Genesee watched the two men toast before taking the shots of whiskey. Their smiles were easy, their laughs were infectious but yet she only felt a pang of regret … or maybe guilt as she imagined both pairs of hands on her body, fulfilling different needs in very different ways.
Devin had owned a piece of her soul for decades. Isaac had stolen a part of her as well, all in a matter of days. How does a grown woman allow herself to be torn between two men — especially when they are best friends?
Anger at herself surfaced in her eyes as tears threatened to spill. She reached for her purse to make her shameful escape. A hand cradled her neck as another arm took possession of her waist.
“Running away, Whiskey Girl?” The nickname rolled off the tongue of the wrong man as her eyes met and held Devin’s. Devin’s gaze gathered all her secrets effortlessly. She trembled under the compassionate scrutiny. He let his hand drift lazily from her neck to her cheek and over her lips. “I believe Isaac is waiting for your answer, Genesee. And he is not a patient man.”