Chapter 25
Tristan
My boots bite into the soil as I chase Raine through the vineyard, the night tasting like rain and adrenaline. She looks back once—gold hair a live flame in the lightning—laughing as if the whole valley is ours to set on fire.
I hold back, just enough to let her think she can outrun me. Let her laughter circle between the rows. Let the need sharpen.
“Come on, wild honey,” I call, my breath low behind the mask. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
She veers right, exactly where I want her—toward the narrow cut that leads to the lower terrace and the old press. I catch the glint of her smile in the dark, and it punches straight through me.
There’s no escaping me.
And judging by the way she runs, she knows it.
I pump my arms and legs, increasing my speed. The vines thrum at my shoulders. She darts between posts, slipping just out of reach, a flash of bare face and wicked laughter. The mask turns my breath into a steady drum in my ears, every exhale a countdown.
Five more strides, and I hook an arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet. She gasps—half squeal, half shock—as I spin her into the wooden post. The night snaps into focus: her pulse against my palm, her chest heaving under my hand, the rain pearling across her lips.
“Caught you,” I murmur through the mask.
She stares up at me, honey eyes blazing. “Took you long enough.”
Her hands slide to my shoulders, fingers curling in my shirt. The world shrinks to inches between us, the heat rolling off her in waves. I brace a forearm beside her head, caging her there, not touching where we both want.
“Say it,” I rasp. “Tell me you want this.”
“Yes.” The word shakes, but it’s sharp. “I want you.”
“Rules,” I manage, because I have to hear them. “Say stop, and I’ll stop. Say waterfall if you need me to pull you out of your head.”
Her mouth curves. “I won’t need it.” A beat of silence passes before she says softly, “But I like that you asked.”
Lightning forks across the sky. She reaches up, taps the edge of the mask. “Leave it on.”
“Whatever you want, wild honey.”
I crowd closer. Her spine presses to the post; my body fits to hers like it’s always been meant to. I lift the mask only enough to brush my mouth against her throat, turning her breath ragged. She tilts her head, offering more.
My hand spans her hip, guiding, claiming, not rushing. Not yet. I want the tremble. I like the way her fingers tighten like she’s falling and choosing it.
“Tristan,” she whispers, and my name in her voice is a fuse.
“Here?” I ask against her skin. “Or make me carry you to the press house?”
“Here,” she breathes. “Now.”
I lift the mask onto my head, letting it shield our faces as raindrops fall. My lips find hers—hard, hungry, grateful—and she answers with a heat that steals everything I thought control meant. Kisses turn deeper; the night tilts.
Clothes become a problem we solve by instinct—buttons fumbled, fabric dragged, skin found.
She arches, a desperate sound catching in her throat when my hands map the lines I’ve been starving for.
I murmur against her ear, telling her what I want, what I’ll give, the kind of promises that turn her shiver into a plea.
“Please,” she says, and it undoes me.
My lips trace over soft skin smelling of wild honey and rain. Her lips part when I suck her nipple into my mouth, then gently bite down. She moans and arches, one hand on my shoulder, the other holding the mask on top of my head.
With a growl, I spread her legs, then drop to my knees to feast on her. She grips the post with one hand, while my hands grip her ass cheeks, keeping her right where I want her.
I dive in like a man starved, tasting every inch of her pussy until she’s begging and trembling, pulling away right before she comes.
“Thought you could outrun me, wild honey.” I tsk against her, and she jerks from the motion. “There’s no escape. You’re mine.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Yours,” she whispers. “Please, Tristan.”
“Please, what? Make you come?” I lap at her again, then suck on her clit hard, making her gasp.
“Yes. Please make me come.”
“My pleasure.” Then I devour her like salvation until she detonates around me.
But I don’t stop. I keep going until she comes again with a sob, pleading for me to stop.
My hands are on her hips, holding her steady, as I stand, my mouth covering hers.
“My turn.” I pull back, lowering the mask to cover my face. “Show me how much you want me.”
She licks her lips, immediately dropping to her knees. I reach up, my palm flattening against the post as she licks the precum from my tip.
“You’re so big,” she whispers as she wraps a hand around the base.
“You can take me.” My finger lightly traces her jaw. “Show me.”
She opens her mouth and takes me deep. I suck in a breath, my hand tangling in her hair.
“That’s it. Suck me, baby.”
She moans around me, taking me until she gags before she pulls back.
But I don’t give her long before I’m pulling her deeper, moaning from the feel of her hot mouth around me, taking me deep.
My hands twist in her hair as I stare down at her from behind the mask. Tears and saliva mix, pooling at her chin. The sight nearly undoes me. She’s a beautiful mess. My beautiful mess.
“Fuck. I don’t wanna come yet.” Pulling out, I lift her, settling her against the post.
She wraps around me, trusting, fierce. The world narrows to heat and breath as I stare into her eyes, thrusting inside her. She moans, her nails slipping against my wet back as the rain falls around us. Her legs wrap around me, pulling me closer like she’s claiming me, too.
When I move, she meets me, and the night breaks open—slow at first, then deeper, a rhythm that feels like something we’ve always known. Her fingers slide beneath the mask, palms on my jaw, grounding me while everything else comes apart.
“Eyes on me,” I say. Her gaze locks with mine, rain glittering on her lashes. Her soft, wrecked sounds thread through the thunder, and I’m gone for her—lost and home in the same breath.
We burn through the dark together, chasing and catching and giving in until her body tightens around me and the vineyard goes silent, like the valley itself is holding its breath.
She screams my name as she clenches around me.
I follow her over the edge with a broken curse and a prayer, the mask fogging, her name in my mouth, my hands too full of her to ever let go.
For a while, there’s only rain and the wild drum of our hearts.
I lower her slowly, keep her pinned to me as if the night might take her back. The mask feels like another heartbeat against my skin. She reaches up and eases it off, eyes searching my face like she’s memorizing the man underneath.
“Mine,” she whispers, her thumb brushing my cheekbone.
“Yours,” I answer, hoarse and certain.
She kisses me—soft this time, reverent—and tucks herself against my chest. I wrap her in my arms, the two of us breathing in time while the storm softens.
“Tristan?” she says after a beat, her voice husky, satisfied.
“Yeah?”
“Chase me again tomorrow.”
A laugh shakes out of me, raw and real. “Every day,” I promise against her hair. “Every day for the rest of my life.”
We stand there in the vines until the thunder turns to a purr and the lights from the house call us home.