“Nah. My dog is just getting it out of her system now. Your dog will go through a rebellious stage, getting all sassy in his teens.”

They both watched as he opted to poop on the porch rather than deal with the scary bugs. “Or maybe not,” Riley amended. “Maybe he’ll always be timid.”

“Mellow. Mellow is the word you’re looking for.”

Riley’s dog came bounding over and head butted her brother, who went scampering behind Sam’s legs.

“Have you considered Kamikaze for a name?” Sam asked, watching as the girl dog turned its attention toward Sam’s shoelaces. “Or maybe Armageddon?”

Riley scooped up the puppy. “I was thinking Pippy. Or Lady.”

“Yeah, I’m going to go with no on the second one,” he said. “She’s already peed—twice—on my bath mat and eaten both of their food portions.”

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Compton,” she said, heading back inside. “Kill or be killed and all that.”

“You’re so scary,” Sam muttered as they both went to put their dogs in their respective crates.

Riley noticed the way he hesitated before putting the squirming puppy into the crate alone. She wasn’t having any better luck on her end, looking into those pleading brown eyes. Pet me! Play with me!

“Can’t they cuddle with us? Just for one night?” she asked.

He glanced over at her. “It’ll create bad habits.”

“But those are the best kind,” she said, stroking the dog’s silky ear.

Sam took a deep breath, put his dog into the crate, and locked the door. “I’ll make it up to you?”

She glanced at him through narrowed eyes. “It’d better be good. Really good.”

He gave her a hooded look. “Two years ago, March issue. Want to try it?”

Riley quickly went back through her mental catalog of previous issues. She remembered her own pieces pretty well, but she was surprised that he did. Must have been a doozy of an—

Her eyes widened as she remembered the one he was talking about. “Nighty night, Pippy!” she sang, quickly maneuvering the squirming dog into the crate and latching the door before launching herself at Sam.

But the problem became clear before their lips made contact.

The dogs obviously had no respect for the sacred March issue two years ago, nor for the dog experts’ crate-training advice.

Sam and Riley stared at each other as they listened to the angry set of high-pitched puppy barks. “You know, I’ve been keeping the distillery pretty warm—” he said hesitantly.

“Yes!” she said, already moving toward the crates.

Two seconds later they slid the sliding door closed, effectively shutting out the sound of two irate dogs.

Riley hesitated. “You don’t think they’ll be lonely?”

“They have each other,” he said, already reaching for her.

Riley led him toward the bed, scrambling to pull back the covers. She paused, running her hands along the soft gray bedding. “New sheets? They’re—”

“Forget the fu**ing sheets.”

He pulled her up onto her knees and pulled off her turtleneck in one motion. His hands framed her face, devouring her mouth as her hands wrestled with his belt and jeans.

“You’re getting better at that,” he said against her mouth as she pulled his jeans and boxers over his hips.

“A little practice. A lot of motivation.”

They pulled apart only long enough to shed their shoes and jeans, and then his hands found her once more, one arm banded firmly around her back as the other hand wrapped around the base of her neck.

Riley curled her own fingers in his hair, holding his head steady. Her tongue coaxed his into her mouth, where she sucked at it wantonly.

He pulled back and swore harshly before pressing a hand against her breastbone, another beneath her hip, and maneuvering her onto her back. Riley squirmed as he grabbed her h*ps and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed.

Sam skimmed a finger over the bow at her hip. “Red panties today. Nice.”

“You like? I just got them—”

Then Riley forgot all about the matching set of red lingerie she’d bought just because she knew it was his favorite color, because Sam was peeling them off and tossing them aside even as he dropped to his knees.

His eyes locked with hers for a split second before his hands found her thighs, pushing them apart. And then his head dipped to her, tasting her in slow, torturous strokes as she arched up into him, her fingers clawing helplessly.

She’d known about the act, of course. Hell, she’d written about it. But hearing other women describing it and actually experiencing it? Not. The. Same. Thing.

He worked a finger inside her as his tongue moved faster, circling in exactly the place she needed it, and before she could register what was happening, she shattered against his mouth, confirming that she was, and likely always would be, a screamer.

