The moonshine hits Tatum fast and nearly knocks her into sleepy-time. I keep waiting for her to upchuck, but the booze settles into her system around a half hour after the first drop tangos with her tongue. Soon smiling, she runs upstairs before returning in a donut-covered pink nightgown.

“I’m more comfortable now,” she says and relaxes against me on the couch. “I want to see your tattoo again.”

“It came out pretty good considering I chose it while drunk.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Probably. I was too wasted to feel most of it.”

“Tattoos scare me.”

“I never planned to get one, but Mister Booze had other ideas. I can’t believe I was drunk enough to stay buzzed for the five hours the damn thing took. Then I had to stay buzzed for the next few days while dealing with the pain. It was actually a great week.”

“Were you alone when you got it?” she asks, giving Bugs a quick kiss.

“Naw, Cricket and Bianca Bella were with me. We were celebrating B’s birthday in New Orleans. Big mistake. That city offers too much great booze, food, and music for a person not to end up sloppy drunk for a few days.”

“I’ve never traveled or done anything wild.”

“You moved in with a guy you’ve only known for a few days. Oh, and you went on a suicide mission to kill a hardcore biker. Fucking badass if you ask me.”

Stretching out her long, pale legs, Tatum laughs. “Yeah, I’m living on the wild side.”

“If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?”

“No idea,” she says and turns to kneel next to me. Her fingers stroke my hair, reminding my dick how a very sexy woman is nearly naked inches away from us. I summon all my willpower to keep from finding out what she’s hiding under her nightgown.

“We’ll likely go to Colorado to ski this winter,” I say, studying her face while she tenderly wraps my hair behind my ear. “You’ll need to buy snow clothes.”

“And learn to ski.”

“It’s easy,” I say, standing up in a swift movement despite my painfully hard dick. “Let me show you.”

I gesture for Tatum to stand with her back to me. Pressing against her, I move our hips in gentle motions from side to side in the way I ski down a slope. Of course, with my dick screaming for acknowledgment, I suspect this teachable moment comes across as if I’m trying to dry hump her butt.

“We’ll start you off on the bunny slope with the mini-twins. I’ll act as your instructor,” I murmur and then step back. “I promise to be professional,” I say and adjust my pants. “Mostly because you won’t be nearly as naked and I’ll be surrounded by my family.”

Tatum turns around and looks up at me with her green, boozy eyes. “What’s an erection feel like?”

Snorting, I try to find the words to explain something so natural to someone with so little experience. “Do you masturbate?”

“No. I mean, I have before, but I don’t do it often,” she says, drunk enough to no longer edit herself.

“You know how it feels to be aroused, right?”

Tatum’s fingers trace the lines of my sweater, having lost interest in our conversation. I let the silence hang in the room while she grows more fascinated by my shirt.

“What were we talking about?” she finally asks.

“I’m going to teach you to ski.”

Tatum smiles. “What if I can’t ski for caca?”

“Well, first, I’ll teach you to say shit. Then I’ll suggest you hang out at the lodge with my mom and Cricket who can’t ski for shit either. They drink booze-laced cocoa and enjoy the view. I think they also get massages, but I’ve never paid that much attention to their routines.”

“I think I’d rather watch you ski than drink cocoa.”

“You say that now,” I whisper as my hands gently grip her waist, “but wait until it’s cold and you’re bored. That boozy cocoa will sound awesome. Plus, you need girl time. I know no one will replace your mother, but I also know my mom will love you.”

“What if you’re wrong and she hates me?”

“She won’t.”

“But what if there’s just something about me that rubs her the wrong way? What can you do then?” Tatum insists.

“I’ll force her to live with her bad taste. She knows what it’s like to be with someone everyone else hates.”

“People hate your father?”

“My stepdad, Hayes, yes. I don’t know about my bio dad, and I honestly don’t care. But with Hayes, people fear and hate him. He’s a jerk and doesn’t care how people feel. His attitude is a million times worse than Cricket’s and mine. He’s just the most awful man ever, but she loves him. She sees what others can’t, or won’t. I’ll tell her I feel the same about you so she can suck it.”

