Chapter 16
Bianca
A few days later, I’m much better. I’m not done the antibiotics, but I have to take all of them, I know. I feel well enough to be at work though, and I’m worried about what I’m going to find. Jake and Rosa update me on everything that’s been done, and they’ve managed things fine, and over at Bar Down, I discover that Jansen has, too.
Wow. Things have gone smoothly. I review Jansen’s notes, impressed.
“You did great,” I tell him.
He dips his chin. “Thanks.”
We’re in the lab along with Antonio discussing punchdown schedules. I’ve been thinking about him for days. Okay, maybe not when I was really sick, but when I started feeling better, I remembered his kisses and how I melted inside and how good he tasted. And I remember his tenderness and concern when I was sick.
I study his stubble-shadowed jaw, sculped cheekbones, and firm lips. And I melt a little again.
Our eyes meet. He’s burning me up with his eyes, and the tension that arcs between us has heat rippling in my belly.
Diego tromps in. “We have a problem.”
I blink, yanked back to reality.
“Some of the grapes in block ten have black rot.” He holds up a bunch of grapes. Most of the grapes are small, dark, and withered.
I stare at them, my stomach cramping. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Cab sauv, right?”
“Yep.”
“This doesn’t sound good,” Jansen says.
“Black rot is not good,” I confirm.
“Some of the pickers discovered it this morning,” Diego says.
“What did they do with the grapes?” I ask.
“They stopped picking right away and brought these to me.”
“We should go have a look.”
We leave Antonio in the cellar and Jansen, Diego, and I head out to block ten, a bit of a hike. Vineyards bigger than a few acres are partitioned into “blocks”, which usually grow a single varietal, and also divide different soil types or take into account the grade of the land and things like roads, fences, or streams. Block ten is only two acres, with about two thousand vines, a smaller section.
I sense Jansen’s worry as we tramp through the vines and we keep exchanging glances. I don’t blame him. Black rot is a fungus that’s a serious disease of both cultivated and wild grapes. It attacks all the green parts of the vine—leaves, shoots, stems, tendrils, and fruit. Obviously the most damaging consequence is to the grapes. It can result in complete crop losses.
I want to reach out and grab his hand and squeeze it. But I can’t do that.
We still haven’t had the “dinner” he promised me days ago. Every time we’re together I think about what I missed and when it’s going to happen and how good it’s going to be. I’ve never wanted someone like this.
I’ve had boyfriends. I liked them. I was attracted to them. But I’ve never felt this eagerness to see him, like, every time I come over to Bar Down. I’ve never felt this desperate, intense need layered with affection and admiration.
I was thinking tonight might be the night…especially with how he was looking at me earlier…but now this.
We check out the vines. As I move up one aisle and down the other side, I find numerous infected plants.
“I don’t know why I didn’t notice this,” Diego mutters. “I should have seen the lesions on the leaves.”
I don’t know what to say to him. Yeah, he should have. “You weren’t here in the spring,” I say, which is when the fungus should have been scouted for.
“What do we do?” Jansen forks his fingers into his hair, a frown etched into the sides of his mouth.
“It not great that we didn’t notice until now,” I say, staying calm. “But we did. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do this season.”
“I guess we can’t use any of these grapes?”
I suck in a breath. “Well. Studies have been done that show black rot of grapes doesn’t cause health problems if it’s incorporated into wine processing.”
His brow creases skeptically.
“But infected grapes can lower the flavor and aroma qualities of the wine. Also, the government regulates the levels of volatile acidity in wines that’s attributed to rot. You don’t want your reputation impacted by producing lower quality wine, or worse, bad wine.”
“Absolutely not.”
“This block is to be hand harvested.” I look around. “We need to talk to the workers and make sure they know about the fungus. All the workers, just in case.”
“What do we tell them?” Jansen asks. “What do we do?”
“Sometimes we’ve left the grapes on the ground,” Diego says. “I don’t recommend that. The pathogens can overwinter and become active in the spring.”
“Nope.” Jansen shakes his head.
