Page 6 of Bourbon Wishes (Wine Country Alphas #3)

"The meeting, Bastian," I snap, trying to drag him back on subject before I crawl across the table into his lap. I'm not entirely sure if I want to kiss him or kill him. As usual.

"It was canceled."

Yeah, I'm definitely going to scream. Or strangle him. I bet I could wrap his not-black-enough-tie around his throat and choke the life out of him with it. Half the people in the restaurant would probably offer assistance. To me, not him. He's lived here his entire life. They know he's a tyrant.

"The meeting was canceled, and you didn't think to tell me?" I say, carefully enunciating each word.

He shrugs like it's not a big deal. "You need to eat. I need to eat. Who we do it with didn't seem relevant."

Oh, my god.

"There was no meeting, was there?"

"I already told you that it was canceled."

I stare at him for a long, silent moment. One thing he's not is a good liar. He may be Satan in an Italian suit, but he has this thing about honesty. It matters to him. And right now, he's lying through his teeth. Badly.

I rise to my feet without another word. My heels clack against the floor as I march out. Everyone looks in my direction, but I don't even care if walking out on Bastian in this damn dress has the whole town talking. He's lying, and if I stay, I may actually stab him with a salad fork.

I make it all the way to the parking lot before he grabs my arm, spinning me around.

"If you don't let go of me right now, I swear to God, you're going to have to surgically remove your balls from your throat, Bastian Grayson," I growl, tugging against his hold.

"You need to eat, Constance."

A completely unhinged laugh spills from my lips. I'm losing it. He has driven me straight around the bend to homicidal rage.

"Are you kidding me right now? You manipulated me to get me here! There was no meeting."

"I told you it was canceled."

"By who? Who were we meeting?"

"Investors."

"Which investors?"

He grits his teeth, unwilling to tell another lie…but clearly not ready to confess, either.

"If you don't tell me the truth in the next two seconds, I'm turning in my resignation tomorrow, and your name will be all over my explanation as to why," I threaten, my voice saccharine. "How long do you think you can survive with half of your family actively plotting to poison your coffee?"

His jaw flexes as he stares at me. "Who were you talking to today?"

"What?"

"In your office," he says. "You were on the phone with someone."

"What are you talking about?" I cry, frustrated and confused. He's talking about everything but the dang point, and my head is starting to throb. It's not even a migraine. It's him. He's giving me an aneurysm.

"When I came to your office, you were on the phone," he growls, the muscle in his cheek ticking. "Who were you talking to?"

I open my mouth to tell him I was talking to my brother, and then snap it closed, eyeing him suspiciously. The look in his eyes is intense, like the answer matters to him for some reason.

I think back to that conversation, trying to remember exactly what I said. But honestly, it wasn't anything unusual. Caleb called to tell me that his fiancée, Sutton, is performing at an awards show in Los Angeles soon. They're planning to come and see me before they head back to Nashville.

I told him that I couldn't wait to see him. Sutton is a big country star, so they've been spending a lot of time in Nashville since they got together a few months ago.

"Who is he, Constance?"

"What?"

"The man you think you love," he grits out, his eyes black.

I gape at him for a minute, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. Trying to understand it. And then realization hits like a gong. Oh my gosh. Did Bastian orchestrate this entire dinner because he's jealous ?

I automatically want to dismiss the possibility as preposterous…

but the way he's looking at me like the fate of the world hinges on my answer tells me that it's not preposterous at all.

Bastian Grayson, autocratic pain-in-my-ass, orchestrated this entire farce of a dinner meeting out of sheer jealousy.

Haven and Jax are going to flip when they find out.

"Why do you care?" I ask instead of answering. Part of me wants to squeal like a little girl, though. Bastian is losing his mind with jealousy over me. This is so bad…and I love it anyway.

"You know why," he grits out, tugging me closer to his body.

"Humor me," I say, tossing his words from this morning back at him.

He stares at me silently for so long that I don't think he's going to answer me.

But then he rumbles a curse. "You're a problem for me.

Ever since you came to work at the vineyard, you've been a problem.

You sit across from me, mouthing off, and all I want to do is push you to your knees and fill that fucking smart mouth. Now, tell me who the fuck he is."

It's my turn to stare at him, shocked, my heart racing…

turned on and twisted inside out. He's going to ruin me.

I know he is. I see it in his eyes, the desire to do just that.

To break me apart and mold me into something else, something that's entirely his.

It'll probably end in disaster. Isn't that the way it always ends when you sleep with your boss?

Disaster, heartbreak, and complete devastation.

I should run from that, far and fast. Except…

"Yeah, I lied about the meeting," he says, his eyes still locked on me. "But I wasn't letting you go out with some motherfucker who doesn't know what you want and who will never deserve you."

"I was talking to my brother," I say softly, calmly.