Sam kissed his way up her body, nibbling her shoulder as she caught her breath.

“So?” he asked.

“Huh?” she asked sleepily.

“The March issue. You wrote about how some women liked that better than the actual sex.”

“Well …,” she said, pursing her lips and seriously considering.

His eyes smiled down into hers. “How about a little basis for comparison? Say—July of last year?”

“What, do you, like, study my articles before bed or something? Was that the reverse-cowgirl one?”

“Nope,” he said, moving to sit back against the pillows. “We can try that next time. Tonight I want to see your face when you come.”

Sweet Jesus. He grabbed her hips, maneuvering her over his lap as his tongue found her nipple and flicked it softly. His hands slid around to cup her ass, lifting her slightly until she was poised over him.

They’d gone girl-on-top before, but this was different. Intimate.

He lifted his head to meet her eyes before pushing her hair back from her face. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

Riley’s breath caught. He’d called her body beautiful before, but this was different.

He was looking at her.

Riley lowered onto him slowly. When he was finally all the way in, he closed his eyes and swore softly before his hands tangled in her hair and pulled her head back slightly, exposing her neck and chest for his exploring mouth.

The pace was slow, as though they were both holding on to the moment, making it last. Even when their breath came faster, their hands more desperate, Sam refused to let her speed up, keeping them on the brink as long as possible before finally, finally letting her go over the edge.

He followed her almost immediately, burying his face in her neck, and when he whispered her name quietly, reverently, Riley bit her lip to stop the words she longed to say.

Love me. Keep me. I’m yours.

Chapter Nineteen

“Dude. You got a dog?”

“Apparently,” Sam muttered, standing and putting a wrench in his back pocket as Skippy bounded over to Liam.

“A boy, obviously,” his best friend said, as Skippy promptly rolled to his back and displayed the goods while demanding a belly rub.

“Yeah, taking him in next week to get neutered.”

“Poor little guy,” Liam said with a last pat. “What’s with everyone hopping on the get-a-dog bandwagon lately? Riley mentioned she got a puppy too, although I haven’t seen it yet.”

Sam avoided his friend’s eyes. “Kinda lonely out here. Thought the company might be nice.”

He expected a grilling, but Liam merely nodded. “Makes sense. You’ve always been a dog guy.”

Had he? He’d never had one. He’d asked his mother every year on his birthday until he was ten, and then he’d just given up.

But Riley had known what Sam had never told anyone, save for apparently a wine-fueled slip one Thanksgiving. And now apparently Liam knew it too.

That part of friendship continually caught Sam by surprise. That knowing without telling. That blind support, and even the occasional push when you needed it.

“So,” Sam said, grabbing two of the staff tasting glasses and heading toward the casks. Liam was always game for a taste test on Sam’s more experimental stuff. “How are the Dutch women?”

“Hot,” Liam said, taking an appreciative sniff of the tumbler Sam handed him. “And get this … I met honest-to-God triplets. Leggy, blond, identical. I would have killed for my wingman.”

Sam nodded automatically, but the truth was that the thought of leggy blondes didn’t do anything for him.

Leggy brunettes, on the other hand …

“Any more trips planned, or was this the last of it?”

“One more week. Then the project wraps up.”

One more week.

One more week before Sam had to look his best friend in the eye and try to convince him he was worthy of his baby sister.

Something Sam wasn’t at all sure that he could do. Not because he was afraid to face Liam.

But because he was afraid he wasn’t worthy.

Knowing that he wasn’t good enough for Riley McKenna was painful enough without having to hear his best friend say it to his face.

Skippy came trotting over, carefully positioning the stuffed rabbit in his mouth over Sam’s work boot before beginning to squeak the toy wildly.

“Mom says you haven’t been at dinner lately,” Liam said.

Sam listened for any hidden accusations but heard only idle curiosity, likely fueled by Erin’s demand that Liam “bring Sam back around.”

“Been pretty busy here,” Sam said, gesturing at the casks. “Finally getting to the point that I’m producing a steady supply.”

Liam broke into a wide smile. “Fuck yeah. So, ready to sell, then?”