“We could have them separate the bad grapes from the good, and put the bad ones in cull buckets,” Diego goes on. “But that’s a lot of extra work.”
“So…” Jansen lifts an eyebrow.
“It’s probably best to leave the bad clusters on the vines. Then after harvest we can come back and deal with them, or prune them during the winter.”
Jansen looks at me.
“Your call,” I say softly.
“Fuck.” He rubs his face. “Okay, leave them. Like you said, we’ll deal with them after harvest.”
Diego nods somberly. “Got it.” He looks at Jansen. “I’m sorry, boss.”
Jansen’s mouth thins.
I sense their frustration. “Guys, neither of you were here in the spring,” I remind them. “Things were in flux with the Wrights selling and you buying. It’s not unexpected that something got overlooked. Let’s be glad it’s just this one block, and it’s not a big block.”
They both nod, but I don’t know if I’ve convinced them. I can tell Jansen hates to lose. He’s a determined competitor.
When we’re alone, I grab his arm. “Hey. Talk to me.”
His face is steely. “About what?”
“I know you’re pissed about the black rot.”
He gives one curt nod.
“Do you blame Diego?”
“No.”
“You blame yourself.” I pause. “Don’t you?”
“I’m the owner,” he says quietly. “Ultimately, I’m responsible.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about this.”
“I’m not.” His mouth is a thin line.
I gaze at him. He says nothing. “Yes, you are,” I say gently. “Don’t do that. There are going to be ups and downs. Successes and failures.”
He looks away, then shoves a hand into his hair. “Yeah.” He exhales a long breath. “One of my hockey coaches used to tell us, ‘you either win or you learn.’ I always tried to learn when we didn’t win.”
Something spins in my chest, warm and syrupy. “Yeah. That.”
He gives me a reluctant smile. “Thanks.”
I shrug. “You’re the one with the pithy aphorism.”
He barks out a laugh. “Okay.”
I pause, waiting for…something. An invitation? Some kind of overture? Well. “I have to get back to Caparelli. Lots to do on the sauvignon blanc grapes. It looks like a great harvest. The Brix is exactly where we want it.”
“Go.” He smiles and waves his hands.
I call over my shoulder, “I’ll be back later. I have to finish logging my data and work on the plan for tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Over at Caparelli, I hunt down Jake to talk to him about the grosso grapes. We’ve started harvesting them and I think they’re really good. Not good enough to use on their own, but perfect for blending.
“The warm weather has been good for them,” Jake says.
“Yes. So, what do you think about blending them with the merlot? From my early tasting, it’s very fruity this year.”
He purses his lips. “We often combined merlot with cab sauv.”
“I know. But I want to use the grosso grapes. They’re not common and I think we could have something really unique.”
“Like what?”
“Well, the classic Bordeaux blend is merlot, cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, petit verdot, and malbec.”
“Petit verdot doesn’t do well here. It needs more warmth.”
“Right. But I’m thinking of using the grosso instead of it.”
“Ahhhh.”
“It’d be like a New World Old World wine.”
He grins.
“The acidity and tannins from the grosso will add complexity to all the red fruit flavors from the malbec and the spice of the cabernet. The cabernet franc will add luscious aromatics.”
“I like it.”
Yay!
He updates me more about how harvest is going in the various blocks as we walk back to the crush pad. I spend some time there and then head back to the lab at Bar Down.
It’s late. The tasting room is closed, most people have gone home. But Jansen’s in his office with his laptop open, as he often is in the evening.
“I’m back.”
He looks up at me and a slow spreads across his face, his eyes warm. “You are.”
“I’ll be in the lab for a while.”
He nods. “Need any help?”
“Sure.”
He rises and walks toward me. And my feet are glued in place as I watch him, with his athletic saunter and horny eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”
I blink. That sounds hot.
Focus.
I head to the lab, aware of his big presence behind me.
“I have to test the juice from the chardonnay grapes that were harvested today,” I tell him. “Our chardonnay. Also your sauvignon blanc.”
“Double the work,” he murmurs. “I really do appreciate what you’re doing.”
“I’m having fun,” I say honestly.
“Even though you ended up sick in bed.”
