Chapter 22
twenty-two
OWEN
The stillhouse was ours after dark. Copper gleamed like a row of metal giants, and the air held the gentle scent of malt and oak. I killed the main lights, leaving only the ones directly above the cask I’d set up remaining.
A little pool of gold in a sea of shadow.
‘All right, bartender,’ Claire said, wrapping her sweater dress tighter around herself. ‘Impress me.’
‘That’s the plan, city girl,’ I said. ‘Isla says we need a cocktail menu that shows off our whisky for the Autumn fair, and seeing as the closest thing to a cocktail at the Tipsy Otter is a vodka and Coke, we need your expertise. If we can get them right, Kenny will let us supplement the evening ceilidh too. Something that looks delicious and tastes even better. Much like you.’
She laughed, the sound bouncing off the vast walls.
‘You’re a flirt, Owen Harris.’
‘Only with you.’
I laid out the bottles like a lineup: our five-year-old for mixing, the sherry cask for depth, a ginger syrup I’d made last Christmas, lemon, bitters, honey, a crate of soda, and a jar of maraschino cherries Isla had banned from the kitchen due to the preservatives.
‘We’ll start classic,’ I said, reaching for the shaker. ‘Or at least, the internet told me it’s a classic. Old Fashioned. Whisky Sour. Highball glass. You tell me what you think.’
‘I reserve the right to request drinkable glitter,’ she said.
‘Denied. Dad would be appalled.’
I made the first round while she monitored, chin on her knuckles and elbows on the edge of the next barrel over. Those pretty blue eyes were watching me as I measured and stirred. Her stare had me flustered, not wanting to mess up and disappoint her.
‘Taste,’ I said, holding the glass to her lips, watching the thick white foam stick to her sweet smile.
She took the daintiest sip known to man. I waited on tenterhooks, then her eyes brightened. ‘It’s perfect. Best I’ve tasted. You’d put any cocktail bar to shame.’
‘Really? You’re not just buttering me up to seduce me?’
‘Well, I wasn’t… but I could be tempted.’
‘Brat.’
‘Always,’ Claire grinned.
She twisted her hair around a finger and licked the foam from her lips.
I reached for the next glass before I lost control and abandoned the cocktails altogether.
She was there to help, not to be kissed senseless in a warehouse.
I added honey to the ginger syrup and shook it with ice until the shaker grew frosty.
I popped a soda can and added it to the syrup mixture in a tall glass.
‘Festival-friendly. One hand for dancing, one for holding on to me when the ceilidh gets feral.’
‘I don’t know how to ceilidh,’ she said, but her gaze had dropped to my mouth.
‘I’ll teach you, and in a village, you basically just need to hold on and let everyone throw you around. Now taste.’
She did. ‘Very refreshing. It’s got a real zing with the ginger. I could drink ten and end up eloping with the bartender.’
‘Not on my watch. Unless I’m the bartender…’
‘You want to elope with me?’ There was a joking lilt to her voice, but the idea still made my insides light up.
‘I could be convinced.’
‘Keep the cocktails coming then, Mr Harris.’
We worked through three more ideas. She judged each one with a seriousness it didn’t need, but that made me smile. When she suggested some crushed thyme in one cocktail, it made it a multitude of times better.
‘You’re good at this,’ I said.
‘Bossing you about?’
‘Making things better.’
Something in her went tender at that, like I’d soothed a part of her that was raw.
‘Right.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Final contenders. Sour, highball, and…’
‘Something smoky,’ she said, nudging the sherry-cask bottle with one finger. ‘You smell all woody and manly like this after work. It’s…’
She paused, hunting for the right word. ‘Do you mind if I…’
Taking my wrist, she brought it to her face, sniffing the inside as if I were a dram. I nearly fell through the floor.
‘Claire.’
‘Sorry.’ She blushed, not sounding sorry, and not moving my hand away. ‘Tell me about this one.’
‘Sherry oak aged and dried fruit notes. A whisper of smoke. Better to keep it short, but we can add smoke on top. Maybe not for the ceilidh, too fiddly. But during the festival…’
‘Then keep it short.’ Claire cut me off, and I was no longer sure we were talking about drinks.
I created a small stirred cocktail with bitters and the sherry finish that smelled like a glass of autumn. I tasted it, then held the edge of the glass to her mouth. She didn’t reach out. She opened her mouth salaciously and let me dribble the whisky into her mouth. The tiniest amount.
Fuck.
‘Well?’ My voice thickened as she swallowed.
She shivered. ‘You spilt a little.’
‘Did I?’ I hadn’t.
‘Mmm. Will you help clean me up?’
I set the glass down because I couldn’t trust myself not to drop it.
She was half in shadow, her red hair drifting around her shoulders.
The sweater dress slid off one shoulder, tempting me with an expanse of skin.
The air around us buzzed, and I couldn’t decide if it was the atmosphere or desire thrumming in my skull.
My pulse quickened as Claire fixed me with a positively devilish look.
‘Claire.’
‘Yes, Owen?’
‘Come here.’