Sam looked away. “I said I had a steady supply. I didn’t say it was good.”

“You’re drinking the same shit as me, right? It’s fantastic, and you know it.”

He did. But if he was wrong …

Just one more thing to add to his list of fuckups.

“I’m still figuring out what to do.”

Liam shrugged in a suit-yourself gesture. “You got any food? That’s the shitty part of you being way up here. No decent food places nearby.”

Sam picked up Skippy’s toy and sent it sailing across the room, watching Skippy’s awkward puppy run as he chased it down. “Clearly you haven’t tried the Mexican place a couple blocks up.”

“Nope. Walked by it though. Will definitely hit it up if I ever have an E. coli craving.”

“Frozen pizza?” Sam asked, heading toward the back living area and silently hoping none of Riley’s skimpy undergarments were around. He’d had the foresight to call and tell her he was busy tonight the second he’d heard from Liam, but he was out of practice with disguising the presence of a woman in his bedroom.

Not since high school had he had to worry about someone spotting a rogue pair of panties where they shouldn’t be. Not that his mother would have cared much. Or even noticed.

And normally Sam wouldn’t have given a shit if Liam found out he’d been getting some. But there was no way Sam could let his best friend spot his sister’s bra by accident, even if Liam wouldn’t know it was his sister’s.

For all of their sakes, he really hoped that shit was out of sight.

Skippy misgauged his stopping distance and careened into the back of his calf before happily bouncing back up and prancing in front of them.

The little guy loved pizza.

“I guess I should be more careful about leaving you on your own,” Liam said as he settled at the small table and watched Sam dig out a frozen pizza.

“How’s that?”

“Well, I was gone for what … two weeks? I come back and you’ve got yourself a girlfriend and a freaking dog?”

Sam froze in the process of heating the oven. Had Liam talked to Riley? And even if he had, surely she had the good sense not to mention their little fling?

They’d agreed not to tell her family until they knew where it was going. Erin McKenna would be knitting baby booties before their first-month anniversary, and Liam …

Well, Liam would kill him.

“Who says I have a girlfriend?” Sam kept his voice easy.

“It’s written all over your whipped face.”

Sam relaxed slightly. It had just been a lucky guess. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” Liam asked, going to the shelf that doubled as a liquor cabinet and rummaging around until he found a bottle to his liking. “For starters, you’ve smiled about eight times more than usual. Next up, we have the puppy, which, like I’ve said, doesn’t surprise me, but the breed of dog does. It’s one of those fancy ones, not a mutt from the pound …”

Sam remained stubbornly silent as he refilled his own drink.

“And then there’s the more tangible proof …,” Liam continued.

“I can’t wait to hear. Are my eyes more sparkly? Have I been doing something different with my hair?”

“Nope.”

Sam had known Liam long enough to recognize that silent laugh. He turned to see what hilarity he was missing.

His heart jumped into his throat.

Oh shit!

He’d done a quick scan of his bed when he and Liam had entered and deemed it free of any obvious female presence.

There was just one tiny detail he hadn’t considered.

Skippy.

The very cute, very proud puppy had swapped his squeaky toy for one very frilly, probably very expensive red bra, and was attempting to maneuver it across the floor before proudly depositing it at Sam’s feet.

Sam exhaled through his nose. If the bra didn’t belong to the sister of the man currently cracking up, he might have been able to see the humor in the situation.

As it was, the red bra might as well have been a red flag.

Danger. Danger.

Leaning down, Sam scooped up the light bit of fabric and glared down at the puppy, who was doing that frantic tail wag that caused his entire body to reverberate.

“No treat,” he said, jabbing a finger down at the dog.

“But looks like Daddy got a treat,” Liam said, his expression all gleeful innocence.

“So I had some female company,” Sam grumbled, marching to his dresser and stuffing the bra inside with his undershirts. “You going to tell me that every pair of panties in your bed equates to a girlfriend?”

“Nah,” Liam said, reaching down to scoop up Skippy and letting the dog lick his face. “But I don’t think I’ve ever experienced what you’re experiencing.”