Chapter 20

                                    

                                          
Taking the first sip of my third Old Fashioned of the night, I glanced aside. The mouthwateringly masculine man next to me brought the tiny glass of bourbon to his nose, breathing in.
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
Malcolm smirked, and my heart skipped a beat, "Hey, if I'm only getting one, I may as well make it count."
"But sniffing it?"
He shrugged, "Gives me a chance to appreciate the craftsmanship."
I felt my eyes narrow. "Bullshit."
Grinning, he rested the miniature snifter against his mouth, "I mean, it might also make me feel fancy, but it does add to the experience."
Trying not to stare at the way his lips caressed the glass, I asked, "How so?"
"Well, it lets me know what to expect. For instance," he closed his eyes and breathed in, savoring the aroma, "This one's giving hints of vanilla, molasses and..." he frowned, "mint?"
Eyeing him skeptically, I held my hand out, "Let me try."
Malcolm passed it over, the glass still warm from his hand.
Bringing it below my nose, I inhaled, trying to find something beneath the acrid burn of the liquor.
Nothing.
Determined, I sniffed again, and this time...
"Definitely mint." I muttered.
"You think so?"
I nodded. "Positive."
Relinquishing the glass, I handed it back to him, watching as he breathed in again, smiling.
Finally tipping his glass back for a sip, Malcolm made a deep sound of appreciation as the bourbon coated his tongue.
Dear god...
"Good?" I asked in a voice that was huskier than it had been a moment ago.
Malcolm nodded, eyes closing as he swallowed.
Helpless, I felt my eyes drawing down, watching the subtle motions of his throat, wondering what he would taste like there...
Stop it - you stop that right now!
Looking away, I reflexively took another sip of my Old Fashioned.
Yeah, drink more. That'll keep you from jumping his bones.
My focus drifted, envisioning what going to bed with Malcolm would be like, how he would taste, how he would feel...
His gravelly voice interrupted my licentious imagination. "So, thoughts?"
"About what?" I cleared my throat as my treacherous stare found him again.
"About us." His warm, dark eyes met mine, and a delicious shiver worked its way up my spine.
Unsure of how to respond, I asked, "What do you mean?"
"How do you think it's going?"
Amused, I asked, "How do I think it's going?"
His voice was soft as he said, "Yeah."
"Um..." Biting into my bottom lip, I stalled for time.
"What?"
I shrugged, "It's going fine?"
"'Fine'?" He leaned against the back of his stool, "that's disappointing."