Page 40 of Brands

Her puffy mouth forms a pout, then rises into a sly smile. “But somewhere, though. That’s better than ‘never’.”

“I think I may have lost the battle to a hurricane named Libby.” I pat her hip.

The realization of where I am cools the heat in my blood. “And he may walk in at any moment. Where do you think the beer came from?”

She glances behind her to the two remaining bottles in the pack, making a perfect “O” with her lips. “Shit. Dad only drinks when something big happens.”

When she stands up, I can feel the damp spot on my thigh from where she soaked through our layers of denim.

God, that makes my nuts ache.

Damn it, doing the right thing is ten times harder now that I’ve had a taste of her. “You can tell me about your investors later. I think you might want to talk to him first.”

I’m an idiot.

I could be balls deep in her wet little pussy.

Why am I encouraging her to leave?

Clay has no idea the sacrifices I’m making for him.

Her bottom lip rolls between her teeth as she glances towards the door. “Okay, but just one more.” She reaches for my chest, but I’m quicker. Rising to tower over her, I pull her into me, pouring every ounce of longing into the urgency of my kiss.

I want her to know I’m ready.

That I’m past the doubt and worry.

I’m willing to dive into the shadows with her.

Holding her body to mine, I mold her to me like I did that day on the dancefloor, until we’re pressed so tightly, we’re almost one.

Not yet, but soon.

When I pull away, I think she takes a piece of me with her.

“I don’t know what I did to convince you, but I’m glad it worked.” She gives me a crooked grin.

Loosening her ponytail, she threads the tie around her hair, smoothing it into place. “How’s that?” She tilts her head.

“Perfect.” I know she won’t be back today.

Once Clay fills her in, she won’t want to see me.

But now that the floodgates have been opened, I know this little sample won’t be enough…for either of us.

Chapter Fourteen

Libby

“What do you meanshe has to go?” I fight back the tears that threaten to spill.

I know they won’t do any good, and that makes it worse.

“Millie’s one of the older ones, Lib. Her production is due to drop. Better to get rid of her now then when she’s worth less. I’m sorry.” Dad’s mouth tilts into a lopsided frown.

It’s his expression for “done arguing”.

“I found an investor,” I say quietly. I didn’t want to drop that bomb until I had everything wrapped up.

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