Blackbirds & Bourbon by Heather R. Blair Read Free Book Online

looks more than a bit hungry himself. The thought makes a shiver run down my spine.
    To hide my reaction, I reach for the Jim Beam, pour the shot into a freshly washed glass and slide it over. He inclines his head.
    “Join me?”
    I lift my eyebrows but set another glass next to his.
    “Kinda surprised to find you here,” he says as I pour my shot.
    “Why?”
    “Heard you were camping out at the Den.”
    My hand tightens on my glass before I down it. Despite how casual Jack’s voice is there is an undercurrent in it. A dark one that we both know he has no right to put into words.
    “Because I was. Sy is there. And …Georg is still a friend, Jack.” I set down my glass to pick up a bar towel and start rubbing at the already-gleaming wood.
    “And I’m not.” It doesn’t sound like a question, but the air feels expectant somehow. Even though Jack just stares at the whiskey, his eyes hooded.
    “No,” I finally say. Despite everything, it stings to say that. But it’s the truth. “I don’t think that’s a title you can claim, do you?”
    “I guess not.”
    “You guess not?” Now I’m irritated. “What the fuck, Jack? You do remember playing me, right? In every way a man can play a woman. Worst of all, you let everyone know it.”
    Of everything that was fucked up between me and Jack, that is still what guts me most. Very few people had known about our relationship. He was the one who put it out there after he dumped me, making sure everyone knew that Oriane Gosse’s youngest daughter had been dumb enough to get herself ensnared by a spell that lasted for life. People already thought I was a bit of a freak—the weak sister in a family of over achievers. Jack’s juicy story spread like wild crabgrass, entangling me in pitying looks, sneers or giggles. To this day, when I meet an FTC for the first time and they hear my name, it’s inevitable, that hint of recognition. The virgin witch who lost more than her heart to this cold-ass son of a bitch in front of me.
    My voice shakes with frustration and temper, but when Jack takes a drink, his hand is steady as a surgeon’s. When he speaks, his tone is level and cool. “I did.”
    “You’ve admitted repeatedly that you can’t be trusted, that you have your own agenda.”
    “All true.” He puts the empty glass down and gets up. But instead of heading for the door, he comes around the end of the bar, his boots thudding against the hardwood floors.
    My hands tighten on the towel, but I don’t back away. Lifting my chin, I stare him down as his long legs eat up the space between us, the movement of those lithe hips making my throat go dry. “You told me to pay attention to what you do, Jack. I am, and none of it’s good.”
    “None of it?” He raises an eyebrow, a sardonic twist to his mouth. “Maybe you need a reminder of what I’m good for, princess.”
    He’s so close now that the smell of him has my nostrils flaring. I have to tilt my head back to meet those icy eyes. The intensity there has my heart pounding more than it already was. He looks like a man with something to prove.
    “Jack—”
    “Can you shut up for one goddamned minute so I can kiss you?”
    Oh.
    Well.
    He pushes me back against the bar, his hands settling on either side of my hips. Leaning down, Jack lets his warm, whiskey-scented breath feather over my lips, his eyes never leaving mine. His coat is freezing from being out in that storm, still dotted with melting snow, but under it, Jack is as warm as if he spent an hour relaxing in front of a fire. My fingers tremble as they press against the soft fabric of his sweater, the hard contours beneath all too easy to trace. It brings back certain memories in vivid detail. He may have only fucked me once, but he took his sweet time getting there. Jack was the first man to teach me about pleasure and he did his job excruciatingly well. A wave of heat laps at my belly and licks lower. I make a sound, somewhere between a whimper and a