WHISKEY
KISSES by Addison Moore
May 2014
3:AM Kisses, #4
Izzy Sawyer has always been the it
girl. She believes she’s the last person on earth who deserves a happily ever
after. Holt Edwards has always been the player that women voluntarily fall to
their knees for. When it comes to love, Holt doesn’t believe in fairytale
endings.
When Izzy dives back into the dating
pool, Holt is right there, ready and willing, to offer tips and tricks to get
her through an entire army of blind dates—starting with a bone melting
demonstration on how to deliver mouthwatering kisses.
One thing leads to whiskey and Izzy
is starting to think happily ever after doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Holt
is starting to rethink his stance on fairytale endings.
But Izzy has a secret that has
turned her world upside down. Holt has a secret of his own that cost him far
more than he ever bargained for.
Sometimes life doesn’t give you the
happily ever after. Sometimes it’s best to leave fairytale endings on the
bookshelf where they belong.
Izzy can’t stop thinking about Holt.
Holt can’t seem to quit his favorite
new addiction—Izzy.
The mercury is rising—secrets are
percolating—and their lust for one another is just about to detonate.
Izzy needs just one more hit of Holt
and his late night Whiskey kisses, but deep down she knows that will never be
enough. She wants all of him—every bone melting kiss he ever has to offer.
Izzy wants Holt
Holt worships Izzy.
Summer in Hollow Brook just heated
up.
Sparks are flying.
Together Izzy and Holt are
unstoppably electric.
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(Holt’s POV, Izzy and Holt at the bar)
“Yes, Holt, I still live with my mother.” Izzy’s
lips curl with a sour smile, and even then she looks cute as hell.
“Nothing wrong with that.” I make my way over and
feel the air stifling. I’ve always felt as if a damn inferno was about to break
out between us, and I can’t for the life of me understand how this could be
one-sided. Then again, I’m probably not in her league, so the entire inferno
scenario is solely in my pants. Izzy is one of those untouchable girls reserved
for the cream of the crop of which I’m the bottom of the barrel. “You might
live with your mother, but I work at a bar. The end.”
“What’s this?” Her eyes brighten the exact shade
of a sunny afternoon, and my cock is back to begging to be let out to play.
Sorry, boy, this is one girl who will most likely never roll out the red carpet
for you. “Are you trying to crash my pity party?”
“Consider it busted.” I grab a glass and fill it
with ice. “Any drink. It’s on me.”
“In that case, water.”
“How about wine?” I’d uncork a bottle of the best
vintage I have in stock for Izzy.
“No thanks, I don’t really drink all that much.
Sorry about the whiskey.” She bites down on her cotton candy pink lip, and my
gut starts to liquefy. Holy shit. Now I see why the universe never has us
together more than once a year. I’d be a dead man if given a few more run-ins.
“No drinking, huh? I have the power to change
that if you like.” I’d rearrange the solar system for Izzy if she wanted.
“I’m good.” She gives a sideways smile, and my
head tilts in line with it. Damn. I’ve always wondered why my brother acted
like a complete idiot around his girlfriend, Baya, and now I know—it can’t be
helped. When you find the one it’s simply a knee-jerk reaction. Only I’m not
Izzy’s one, and that explains why she’s looking at me like I’m some sort
of bartending psychopath. “Anyway, I usually never touch the stuff, unless, of
course, it’s a special occasion, and, even then, I’m stuck on whiskey.” She
nods back to the table that holds her abandoned drink.
“Whiskey can be a tough place to start.” It takes
everything in me not to dive across the counter and shove my face in her neck
just to see if she smells as good as I remember—sugar and spice and everything
very fucking nice.
“Yeah, my dad—it was his signature drink. Most
men prefer beer but not my father.” She glances down at the counter and traces
out a figure eight. “So what’s new with you? Heard you just graduated. Your
brother is getting hitched soon. Where’s your significant other? She around?”
Izzy pans the facility with those glowing eyes, and it makes my balls ache. All
right, so my balls ache for her regardless, and it forces me to defer to my
favorite lifelong mantra when I’m around her—just breathe—because, holy hell,
Izzy Sawyer is beautiful. That’s exactly what I used to remind myself each time
I dropped Annie off and picked her up—breathe. If there’s one woman who can
take my breath away each and every time, it’s Izzy. Always has been, always
will.
Bryson nods to me from the far end of the bar as
he picks up my slack.
“No significant other here.” I try not to infer
some underlying motive. The last thing I want to do is hit on Izzy as if she
were just another barfly. “So I heard Laney.” I try not to come across as an
ass for listening in. “Sounds like you’re about to hit the ground running.”
