Chapter Twenty-Eight

“ S O, THIS IS a thing,” Cecelia drawls, voice hoarse, fatigued. “You have access to businesses all over town?”

“If we help fatten their bottom line we do,” I whisper to her temple, running the pads of my fingers along her back. Her wine-soaked dress sits in a heap on the floor—as do my clothes—our collective focus on the expanse of leafy vines trailing up the slope of the mountain.

Cheek pressed against my chest, she straddles me on one of two built-in benches lining each wall of the cellar. Mere seconds after we came to from our first round, a drawn-out kiss led to a deep, slow ride on the bench. One we’re still coming down from.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she whispers dreamily, fully relaxed. I can’t say I’m not feeling the same sort of lull, my posture just as lax as I draw lazy circles on her skin.

“Wine’s good.” I glance at the barrel where an unopened bottle sits next to the breathing one I doused her with. “Want some more?”

“I’m not really a wine drinker, but I’ll have some, if you will.”

“I’m not really a drinker. ” I shrug. “A few beers here and there.”

A beat of silence.

“Because of Delphine?”

It’s not a stupid question, and for the most part, she’s on point. “Some of it. Mostly because I need to keep my wits about me.”

“In case of bird business,” she concludes, tracing my ink. Another stroke of my fingers down her bare back elicits a full-body shiver. Satisfaction thrums through me at how responsive she is to my every touch. We’re both a mess, hair picked through, sweat-slicked and sticky. I can’t manage a fuck to give that we’re naked and could be easily exposed to anyone who might pull up. One day in the near future, we will be, and all hell will break loose. Sean continues to play ignorant that day is coming, while I know what repercussions that revelation will bring. It’s the thought of cutting her loose now to help mitigate that disaster that has me tensing.

“Am I right?” Lifting her head, she frowns when she sees my mood has shifted. She fails to smooth out my drawn brows with her fingers, and I swat her effort away.

“Such a moody man,” she says in jest. That truth stings because it’s all I’ve dealt with lately from those in my inner circle—Sean especially, who’s currently keeping his distance in a way he never has. Sensing my irritation, she shifts from my lap onto the vacant bench beside me. “Dom, I was joking.”

Up in arms, she reaches for what’s left of her dress as I snap off the condom before grabbing my boxers and pulling them on. “No, you weren’t.”

It’s the fucking truth. I can’t seem to handle my shit anymore—my temper becoming impossible to regulate—especially when my mind drifts to the repulsive horrors I’ve been continually feeding it. Not bothering to gauge her lack of response, I grab the half-empty bottle from the decorative barrel and walk it over to Cecelia as she covers herself as much as possible—now on the defensive.

Way to go, asshole.

I fucked up the mood, as I so often do. This is where shit gets tricky. There’s no quick parting after sex with Cecelia. It’s not how she’s built, and it’s not like I want to end our time together, but this is unfamiliar territory—fucking lightyears from my comfort zone. As I take a long swig from the bottle with that truth in mind, she gapes at me. “Uh...for someone who just declared you don’t drink much, you pretty much downed a quarter of the bottle.”

“We have another.” I thrust it toward her with brute force, and she takes it cautiously. Pulling on my jeans, I push into my boots before making my way to the passenger side of my Camaro. Slackening rain pelts my skin as I collect my stash from my small fireproof box. The interior of the cabin lights up, and I glance up to see the sun peeking from the clouds before scanning the soaked grounds of the abandoned winery.

Thinking on my toes about how to try to turn things around, I turn my key and tap a song on my playlist. Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds” rings out, echoing across the mountaintop. Glancing back toward the cellar, I catch Cecelia smiling at me.

She’s already forgiven me.

One of her gorgeous legs is propped on the bench, her bare foot resting on the edge, our wine bottle unceremoniously clutched to her chest—she’s the picture of serenity.

So. Goddamn. Beautiful.

Returning her grin, I stalk back into the cellar, taking a seat at the end of the table to roll.

“This really is a dream, Dom.” She swigs from the bottle, and I glance over to see her inhaling deeply. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“I wanted to be alone,” I assert, knowing it dampens some of the romanticism for her. But it’s important she doesn’t get the wrong impression. Picking through loose bud, I hear another swish of wine as it eases to the bottom of the bottle.

“Wine drinker or not, this is delicious.” She scans the label. “Point Lookout, that’s where we are?”

“Yeah, the guy who owns it is a relative of Tyler’s. He attended West Point.”

“He really was bred from a loyal military family, huh?”

“All of them. Every single one,” I tell her. “Except Tyler’s mom.”

“I’m guessing from your tone, that’s not good?” she prompts.

“Not for Tyler’s mom,” I confess, tucking the weed into the ready paper.

“How so?”

I shake my head, catching myself. “Not my shit to tell.”

“Ahh, more secrets.”

“Yeah, so keep that shit to yourself,” I snap a little too harshly.

Jesus, fuck, Dom.

She takes another drink, eyes flaring before they soften as she lowers the bottle. “Want to talk about it?”

“Consider ‘never’ my standard answer for that question.” I swipe away debris from the table.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” She rolls her eyes.

