we came for.”
In a whirl of embraces and pecks on the cheek, they vanish as swiftly as they arrived.
”I guess I need to talk to Jermaine.”
I drag myself up the stairs to the apartment, bone-tired after a long day. The grande reopening is less than a week away and there are so many little details to wrap up.
Then I hear the light tap on the door and instantly know it”s him. My heart does a little flutter, and something inside me whispers, It”s Jermaine.
Part of me wants to ignore the knock, to give in to exhaustion and collapse into bed. But the other part—the part that still craves his warmth, his touch—won”t let me.
At the door, I pause, fingers curling around the handle as I draw in a steadying breath.
Be cool. You got this.
I open the door and Jermaine”s on the other side. He”s dressed casual in a black tee and jeans, but the man still manages to look like he stepped off the cover of GQ. His eyes roam over me in that heated way that never fails to set my pulse racing.
”Hey,” I say, hating how breathless I already sound.
Jermaine”s lips quirk in that half-smile that used to make me go weak in the knees. ”Hey yourself. You look...cozy.”
I glance down at my ratty brewery tee and lounge shorts, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks. So much for playing it cool.
”Well, this is me in my natural habitat,” I joke, gesturing to the apartment with a sheepish grin. ”Just a girl and her beer, you know?”
The words are barely out before I want to snatch them back. I cringe inwardly, I”m soooo not cool.
But Jermaine just holds my gaze, those rich brown eyes gleaming with undisguised affection. ”I”ve missed this.”
The simple admission floors me. I blink, at a loss for words as the full weight of his stare pins me in place.
Jermaine takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until I can feel the warmth radiating off his body. My pulse kicks up another notch as his woodsy cologne washes over me.
”Did you miss me too?” His voice is low and husky in a way that has me instantly flustered.
My mouth works soundlessly as I search for a response—anything to break this heavy tension settling over us. But Jermaine doesn”t give me the chance.
He reaches out, fingers skimming my cheek in a feather-light caress that has me shivering. I can”t stop the way my eyes drift shut at his touch, savoring the scorching heat of his palm against my skin.
Arousal stirs between my thighs, sharp and insistent. I shift, instinctively pressing closer to Jermaine, craving the solidity of his body against mine.
”Londyn...” The rasp of my name on his lips is enough to shatter my composure. My eyes fly open to find him staring at me with naked longing.
He leans in until his mouth is a scant breath from mine. ”Tell me to stop,” he rasps, the words a desperate plea. ”Tell me to walk away right now, and I will.”
A tremor races through me as the implication of his words sinks in. Jermaine is giving me an out, one last chance to slam on the brakes before we go hurtling down this road again.
Part of me wants to take it. To spare us both the heartache that”s sure to follow if we keep indulging these cravings.
But one look into those smoldering eyes, and I know I”m powerless to resist. I ache for him with every fiber of my being—mind, body, and soul.
So I stay silent, holding his stare in a heated challenge.
A low rumble vibrates from Jermaine”s chest—part groan, part growl. Then his mouth is on mine, slanting hot and demanding as he kisses me with bruising intensity.
I whimper into the searing embrace, my nails digging into the hard planes of his biceps. Jermaine angles his head, his tongue sweeping past my lips to deepen the kiss in a way that has me melting against him.
This. This is what I”ve been missing.
The scorching heat, the dizzying passion, the way he strips away every last shred of composure until I”m reduced to a quivering mess in his arms.
His hands roam freely over my body, until creep up my oversized shirt. Touching my bare skin.
I arch into his touch, whimpering at the delicious friction of his fingers kneading my breasts through the sports bra.
It”s too much and not nearly enough all at once. Need, sharp and insistent, claws at my insides until I”m squirming against Jermaine”s solid frame.
He breaks the kiss, and we”re both left panting, our ragged breaths intermingling in the charged space between us.
Jermaine rests his forehead against mine, eyes glittering with undisguised hunger.
”Fuck, I want you,” he growls. The raw need in his tone soaks my panties and suddenly I want him inside me.
My tongue darts out to wet my swollen lips. ”Then take me,” I breathe, uncaring of how wrecked I sound. ”I”m yours, Jermaine.”
A low groan rumbles up from his chest as he surges forward again. This time, there”s no finesse or restraint—just pure, primal need as his mouth slants over mine in a branding kiss.
Stumbling through the doorway, we”re a tangle of limbs, our hands frantic on buttons and zippers, desperate to rid ourselves of the barriers between us.
Jermaine kicks the door shut behind us, and then I”m pinned against the wall, his hips grinding against mine in delicious torment.
The cool plaster is a shock against my overheated skin, but I barely register the sensation. I”m utterly consumed by the slide of Jermaine”s body, the scorching path of his lips trailing down my throat. And the thickness of his dick sliding between my folds.
”Missed this,” he rasps against the hollow of my neck. ”Missed the way you feel, the way you taste...”
His hands roam freely, caressing every inch of exposed skin. I keen softly, surrendering to the onslaught of sensation as wave after wave of pleasure crests over me.
I”m about to embarrass myself. It”s been too long and just the glide of his head over my clit has me about to come.
A low chuckle rumbles against my chest. ”That”s it, baby. Let go for me.”
The endearment sends a fresh shiver of need through me. I tangle my legs around Jermaine”s waist, rocking my hips chasing that little death.
”Please,” I whimper, hips canting in silent entreaty. ”I need you inside me. Now.”
Jermaine lifts his head, dark eyes glittering with a predatory edge that has my core clenching hard.
”Your wish,” he rumbles, ”is my command.”
He drive into me and I cry out in utter pleasure until his mouth is on mine again, stealing my breath in a searing kiss.
I lose myself in the scorching slide of his tongue, in the exquisite friction of his body undulating against me.
This. Him. It”s everything I”ve been denying myself for far too long.
And in this moment, with Jermaine”s hands and lips branding every inch of my skin, I know I”ll never get enough.
Never…