I scrunch up my face. “That was a freak thing.”
We enter the lab.
“What are you testing for?” he asks me.
“A bunch of stuff. Brix, pH, titratable acidity. Yeast, malic acid concentration. Microbial stability.”
“I love it when you talk science to me.”
I laugh.
He knows what to do now and we both get busy. Haha, bad choice of words. I want to get busy with him so bad I’m sweating.
I log test results into my computer. Jansen checks the weather forecast for tomorrow and he actually makes the plan for tomorrow’s harvest for Bar Down while I work on Caparelli.
I’m sitting at the counter that runs along one wall, Jansen in another rolling chair next to me. I lean back and let out a long breath. “Okay. I think we’re done.”
Our eyes meet.
Warmth curls through me. I can’t move. The air around us is electric and I gaze at him, transfixed. He watches me, too, eyes searching mine, and heat builds between us.
“I still owe you dinner,” he says hoarsely, rolling his chair closer.
“Yes. You do.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. Excitement flutters in my belly.
He curls his hands around the arms of my chair and drags me toward him until our knees are touching and his muscled arms box me in. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s been hell the last few days.”
I let my head fall back to stare into his face. “I know. Me too.”
“After I kissed you that night…Jesus.”
The way he looks at me scorches me, making me feel so wanted. Heat slides through my veins, and my inner muscles low in my belly clench hard. My lips part, longing to feel his mouth on mine. “I’m sorry I got sick.”
He closes his eyes, a sliver of a smile on his mouth. “Fuck, don’t apologize for that.” He opens his eyes and the corners crinkle up. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling…like I might still have a fever.”
His eyebrows twitch.
“Not really,” I add quickly. “I’m just really…hot.”
“Ah. Understandable. I am, too.”
I can’t help but let my eyes drop to the fly of his jeans. I roll my lips in, seeing the imposing bulge there. I let my gaze wander back up, over the thin cotton plaid shirt that drapes from his strong shoulders over his muscle-packed chest and flat abs. I linger at his throat. A pulse beats there and I want to lay my mouth there, breathe in the scent of his skin, and taste him.
Then I meet his eyes again. I remember the heat of his mouth and the feel of his body against mine and I want that again, so much. And more.
He leans closer, eyes going heavy-lidded, and presses his mouth to mine. Yes… He’s warm and firm and I lean into the kiss, opening for him. A low groan rumbles in his chest and his tongue licks into my mouth.
That fever inside me flares up hotter. I need to be closer to him. A moan leaks from my lips.
His hands move from the arms of the chair to my bare thighs. I watch them, big and rough and tanned on my smoother skin. My skin immediately tingles everywhere, and heat gathers between my legs. Our kiss goes scorching, wilder, frenzied as we strain toward each other.
“God, Jansen.” I let my head fall back as he drags his lips down my throat and sucks. “Please. I need…”
“Please what?” He licks my skin. “What do you need, Bianca?”
“You.” I whimper. “I’ve been thinking about you, too. Dreaming about you.”
“Yeah? Have you been masturbating thinking of me?”
My belly flips with excitement and I quiver.
“Because I’ve been thinking about you.” He kisses the side of my neck, then nibbles at my ear lobe. Shivers flow down my spine, the aching need inside me torturous. “Jerking off every day in the shower thinking of you. Every night in my bed.” His mouth slides over my cheek. “Imagining you.”
“Y-yes. I have.”
“Jesus.” He growls out the word and jerks back. His chest is heaving and his eyes blaze at me. “Right now, Bianca. Right here.”
My eyes widen and my pussy squeezes again. “We can’t. Not here.”
His eyes shift around the room. “You’re right. This is a shit place. Come on.” He pushes up out of his chair so fast it shoots across the floor, grabbing my hands and pulling me up, too. “Let’s go.”
He turns, still holding my hand, and tows me toward the door.
I scramble to keep up with him on rubbery legs. “Where?” I ask, my voice high and thin.
He doesn’t answer, just strides out of the lab, down the hall, and into the dark reception area of the tasting room. Is he taking me to his place?