"Fuck," he grunts, yanking me fully up against him. One hand plunges into my hair, craning it back. The other wraps around my waist, pinning me against the hard wall of his chest.

His lips come down on mine, all bourbon, heat, and hard command. I groan into the kiss, my fingers tangled up in the lapels of his jacket to hold him in place. Even though the air is frigid around us, it steams between us as his tongue touches mine.

He consumes me with his kiss, annihilating every single expectation I ever had. It's been years since I was last kissed, and it was never like this. This is an inferno igniting and consuming everything it touches—my sanity, my body, and him.

I press closer, moaning into his mouth as the hand around my waist slips lower, his hand prowling across my ass like it's his to touch. I feel his erection nestled against my belly, hot, hard, and insistent. God, he's so fucking hard right now.

I don't think before I reach for it, desperate to touch him the way I do in my dreams every night.

His fingers close around my wrist, his grip firm and unyielding.

"Don't," he growls. "Not unless you want me to bend you over the hood of your car and let everyone in that restaurant watch what I do to you."

"As fun as that sounds, I kind of imagined my first time in a bed," I say, panting. Trembling. "I don't really care if it's yours or mine."

"Fucking hell." His lips come down on mine in another hard kiss, this one hard enough to bruise. I'm not sure if that's a yes or a no. At least, not until he starts walking me backward, still kissing me.

I stumble and trip, but he keeps me on my feet. My back lands against a cold, metallic surface. I arch away, gasping, but he doesn't let me go far. He pushes me backward, pinning me to the side of his truck.

One hand rakes up my thigh, his fingers searing a trail all the way up underneath the short hem of my dress.

His eyes are locked on mine, as if he's daring me to stop him.

The thing is, though…I can't. That's the problem with him.

Even when he infuriates me, I can't tell him no.

With his hands on my body, I don't even stand a chance.

He reaches my Spanx, and his hand stalls. "What the fuck is this?"

"Spanx."

"You don't need that shit."

"I do in this dress."

He grunts, sliding his hands up until he finds the waistband. He doesn't say a word as he peels them down, stripping me out of them right there against the side of his truck. If it weren't for his steady hold on me, I'd land on my ass when he kneels to work them down over my shoes.

He leaves them on the ground, his eyes flicking to mine as he rises again. "You don't need them. Every inch of you is a goddamn dream, Constance."

My stomach flutters as he reaches for me again, all conviction and disgruntled man, pissed that I poured myself into Spanx for him. It's… unexpectedly sweet.

His fingers slip beneath the band of my panties, brushing across my sex.

I bury my face in his chest as if that'll stop the plea climbing up my throat. It doesn't. I just gasp it into the fabric of his suit.

"Yes. Please, Bastian. Please, touch me."

"You're so fucking wet, Constance," he rasps in my ear, brushing his thumb across my lower lips. "Do you want to come right here?"

"Yes. God, yes."

His thumb circles my clit, and my legs damn near buckle.

"I like you like this," he grunts in my ear. "All desperate and needy." He nips my throat, his fingers wreaking havoc on my body. "Begging to fall."

"Please," I moan again, thrashing against the side of the truck. "Oh, God, please."

"You're going to come on my fingers, and then you're coming home with me. Our first time will be in my bed, so you're all over my sheets where you belong." He circles my hole with one finger, his thumb grinding against my clit. "The second will be in my shower."

"Oh my god," I moan, already on the verge of splintering apart. His voice in my ear and his hands on me are too much. Too much pleasure, too much perfection, too real .

"I should keep you coming on my cock until you pass out," he growls, sinking his finger in me to the first knuckle. "It's what you deserve for that fucking dress."

"You l-love it," I gasp.

"I'll love it even more when it's on my floor and those fuck-me heels are tearing up my back." His finger sinks deeper, his thumb circling again. "I should tie you to my bed with it and keep you there until you learn to behave."

"Never."

"I know." He tips my head back, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment.

His expression is equal parts fierce desire and soft affection.

He looks more like himself in this moment than at any before.

And fuck, he's beautiful. "But it's going to be fun trying to fuck the fight out of you anyway, baby. "

His voice is liquid sex in my ear, his wicked promise like kryptonite. My body reacts accordingly. I bite down on his shoulder, trying to stifle my cries as a powerful orgasm slams into me, knocking me breathless.

"Fuck," he groans loud and low in my ear, working me through it. "You're soaking my hand right now. I can't wait to feel that all over my cock for the first time." His lips touch the side of my throat, and I choke on his name, still reeling in pleasure.

He keeps stroking my clit until I'm trembling in his arms, so sensitive every touch feels like another mini-orgasm. It's too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

"Perfect," he croons in my ear, slowly slipping his hand from my panties. "So fucking perfect." His lips touch the curve of my jaw and then my cheek, his kiss as sweet as his praise, and I know I'm in serious trouble of handing this man my heart right alongside my body.