As much as I like sparring with her, it feels off now, considering what just transpired between us physically.

I’ll never get this right.

Soaking the closed joint between my lips, I feel the familiar weight on my profile.

“I’ll never get tired of watching you do that,” she whispers heatedly, “it’s sexy as hell.”

There it is again, the discomfort. Though I can’t really fault her because we both speak bluntly, Cecelia’s bold truths provoke a raw type of honest response that pry into me. Keeping to my task, I catch another involuntary, full-body shiver in my peripheral. She’s still cold.

Tucking my blunt behind my ear, I snatch the unopened bottle in one hand and hold out my other, nodding toward the wine she holds. “Cap that. Let’s go.”

“Already?” she deflates, eyes dropping while taking my hand and reluctantly standing.

Back in the car, feeling her disappointment from where she shivers next to me, I make a fast decision and turn right, treading slowly up the paved, steep inclined road that leads to the top of the mountain. The main tasting room and reception hall to our left, Cecelia audibly gasps when she sees what’s waiting on the right as it gradually comes into view. “Dom, oh my God, this is... wow! ”

Transfixed, she exits the car in a dream-like state, and I grin and follow. I pass a handful of tables to join her where she sits on the waist-high rock wall lining the cliff. Before us is an endless view of the peaks and valleys of the Blue Ridge Mountains. We spend a few minutes in comfortable silence. It’s when I light my blunt that she rips her gaze away, glancing over. “So that’s your only true vice,” she nods to the joint, “besides breakfast,” she giggles.

“Don’t drink too much,” I warn. “Red wine has a way of sneaking up on you.”

“I am feeling a little tingly,” she admits.

“I don’t fuck the unconscious,” I warn.

“Wow,” her eyes widen in mock surprise, “such a gentleman,” she muses before grabbing another eyeful of the landscape. “You know, for a guy who thinks romance is a gimmick, this is pretty incredible.”

“Not a gimmick, just not—”

“—something that interests you, yeah, yeah, heard you loud and clear the first time. At least we’re past the fuck-you-eyes and grunting stage,” she jests as I give her a warning look.

“Oh, nope, seems we’ve regressed ,” she giggles again.

Unable to help it, I shake my head with a grin.

“Ah, and progress in the next second, it’s a tango with you, King, but I’m guessing you don’t dance, either.”

Offering her the blunt, she refuses it, and I take a long pull, answering on exhale. “You guessed right.”

She turns back to the stunning view spread before us. “Yeah, nothing romantic about this at all,” she deadpans. “This must be killing you, Mr. Gloom and Doom.”

Instead of snapping at her that this wasn’t intentional, I let it go.

Even if I think romantic love is mostly a chemically induced state, she believes in it. There’s no need for me to be a dick about it or try to ruin her idea of it. Sean can give her all she needs in that department. I’m glad in that respect because she deserves to believe for as long as she can. Life has a way of ripping our ideas and hopes about the things that matter most to us to shreds.

We sit quietly for long minutes as I tug on my blunt. Fortune has a good fucking laugh at my expense when, in the distance, a solid rainbow appears.

Cutting her eyes my way, Cecelia presses her lips together until she loses her battle, bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Talk about an epic backfire,” she says through a laugh, “poor baby, this must be torturous for you.”

“Shut up.”

“Just waiting on a unicorn to do a fly-by and drop a crown in my lap,” she muses. “Considering I’ve already snagged a temperamental prince who rides a dark horse.” She nods back toward my Camaro.

“Hilarious,” I quip, pulling the last of my joint and stomping it under my boot before glancing back at the rainbow. “They’re actually pretty common around here,” I tell her, just as another faded duplicate appears behind it, both beginning and ending in a high arch over the expansive neon-green terrain.

“Holy shit,” she exclaims, “so I’m guessing this is common too?”

Stunned by the sight of it, I can’t remember the last time I saw a rainbow, let alone bothered looking for one. Music drifts from my speakers as I immerse myself in the created atmosphere—intentional or not—while a light buzz settles into me. Tension easing up substantially, mind slowing as I remain present, I somehow manage to slip back into a scarce, tranquil state along with her. Turning to Cecelia, I watch her watching the show, her expression wistful. Maybe it’s the wine and the bud, or maybe it’s her, but I can’t rip my eyes away. I’ve never been so attracted to a woman in my life.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

Sensing my stare, Cecelia slowly turns to me, her smile fading when I cup the back of her head and pull her close.

The ever-present buzz increases as I sweep my tongue along her lower lip, capturing a droplet of lingering wine on the corner before pulling away, our lips brushing.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

Feeding from the charged current continually humming between us, she stares back at me, equally as ensnared.

Fuck it.

The kiss starts deep, going past what I went in for, lasting for long, blissful seconds, maybe more, as she clutches me to her. It’s when my chest rattles in awareness that I break the kiss abruptly and stand. “Let’s go take a shower.”

Her eyes light as she reads the meaning between the words—that our time together isn’t over as far as I’m concerned. Not even close.

And I’m right because it rains for the next two days.

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”

— Le Petit Prince , Antoine de Saint-Exupéry