No. Apparently not. He stops at one of the leather couches in front of the big stone fireplace, and with his hands on my shoulders he pushes me down into it.
My eyelashes are fluttering wildly. “Here?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait any longer.” He bends and unbuttons my shorts, then pauses. He meets my eyes. “Okay?”
I blink. Swallow. Glance around the room.
It’s beautiful here, with a thick rug on the stone floor, tall tropical plants in the corners, and leather couches and chairs, but it’s also like an atrium, with glass walls and a high glass ceiling supported with beams. It’s dark outside and it’s dark in here, but…I bite my lip. “Someone could come.”
“No one will come now.” His low, steady voice sways me, and also turns me on even more.
“I don’t want to wait either.” I press a hand between my legs.
His eyes go darker and he draws in a sharp breath. “Are you aching there, sweetheart?”
“Yes. So bad. I need you.”
He straightens and moves to the fireplace, picking up the remote sitting on the mantel. A push of a button has flames flickering to life, the only light in the room. It gilds his profile and outlines his body as he turns back to me, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt.
Ohhhhh. God.
I unzip my shorts and shimmy out of them and my panties.
“Jesus.” He stops in front of me, then drops to a crouch. “Bianca.”
My stomach swoops.
He pulls off my work boots and thick socks—so sexy! God, I should be wearing silk lingerie, not cut offs and work boots. Then every thought flies out of my head as he clasps my ankles and lifts them, setting my heels on the edge of the couch. I fall back into the cushions, revealed to him, spread wide and open. I can feel the beat of my heart right there, between my legs.
He stares at me for long moments, boldly, ravenously. Intimately. My mouth sags open, panting, watching his face.
“So beautiful,” he growls. He lifts his head and grabs the hem of my T-shirt, lifting it. I help him pull it off over my head, both our hands frantic, and flick open the front clasp of my bra. It stays on, hanging at my sides, as his hands cover my breasts. “Good Christ. You are perfect.” He cups my soft flesh, molds it in his palms, squeezes it firmly.
I swell into his hands, my head falling back. “Ohhhh God.”
“Need a taste. Just a taste of these stunners. Shit, Bianca, your tits are gorgeous.”
More shivers roll through me, hard, rocking me.
Kneeling on the floor, he leans in and closes his lips around one nipple. Sensation shoots to my pussy as he tugs and licks. I’m burning up, pleasure rippling through me, the throb between my legs echoed in my wrists, my throat.
He sucks and nibbles on one breast, then the others, and then with a groan he kisses his way down my stomach. His rough hands glide over my thighs and butt as he kisses my pussy, then licks me. He lifts one of my feet and sets it on his shoulder, giving him more room, and he dives back in as if he’s starving, his tongue sliding over my wet flesh in satiny licks, his lips pulling gently at me, his teeth grazing me.
I push a hand into his thick hair, my fingertips digging into his skull as he eats at me. Flames burn over me, heat spirals through me, swirling in my bloodstream, sensation lashing every nerve ending. Oh my God, he’s good at this. So good.
I can’t even think any more, just feel.
He shoves his fingers inside me, forcing a cry from my throat and then he lifts up over me to kiss me again while he finger fucks me, filling the air with wet, slick sounds, filling me with stunning flickers and flares and heat. “Tight,” he murmurs. “Such a tight, tiny pussy.”
He catches my lower lip in his teeth, sucks my tongue, and I can only whimper at this sextravaganza. I’m floating, coming apart, and I want this to go on forever, but I also want more.
He moves back, shoves my thighs back and up, and then buries his face again between my legs.
“Yes! Yes…” My head rolls from side to side, overcome as he licks me, parts my flesh and licks deeper, then sucks me. “Oh God. Oh God.”
Sensation twists inside me, almost painfully, that fast. I thread my fingers into his hair. I want to tell him to stop. I want all of him, inside me, but it’s too late and my orgasm submerges me, steals my words, my body convulsing against his lips and tongue.
“Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m asking for now.