“Ha!” She belts out a short-lived laugh. “As in
running in the other direction. I doubt my Mr. Right is lurking in the mess
she’s about to sling my way.”
I slide a glass of water to her, and she’s quick
to play with the straw. Her long, perfect fingers coil over the tip, each nail
painted a bright cherry red. For a second I imagine plunging each one into my
mouth, sucking her down before biting the tips ever so gently.
“Holt?” She catches my gaze.
“Yeah.” Shit. Way to let her know you care.
“See? I can’t even hold your attention. I’m about
as exciting as watching paint dry. Anyway”—she hops down, and my heart breaks
as she steps away from the bar—“I’m out of practice. I wouldn’t even know what
to say to someone.”
“I can help with that.” My heart rattles around
in my chest unsure of what the hell I’m about to say next. “And, I promise,
you’re anything but boring. Any guy would be lucky to have you.” Especially
this one.
She shakes her head without thinking twice.
“Trust me, I’m a charity case you want nothing to do with.”
“Come by tomorrow night at seven, and I’ll walk
you through the basics. You’ll be a pro by the time Laney sends you out into
the cold, cruel world of dating. By the time I’m done, you’ll have to fight
them off with all four limbs. I’ll teach you everything and anything you’ve
ever wanted to learn.” I steady my gaze over hers, and my heart aches because a
part of me wishes she could see right through the charade I’m putting on. “You
in?”
Her eyes widen, and she goes away for a moment.
“All right. I’m in.” She sighs as she takes a
step away. “I’ll swing by at seven. Bring your pillow. You’ll need it once I
put you to sleep.” She gives a little wink and heads off toward her sister. I
watch as she sways those perfect hips, back and forth, back and forth.
A hand glides in front of my face, and I find
Bryson standing there with a shit-eating grin.
“Sawyer still has you pussy whipped?”
“That about says it.” I fling the dishtowel over
my shoulder and watch as she embraces Laney before taking off. “Scored a date,
too.”
“More like a training session.” That goofy grin
slides off his face. “Heard the whole thing.”
“Yeah, so what. I’d stand on my head and eat a
bag of dog food if she wanted me to just as long as I could spend a few extra
minutes with her.”
“All hail Queen Izzy” He leans over the bar and
looks from the empty doorway to me for a second. “Dude, are you going for the
gold?” His demeanor shifts from playful to downright worried. “She’s into
thirty-year-olds and shit. You’re a glorified teenager in her eyes.”
“Doesn’t bother me. So she’s a few years
older—five to be exact. And who the hell cares? Isn’t Dad’s newest squeezebox
fifteen years his junior?” Or so he claims, we’ve yet to meet her. It makes me
sick to think about it. Not the age difference—I’m still stuck on the fact he
left my mother five years ago. I try to brush the memory from my mind. It was
me who played a major role in their breakup, and I’ve hated myself for it ever
since.
“I don’t know.” Bryson’s gaze is still fixed at
the far end of the bar. “I’d layoff if I were you.”
“Would you have listened if I told you to layoff
Baya? Hell, if I remember right, her brother told you just that, and it was the
last thing you did.”
“So you think she’s your Baya, huh?” He huffs a
quiet laugh. “I bet you a thousand bucks she’s not your Baya. I seriously doubt
she’s going to give you the time of day let alone stick around long enough to
stroke your ego or anything else, big bro.” He swallows hard as if he’s trying
to let me down easy. I know for a fact he threw in that big bro comment to
soften the blow. Every now and again he likes to flaunt the fact I’ve got
fifteen minutes on him. “Look, I don’t want to see you voluntarily putting your
heart in a blender. I care about you. Let me set you up with someone. It’ll be
easy. They’re already lining up around the block for you.” He motions at the
crowd of girls amassing at the far end of the bar. “Pick one. They’re all dying
to fall at your feet.”
“I’ll pass. And I’ll pass on the bet. Don’t you
worry your pretty little head over where I put my heart.” I’d let Izzy rip it
out of my body and stomp on it with her pink ballet heel if she wanted. Hell,
I’d encourage her to do it—hold it down for her.
I’d give Izzy anything—any part of me she wanted.
Both Bryson and I know that.
My heart in a blender is just the first thing I’d
offer.
And, if she’ll let me, I’ll throw in a whole lot
more.
Addison
Moore is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who writes contemporary and
paranormal romance. Her work has been featured in Cosmopolitan magazine. Previously she worked for nearly a decade as
a therapist on a locked psychiatric unit. She resides with her husband, four
wonderful children, and two dogs on the West Coast where she eats too much
chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing, she's reading.
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