“What if Hayes doesn’t like me?” Tatum asks, looking genuinely nervous now.

“He doesn’t like anyone, but he’s loyal to family. You’re my woman, and he’ll tolerate you.”

“What if your little brother doesn’t like me?”

“Cap likes everyone. He’s an honest-to-goodness angel from above and incapable of wrongness in any way.”

Tatum gives me an annoyed frown. “I thought you said he was an annoying teenager.”

“Oh, he is, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t also an otherworldly creature incapable of wrongness.”

Stepping back, so my hands are no longer around her waist, she shakes her head. “My mom liked the beach and watermelon. I feel as if you and I don’t come from the same sort of people.”

“Opposites attract. Unless you and I are similar, then similars attract. I don’t care how we get there as long as I pick the destination.”

Tatum sways back and forth, likely ready to collapse. I sweep her into my arms and walk to the couch.

“Let’s watch TV before you pass out and I’m forced to be alone.”

“I don’t plan to pass out until I get dinner.”

“Your demanding nature is a sexy quality,” I murmur while my lips nuzzle her ear hidden under her hair. “I have leftover pork ribs and slaw if you’re hungry. Or I can cook.”

“I’m a simple girl,” she says, straddling me and making my dick very aware of how little clothing stands between it and her sweet peach pussy. “I need so little to be happy. Edible food, a roof over my head, and Chipper-style kisses.”

Tatum’s booze-induced confidence makes her kisses extra tasty. I wrap my arms around her and soak in the heat of her body lightly bouncing against mine. Every time a new episode of “House Hunters” starts, she throws her arms in the air and wiggles to the theme song.

“Booze is my new best friend,” she whispers before returning to nibbling my throat.

“Where do I fall into the friend equation?”

“It goes you, booze, and finally that lazy cat.”

After a quick glance at Muffin Top who remains in the same spot as when we arrived two hours ago, I groan at how her wiggling hips put her pussy painfully close to my unrelenting hard-on.

The next few hours are some of the most difficult of my life. Taking Tatum to bed would be so easy. I think she wants me to move our dry-humping action to the bedroom. Her kisses are hungrier than I’ve enjoyed from any woman, and her hands kept sliding further up my shirt. Yes, she’s perfectly ready, but there’s no denying Mistress Booze is calling the shots.

Though Tatum might be one hundred percent ready for my sweet loving, what about me? I worry about her regretting our first time together. How can I enjoy discovering her freckles if my mind is on her reaction tomorrow?

For both our sakes, I keep the evening’s never-ending make-out session dressed and only a little dirty. The cluster of hickeys on my neck is as raunchy as we get.

Around ten, I tuck a barely coherent Tatum into bed. She stares at me in a way I remember from when I was a kid, and I’d gotten way too fucking over-stimulated. I couldn’t sleep unless Cricket climbed into bed next to me. Fortunately, I’m well past the need to use my sister as a blankie.

“I’ll stay here until you’re asleep,” I tell Tatum. “If you need me, I’m down the hallway. Just scream like a horror queen, and I’ll come running. Oh, and don’t worry if something jumps on your bed during the night. Camel Toe sleeps all day and then prowls the house in the dark. She’ll want to check you out.”

Tatum smiles in a sleepy-kid way. “I always wanted a cat.”

“Now you have two.”

“With horrible names.”

“You’ll think they’re much cooler when you go with me to the vet and make the staff say Muffin Top and Camel Toe.”

Giggling, Tatum falls asleep with a grin on her face. I remain in the room for nearly twenty minutes afterward, waiting for my erection to take the hint. When it won’t, I figure a long shower will deal with my problem. On my way out of the bedroom, my black cat nearly trips me. What kind of damage might my erect dick endure if I fell forward onto the hardwood floors?

Deciding the fucking cat needs a bell on her collar ASAP, I make this task the first one for my new assistant.