He straightens and my fingers fumble at the opening of his jeans. Watching my face, he opens them and is out of them in a heartbeat, and he’s in front of me, naked, gorgeous, all muscles and sleek skin and oh yeah, his impressive erection. His cock is mouth wateringly beautiful, straining toward me, thick, engorged, dark with lust. I’m still panting, still blurry-eyed, but I want to study him and admire him.
“Look at me like that and you get fucked for sure,” he growls.
“Oh God.” Heat spirals straight to my pussy at his words, my belly fluttering. “That’s what I want. Fuck me.”
He makes a rough noise. He has a condom in his hand; he must have pulled it from his jeans pocket and I’m grateful in a distracted sort of way.
“W-will the condom fit on you?” I ask breathlessly.
He huffs a laugh, his mouth curving as he opens the package then rolls the latex over his length. It fits, but it’s stretched tight and thin, and the empty ache inside me intensifies. I may never breathe normally again after this.
He circles an arm around my waist and lifts me, spinning me onto my back on the couch, and I stare up at him, startled. Then he comes down with me, parting my thighs, kneeling between them. “Okay?”
In the depths of my mind that aren’t consumed by lust, I appreciate his check in and want him to know I am enthusiastically consenting. “Yes. Yes, please.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off my face as he positions himself, absorbing my reaction, the breathy sounds I make as he takes himself in hand and nudges at my entrance. “This might take some work.”
“I’m ready.”
He watches himself as he grips his cock at the base and slicks the head up and down through my wetness. “So wet,” he rasps. “Wet everywhere. So beautiful. I’m dying, Bianca.”
“Me, too. I need you inside me.”
“I’m out of patience.” His jaw tightens. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. I don’t care.” He pushes into me, and yeah, there’s a bite of pain, but then he fills me so lusciously, thickly, and it’s magnificent. I’m glutted, stretched. He’s so deep inside me, I press a hand to my stomach.
“Fuck,” he grits out. He props himself on straight arms above me, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”
“Me too,” I whisper. I pet his back, now damp with sweat. I’m bursting, too full of sensation. I can’t hold it in, and I’m making noises I’ve never made before as I squeeze around him.
“Fuck,” he says again. “Jesus, Bianca.” He starts to move his hips, slow, slow, then his caution turns to frenzy as he fully penetrates me. Fills me faster, harder, pistoning into me, watching my face, and it’s so intimate and intense my chest is filling, expanding, and that twisting feeling inside me resumes, this time starting at a higher point and spiraling up fast.
I watch him too, the way his forehead pleats, the fullness of his bottom lip, the haze in his eyes. “Kiss me.”
He kisses me again, hard, a little dirty, a lot desperate, plunging his tongue inside, sucking at me, tasting me so deeply. I link my arms around his neck and hook my ankles behind his back. “I love it. I love your cock inside me.” I lick his jaw, then suck his ear lobe.
Noises slip from my mouth, I can’t stop them as he fucks me. He makes noises, too, guttural, deep noises as we move together. I can’t believe this is happening, but I’m swept up in it, in desire and excitement, lost in it all.
The sounds of our bodies slapping together fills the room along with our groans and whimpers and sighs. The light of the fireplace flickers and ripples around us. I grab onto the edge of the couch to brace myself as Jansen pounds into me.
“I’m close,” he grits out. “Gonna come…”
I clench around him, letting that sweet coil inside me tighten and build. “Me too…”
I focus on it, wanting it, heat racing over my skin, my pelvis lifting against every thrust of his body. I just…need…a little more… I slip my hand between us, fingers finding my clit.
He grunts. “Yeah. Want you to come.”
I circle my fingertips over the sensitive knot and sensation spirals up so hot and fast it steals my breath. I cry out as I shudder and press up into him, shattering, falling into a fiery ecstasy that consumes me.
I curl my fingers into his hair as his strokes quicken, his hips strong and powerful, his cock driving into me, and waves of pleasure draw out almost painfully. He buries his face in the side of my neck when he comes, his body going tight, his groin pressed against me, his breathing ragged. “Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck. Bianca. Jesus.”
I clasp his hips with my thighs and we ride it out together, such beautiful, shocking bliss.