Page 23 of Intoxicating Pursuit

I tried to recall our conversations, and memories flitted through my mind: Gabe asking me about our partnership as we sipped wine by the fire light, Marco’s angry reaction when he found us squeezed together by the brewery offices.

Is this why Gabe had twice walked away from me when his hands were practically on my body? Was his rejection of me at the rooftop bar all a misunderstanding?

If so, it was time to clear it up. “Gabe, Marco is not my husband.”

“Husband. Partner.” He gestured with his hands as if to brush away the difference. “Whatever you want to call it. I respect existing relationships.”

Had he wanted me the whole time? Was he just deferring to what he thought was a marriage? I wet my lips as heat and anticipation skittered through my belly.

“Gabe—” I worked to keep my voice steady—“Marco’s my partner, but only in business.”

Gears turned behind his eyes.

“He’s marrying his boyfriend this fall. Gabe. . . I’m single .”

A sly smile crept across his lips, and his eyebrows crooked up. “Well, this day just got better.”

Oh my God.

Weeks of lust I’d been trying to tame broke loose, surging freely through my body. The atmosphere took on a palpable charge, and my senses sharpened.

Gabe leaned against a trellis post, bathed in afternoon light. Golden warmth illuminated his skin and highlighted blond wisps of color in his light brown hair. The clusters of grapes around him all but glowed. He all but glowed, for that matter.

“Come here, Sammy.” His voice was low, husky.

Keeping my distance from him was a challenge. Drawing near was simple. All I had to do was stop resisting. I crossed the soft grass until I was close enough to feel his body heat.

Gabe traced his fingers, light as feathers, up my arms, across my shoulders, and along the sensitive skin of my neck. Then he cradled my face in his palms and lowered his sun-warmed lips to mine, gentle but sure.

It felt like the dawn breaking—like a flourish of brilliant color bursting over the horizon.

I leaned into his kiss, pressing myself against the hearty planes of his chest as his hands sifted through my hair. An exhilarating wave of pleasure enveloped me as Gabe’s tongue twisted against mine—demanding, taking, drawing me in.

His hands explored the contours of my body, but their exact path was a mystery, because beneath their roving touch, all my cells roared to life at once, swarming fizzy and weightless beneath my skin.

My fists were in his hair, and we were clasped tightly enough together that I felt every pulse as he stiffened against me.

When we moaned at the same time, all gentleness melted away. Suddenly, the hem of my dress was over my hips as his strong hands cupped my ass. He hauled me against him—too hard—and we stumbled back into the trellis, laughing as broken grapes splashed our skin.

My fantasies on the long drive to Creekside had been wildly deficient.

I hadn't imagined the taste of wine on his tongue or the thrill of his powerful response to my curves. Hadn’t fathomed the feeling of being pinned against Gabe’s body in the lush vineyard or just how consumed I would be by the fire of his touch.

My hands moved with hunger and impatience over the muscles of his sturdy arms and back, down the sides of his chest, over the curves of his backside. I was becoming impossibly aroused, and the evidence of his desire pressed urgently against my belly.

“Dear God, do I love this dress,” he mumbled, his hands everywhere: under it, over it, stroking my body through the thin fabric.

I stepped back, ready to burst into flames. If my lack of clarity earlier had caused us frustration, I could make up for it now.

“You like this dress?” I stepped out of my sandals and pulled the garment’s thin straps past the edge of my shoulders. “Hope you’re not attached to it.” I let the entire thing fall to the earth, and stood beneath the open sky, wearing only a tiny thong and a light coating of freckles.

His erection strained against his jeans. “Here, let me help you out there.” He tugged my panties off quickly, gripped my waist in his broad hands, and pushed my back against the grapevines at the edge of the row.

My eyes fluttered open, taking in paradise—an endless vista of fields, hills, and light.

His tortuous kisses trailed down my neck, my breasts, my belly. “Hold on to the trellis, Sammy.”

I did as he asked, grabbing the vines and wires—whatever I could get ahold of.

His kisses dropped even lower, and pleasure exploded through my body.

I laid my head back against the grape leaves, curling my fingers tightly around the vines and wires. The blazing southern sun spread a feverish heat across my breasts, and my mind emptied of everything but overwhelming sensation.

Gabe’s relentless attention continued as I melted into a limp, senseless tremor of need.

His skilled tongue and broad fingers had me teetering on the edge, but not crossing it, and the sweet torture continued until I finally just begged. “I need you in me. . . Please . . . I need you in me to come.”

Gabe didn’t hesitate. “Yes, ma’am.”

He took off his shirt like it was on fire and wrangled the shoes from his feet. After retrieving a condom from his jeans’ pocket, he dropped the remainder of his clothes to the ground. "You have a good grip on that thing?" His voice was raspy, urgent.

"Yes." I tightened my hold as he boosted me up with a grunt.

A moment later, we were locked together, the furnace of his body merged with mine.

I leaned back into the vines for support as he tested a few tentative, shimmering strokes.

Our balance held, and soon, when he seemed confident he wouldn't hurt me, he drove into me with more power.

As the exquisite sensation unfurled, his grunts and my cries of pleasure followed his rhythm.

I wrapped my legs around him, holding onto the trellis for dear life while he powered into me greedily, filling me up.

“So close,” I gasped. “I’m so close.”

He immediately picked up steam, rocking my body back and forth into the soft grape leaves.

My mind completely left me—replaced by friction and pull, muscle and power, give and take. And heat. So much heat. A rising, throbbing pleasure expanded inside me as I edged toward oblivion.

Gabe heaved erratic breaths and moaned garbled expletives to the heavens.

At the sound of his voice, so thick with want, I finally shattered, breaking into a million quivering pieces, unable to hold back my screams.

Gabe’s entire body tensed as he drove away the last of his desires. He gave a final hard push, a deep guttural sound escaping him.

When he collapsed against me, and gravity took the burden of my weight back, we clung together against the trellis.

He buried his face in my hair, his stubbly cheek resting against mine.

His heart pounded through the wall of his chest, and our bodies rested, overwhelmed—rendered temporarily unmovable by release.

Time slipped by as we found our way back to the world, and eventually in the distance, a creature rustled through the vines. Only the sound of our breathing followed, still slightly labored.

“It’s just a deer or a fox,” he finally mumbled. His body was a motionless weight against me.

A thought found its way to the surface of my pleasure-drunk brain. “Could that deer or fox be named Oscar?”

That got his attention. He craned his head up and looked around. “Um. . . I don’t think so, but maybe we should get dressed just in case.”

***

W e made our way back to his cabin at a leisurely pace. When we arrived, we freshened up, then Gabe met me on the porch with two bottles of cold cider in his hands. He popped the tops off and handed me one. “Here you go. One of our bestsellers. A hard pumpkin cider. Good stuff.”

We plunked down on the rocking chairs and took long sips. The cider tasted like a fall festival—like apples, pumpkins, sweetness, and spice, with just enough bite. After a busy afternoon in the Southern heat, it was perfect.

Halfway through our drinks, I remembered the rest of the world. “Can you give me a minute?”

I ducked back into my cabin, checked my texts and emails to make sure no emergencies had arisen, and for a moment, marveled that it actually hadn’t been hard to get through the day.

I had been so certain that anxiety would keep me from ever leaving Philadelphia again, but it didn’t seem to be the case.

I sighed with deep relief, then double checked my text to Tina from earlier in the day.

She had merely replied that she was fine, tied up with cub scouts, and would talk to me later.

Content that all was right with the world, I returned to the porch to enjoy the afterglow and the changes in the sky as the sun sank below the mountains, melting into a sea of color.