She didn’t need to be told twice, obeying with a grin. I slipped my hands around her waist, and she stood on her toes, searching for my mouth with hers. Whisky clung to her tongue, and it made her taste all the more like home.
I broke a fraction to breathe, and she chased me for more. A tiny noise in her throat that made me flex my hands, gripping her tighter.
I lifted her onto the edge of the cask because I wanted her closer. The bottles clinked beside us, crowded with the half-full glasses and her perfect arse.
She hooked her ankles behind me and pulled my body flush to hers. I spread one hand at the base of her spine and the other tipped her jaw.
‘You’re trembling,’ she whispered against my lips.
‘So are you.’ I peppered her throat with a half-dozen kisses.
‘Equal opportunities.’
I reached for the Sour, that line of foam still clinging to the rim. An idea, probably a terrible one, hit me. I tipped the glass just enough to wet my finger and drew a wet stripe along her collarbone. She startled, then moaned so softly that it stole my breath.
‘Too far?’ I asked.
‘Not far enough,’ she teased, arching her back to present herself better.
I couldn’t hold back. I slide my tongue over her skin, letting the light salt of her skin mix with the whisky on my tongue.
The best cocktail possible. I continued at the hollow at the base of her throat, the edge where the jumper stopped and heated skin began.
I followed each swipe with my mouth, greedy, but attempting to restrain my hunger.
Her hands found their way into my hair, and the steadying grip drove me to a higher level of desire.
‘If you want me to stop—’ I teased when she tugged my hair.
‘Don’t you dare,’ she threatened.
‘You drive me wild, Claire.’ I kissed my way across the throat. ‘The way you laugh. The way you smile. The way you haven’t hesitated to help around here. You’re smart, and funny, and beautiful…’
I trailed my mouth lower. She made a tiny, helpless sound as I tugged her dress lower, and slipped an ice cube into my mouth. The world narrowed to pure sensation. To the intake of her breath as I fit my ice-cold tongue over her nipple.
‘Oh my god, Owen,’ Claire squeaked.
I didn’t need to hide behind the rope anymore. All I needed was Claire. The way her fingers slid over my scalp when the pleasure rolled through her. She moaned until she giggled, and the ice had entirely melted in my mouth.
I stood and kissed that laugh right out of her mouth, until it morphed into delirious, lusty whimpers. When I pulled back, she pressed her forehead to mine.
‘Owen,’ her voice cracked. ‘How am I going to get through the fair. I’m going to get wet whenever I see whisky.’
‘Mmm, now that’s what I’ll have in mind, and I’ll have to hide the tent I’ll have in my kilt.’
‘Speaking of tents…’ I dug my hardness against her, enjoying the way it made her eyes widen.
‘Are you going to let me taste you again?’ Claire asked, reaching down to graze her fingertips over me.
‘As much as I’d love that, I was hoping to give you what you’ve been craving.’
Claire’s pupils blew. ‘You’re ready?’
‘Darling, I can’t stay away from you. And break my heart or not, I can’t imagine never feeling you come around my cock.’
‘I don’t intend to break anything other than your willpower, Owen.’
‘You’ve smashed that already. Let’s go to the house and we can get some—’
‘Fuck me here,’ she whispered. ‘And I’m on the pill. Marty and I never went without protection…’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I want to feel all of you. Every ridge and every drop.’
Heat coiled in my stomach. No, lower. We tugged off our clothing, dumping them on the floor in an impassioned hurry. The low light framed her perfection in soft orange, and she whimpered when I gathered her against me. I nudged her heat with my hardness, taunting her until she begged.
‘Owen… give it to me.’
‘I will, you demanding little thing. But first I need to warm you up.’
‘I’m practically on fire.’
I lifted a glass and pushed her back, spreading her thighs wide on the barrel top. She gleamed wet and delicious, and it took every ounce of restraint not to sink to the hilt immediately.
Instead, I tipped the glass and sent a waterfall of whisky cascading over her sweet cunt.
‘My favourite woman, and my favourite whisky. How can I resist a taste?’
I bent, grabbing her hips tight and pulling her against my tongue. I ate like a man possessed, slipping my tongue over her heated flesh until she cried out, gripping my hair in tight fists.
‘More,’ I growled, sucking her clit into my mouth and lifting her hips to give me more access.
Claire writhed against my face until she neared her peak. Only then did I pull back and position the swollen head of my cock at her entrance. I fought the throbbing urge to slide inside her. But the desperate look on her face was worth the delay.
‘Tell me how badly you want my cock, Claire.’
‘It’s all I can think about. I need you. All of you.’
I ran the head over her, from entrance to clit, swirling both until she quivered.
‘Owen, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me, I’m going to scream loud enough that the whole village will come to see what’s happening.’
‘Is this what you want?’ I asked, sliding the tip of my head inside her at a glacial pace.
‘God, yes.’ Her eyes closed, and her mouth formed a loose O shape. I steadied myself against her, holding eye contact as I filled her. Inch by inch, I lost myself in her wet heat until I finally sank to the hilt.
‘Fuck, Claire.’ I let out a stuttering groan.
‘No, Owen, fuck me.’
And in that one demand, I fell head over heels without restraint.