Page 94 of Fall is Brewing

He kisses every inch he can reach: my jaw, my throat, the hinge of my shoulder. The sharp scent of wood and autumn sap swirls under the deeper musk of sweat and cider, making my whole body feel drunk on something wilder than alcohol.

“Harder,” I cry, my voice cracking like a snapped twig. “Brooks, please.”

He obeys, driving into me with a force that sends the ladle shelf rattling against the wall.

“God, you’re incredible,” he mutters into my hair, his pace stuttering as I clench around him.

It’s just friction and heat and pressure, turned up and up until I’m clawing his back and biting my own wrist to keep from crying out loud enough to alert the entire orchard.

The orgasm builds so fast I have almost no warning—just a strange tightening, a gathering of sensation that starts in my toes and ricochets up my spine.

He answers with a ragged groan, and all at once neither of us is quiet, or careful. My body pulls taut, every muscle bracing for impact as I tip headlong into something hot and endless and entirely out of my control. I clutch at his body, leverage myself against his hips, ride out the wild, animal shock of release while he buries himself deeper than before, grinding in circles that make me see stars.

He shudders, grip fierce on my hips as I clench down around him, the pressure so intense it nearly blanks me out. I shake apart over him, a bright, shattering pulse that digs out a whimper from somewhere deep in my chest. He lets go at the exact same moment, a curse punched through his teeth, and I feel the thick, guttural pulse of him buried in me, even through the latex, the primal heat of it making me clutch him closer instead of letting go.

He holds me for a few seconds or maybe forever. There’s nothing left in my brain but sparks and the salt of his skin pressed flush to mine, our bodies locked together, legs trembling, lungs scraping for breath. At length, I open my eyes. I’m not sure when I closed them—somewhere between my second orgasm and his, I think maybe I left reality for a full minute.

Brooks is staring down at me, dazed and reverent, like he’s seen a ghost and it’s the only miracle he ever wanted to witness. He brushes a thumb across my cheekbone, then pulls back, just enough to check my face as if making sure I’m really here and haven’t blinked out into nothingness.

I try to say something clever, something to light the mood, but all I manage is a laugh.

I smooth a hand through my hair, only realizing too late that I’ve nearly lost the tie keeping it in a braid. “Wow,” I say. My voice sounds like I’ve just run a mile. “That was⁠—”

He catches my chin gently. “Yeah. It was.”

I let myself look at him—really look at him, take in the spots of color on his cheekbones and the uncertain curve of his mouth. “We could be in so much trouble,” I murmur.

“Could be?” He slides his thumb along my jaw, and my eyes flutter closed again. “We’re already there.” After a pause, he adds, “Mostly because I forgot to lock the door.”

My eyes go wide. “Brooks!”

With another soft kiss, he chuckles and bends to hand me my clothes back. We both quickly dress, me glancing at the door every two seconds, terrified Jace or Evan or god forbid a random customer might wander in.

I wrap my hands around the collar of his flannel, tugging his mouth to mine once more. “Can I use your restroom?”

He smiles and brushes a strand of hair out of my face. “Of course. You know where it is.”

I press my lips together and slowly shake my head. “Actually, can I use your bathroom at the house? I want to… um, clean up a little so I don’t go home smelling like… well, you.”

His eyes go wide and knowing as he nods. “Ah. Yes, of course.” He starts to grab some of his things, packing up his bag.

“Aren’t you still working on the competition batch?”

He gives me a weary nod. “Yeah, but I can come back down here in a bit.”

“You stay and work. I’ll just be fifteen minutes. I’m not fully showering, it just feels weird to clean this up in your tasting room bathroom… if you know what I mean.”

He smiles as I slide down off the barrel. “I know what you mean.”

As I’m heading toward the door, Brooks grabs a stack of labels and groans. His jaw tightens, and he exhales sharply through his nose before muttering something under his breath. "Damn."

"What?" I ask, straightening from where I'm holding the doorknob.

He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking toward the window like he can somehow see the cabin from here. "I left tomorrow's gravity log up at the cabin. I was updating it this morning before we opened. I need it before I finish the competition batch."

I smile. "Well, it’s a good thing I’m heading to the cabin, then. I can grab it for you."

His head comes up immediately. "You don't mind?”