Page 49 of Tennessee Trouble

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

Here goes…

I grab his hand, guiding him over the threshold and into my small cottage. It’s not much—a simple, one-room cabin, with a lofted bedroom and back porch that looks over Troublesome Creek. But more than anything, it’s mine. A space all to myself, where I can be and do whatever I want.

A space I just brought a near stranger to. So I can do him.

This isn’t any different than bringing him to the mining shack…

Except…it is. It feels different. Very, very different. It feels…big. Like this is an important moment—a turning point. That after this, there will be no turning back. Our one-night stand before—using fake names to hide our real selves—was one thing. We didn’t know better. Now we do.

And I still want him more than words can say. I want him with every fiber of my being.

Fuck, does that scare me.

“You seem nervous,” he comments, tugging me into him. He kisses me softly, letting it linger.

“I don’t have a lot of guests.”

“I’m honored.”

The butterflies in my chest spring back to life. Brandt’s presence in a space I’ve held sacred for myself feels natural. Easy. As if he belongs here. Something I can’t let myself think about.

I need a distraction. I also need to get him to my bedroom.

Is it too forward to just take him there?

Pressing his lips to my forehead, Brandt rocks backward, then steps around me into the kitchen. I watch, unable to take my eyes off him. Everything about him is sexy.

He opens a cabinet, then another, clearly looking for something. When he finds it, he mutters an “aha!” piquing my interest.

Spinning back around, he holds up a shot glass and the bottle of Tennessee Trouble I keep sitting on the counter. Wordlessly, he fills the glass, handing it to me.

“A little trouble before we get into some?”

I giggle. Trouble puns don’t usually do it for me—I’ve been the victim of too many bad ones over the years—but this was a good one. Or maybe it’s just Brandt.

I throw back the whiskey, enjoying the familiar taste and sweet burn as it slides down my throat. There is nothing on this earth like it. Sweet, rich, and powerful.

I hand the shot glass back to Brandt, expecting him to pour himself one. Instead, he sets it on the counter, smiling at me like he knows a secret. A really good, delicious secret.

“You’re not gonna have one?” I press.

“I’ve got a better idea.” Taking my hand, he grabs the bottle with the other and leads me out of the kitchen, bobbing and weaving around the furniture like a downhill skier avoiding the gates. “Bedroom upstairs?”

I nod, words escaping me, my heart leaping into my throat. Excitement takes over in the blink of an eye, growing with each stair we climb. My heartbeat moves along with it, beating in time with our feet on the treads, while my mind runs wild, no idea what he’s up to.

We crest the top of the stairs, immediately entering my bedroom. My duvet is a crumpled mess, the bright sunshine streaming through the windows landing on the bunched-up fabric. Had I known we’d be coming back here, I would have taken the time to straighten it. Instead, Brandt gets a front-row seat to my early morning laziness.

“Strip.”

My head whips around, my unmade bed a distant thought thanks to his command. Yes, command. There’s a strength and power to his voice that lets me know the single word was not a suggestion. It was not optional.

“What?”

Brandt steps into me, his single available hand landing on my ass and squeezing. Hard.

“Strip,” he repeats, with as much force and intensity as before. “I want you naked and spread out on the bed. Now.”