Chapter 17
“What do you mean you normally don’t have guests at this time of year?” Maya demands.
I swallow the rest of my wine in a single gulp, suspecting I’m going to need the fortification. “That’s right.”
Her tone remains calm, but her eyes are anything but. They’re sparking blue flames. Still, she calmly takes a sip of her own drink before she poses her question. “Why make an exception for me?”
I should have expected Maya would put two and two together. Maybe then I could have eked out a response better than, “It didn’t seem right to say no to one of my friends.”
“It didn’t seem right,” she emphasizes.
“We’re friends.” I want to carve my heart out with a rusty pair of pruning shears.
Maya means so much more to me than just a friend, but I don’t want her to latch on to me because I kicked and my shot bounced off the goalpost. No, I want to support her and, if she’s ever ready, tuck her under my arm and run in for a Super Bowl-worthy touchdown.
“I wanted you here. It’s no more complicated than that. ”
She crosses her arms across her chest. Her voice drips with scorn. “So, you’re giving yourself all this additional work during harvest for little ole’ me?”
“Sounds bad, doesn’t it?” I wince.
“Sure does. Know why?”
“Why?” I’m dreading her answer.
“Because I know if the roles were reversed, and I’d done the same for you, you’d resent me for it. You’d be wondering, like I am right now, if it was pity, for your dear friend.” Her eyes are feral as she emphasizes the last word.
I open my mouth to respond, but I have no comeback.
Because what am I supposed to say? That when I saw her name on the reservation form, I didn’t give a shit if it meant helping the team by harvesting ripe grapes from their vines while carrying Maya on my every second I needed to walk the fields. I wanted her here with me.
I’d do anything to keep her with me, but only if that’s what she wants. Telling my heart to shut up, my mind tries to figure out the right words to placate her. I’m pulled from my desperate musing by the sound of her chair scraping against the stone.
Then her voice comes out, sharp as glass. “Let’s talk about being friends.”
Fuck.
“All night, you’ve been the perfect host—”
I gulp as she steadily walks around to my side of the table. Her heels rap against the floor in a perfect staccato. Sweat beads on my forehead. “I—”
She stops and immediately makes the illegal block sign used by refs on the field. “You just lost five yards of forward movement with that comment, Walsh.”
I push up from my chair, heart pounding. “I didn’t realize you were ready to move forward.”
Her hands fly to her hips. Her wild curls fly around as she tosses her head in divine feminine fury. “You almost kissed me and now I’m supposed to believe your so-called rule breaking is about friendship?” Deliberately, she steps backward. “I call unsportsmanlike acts. Ten-yard penalty.”
I shove my hand through my hair. “I don’t want to—”
“What?”
My eyes meet hers. “Ruin us.”
The air between us crackles. I move closer. Even as I do, Maya lets out a shuddering sigh. “Is it because you’re afraid to step up to the line of scrimmage, or is it because it’s me?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“After everything, do you really have to ask me that?” Her voice is quiet.
“I wanted to know everything about you the night we met on the rooftop.”
“Then why aren’t we giving this—us—a chance?”
I move until I’m within a few inches of her.
The rise and fall of her chest is noticeable in the silk shirt she’s wearing paired with her cords.
My dick rises hard and thick behind my dress slacks, knowing exactly who and what it wants.
Frustrated both with it and the situation, I snap, “What do you want me to do? To say? That I think about you? I do. That I’ve done so even when you were engaged? ”
Her chest rises with every quick inhale. “I’m not anymore.”
I snarl, “I couldn’t be in the same room with you before and not wonder what it would be like to kiss you, yet I was in the untenable position of standing up for your marriage to him.”
Her voice tries to soothe me. “I’m not marrying him.”
“Damn straight you’re not.” I step closer until our bodies are practically touching. “I can’t be near you anymore and not wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I didn’t want you to regret it. What if all you wanted was—”
She cuts me off. “What if I don’t want to be friends, Troy?”
The air around us stills. I’m certain my heart is somewhere being used for mulch at this point. I can do nothing but focus on forcing my mind to be calm because if I don’t, I’m certain it’s going to taunt me by saying, Told you so.
When her body finally brushes against mine, electricity shoots through every nerve ending. “What if your friendship isn’t enough? Not anymore.”
Her words knock me sideways. They hit harder than the tackle that took my NFL career away from me. I open my mouth to reply, but her finger against my lips stops me. It slowly drags down my lower lip, over my chin. I swallow and feel her nail graze my Adam’s apple.
The tip of that one finger runs down the front of my chest until she reaches my shirt placard. Then she grips it, rises onto her toes, and pulls my face down to hers before murmuring, “Here’s your chance to repeat the down.”
I don’t waste my chance. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I use the other to wrap gently around her neck—pulling her up into my kiss. My lips move over hers, parting them.
But Maya is no passive participant. Her lips are soft, but demanding. When she clutches me tighter, demanding more, everything I’ve been holding back comes forward.
She moans as our tongues tangle with one another. I feel her hands slide up my chest until they find purchase on my shoulders. I drink at her lips, sliding my tongue deep into the recesses of her mouth.
The taste of her is intoxicating. It’s wild, sweet, and mine. All mine.
Maya tastes like sacred wine, and I need more.
Now.
After another taste, I pull back. She whispers against my mouth, “Still think we’d be better off as just friends?”
I rest my forehead against hers, trying my damndest to regulate my breathing. “I was trying to be noble.”
“Save nobility for the vineyard. Be real with me,” she pleads. Then she adds, “Besides, I’m willing to bet on this. Us.”
“Betting’s illegal.” I duck my head and kiss the side of her neck.
She arches into my ministrations. “I’ll take my chances. You?”
A low, rough moan escapes me before I kiss her again. Slower, more reverent. An agreement with her assessment. When our lips slowly pull apart, I murmur, “This isn’t a game. Not to me.”
Her fingers tangle in my hair. “I didn’t come here for this.”
“I know.”
“But I want to give this a chance.”
“So do I.” I brush my thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Do you want dessert?”
She smiles and presses against me. “I thought that’s what we were having.”
This time, when our lips meet, I stop thinking about anything but us.
I know nothing in my life will ever taste the same again.