Chapter 19
Rosa
J ake’s mouth is hot and eager against mine, and I open to him immediately. The brush of his beard against my cheek sends a shiver down my spine. Like I told him downstairs, it’s soft and tickles just a little, and I bite back a groan as I imagine that touch in other, more intimate places.
Just like he promised.
In the back of my mind, I’m sure “Do the Right Thing” Rosa is freaking out, but there’s something freeing about letting go of all the must s and should s and responsibilities and just doing what I want, for once.
Reaching out and taking what Jake is so freely giving.
It’s not love or romance, but I don’t need those in my life. He’ll be leaving at the end of the harvest season anyway.
We’re both going into this with our eyes open. Scratching an itch that’s been hovering under the surface of our skin since the moment we saw each other under that tree on Take Flight’s property.
I want Jake, and he’s made it clear he wants me, too.
Why not take what we can get while we can?
After all, we are husband and wife.
I smother a giggle.
“What?” Jake leans back, hands gripping the base of his T-shirt. With one smooth motion, he strips it off over his head and tosses it into a corner without even looking.
Jesus, how does he make that look sexy?
“You’re so…God.”
“Nope. Still Jake.” He smirks as I roll my eyes. Then I reach out and place my palm on that solid, muscled bare chest, and the smile falls away, replaced by a heat in his eyes that I can almost feel.
He looks so different, so masculine . The last time I saw Jake naked, he was barely twenty, all lean gangly limbs and adolescent frame. Now he’s filled out, broad shoulders and taut stomach, with more chest hair than I remember.
His flat nipple tightens under my hand as I stroke him from the shoulder down. His knees, on either side of my waist, hold me in place, and I wriggle impatiently. I want to put my mouth on that nipple, suck and lick and tug at it with my teeth.
I want to press a kiss to his stomach, watch the muscles ripple as I explore. I want to follow that thin trail of hair from his navel, disappearing down under the waistband of the gray sweatpants he put on after his shower when he finally came in from the fields, washing off the dirt and sweat of the day.
I want to get dirty and sweaty with him.
I want .
As if he can read my mind—and maybe he can; at this point I’m not ruling it out—he shuffles back and swings his leg to one side of the bed, so he’s no longer holding me down. Not that I’d object, under the right circumstances, but right now I want to be able to touch him back. He stretches out by my side, his body heat radiating where he’s pressed up against me. I lean forward, kissing his collarbone, breathing in the faint scent of bodywash and clean, fresh male.
He trails a finger along the neckline of my tank top, leaving goose bumps all along the skin. He slides his hand over my breast, cupping it in his palm, and my nipple beads under his touch. I can’t help it—I arch up, pressing into his hand, wordlessly begging for more.
Jake swears under his breath and pulls the tank top off, throwing it in the opposite direction of his shirt. By the end of this my bedroom floor is going to be covered with clothing items in random locations.
And I love it.
I sit up, reaching behind me to unhook my bra, sending up a silent thanks to past me for choosing something a little sexier than usual this morning. I told myself it was for a boost of confidence on the way to the courthouse—nothing like cute lingerie to add a little spring to your step—but I wouldn’t be surprised if some part of me expected, or maybe hoped for, this outcome.
Jake swears again as I drop the bra off the side of the bed, leaving my breasts bare. I start to cover them, but he stops my hands with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t hide,” he says. “You’re beautiful.”
And yeah, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before. He’d been my first, back when we were teenagers. We’d found places all over both our wineries to have sex where no one would find us. But I’m not going to lie—I’ve changed over the years, and I’m not that tight-body teen anymore.
I glance at his face, looking for any hint of disappointment. But all I can see is want .
I can feel heat race over my neck and chest. He smiles, almost predatory in his gaze, and traces the blush across the tops of my breasts with his fingertips.
Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, and my head drops back with a groan.
His lips explore the swell of my breasts, tongue dipping out to stroke and taste. He traces circles around my nipple, getting closer with each pass until he takes it into his mouth and sucks gently.
My hands fly up to his head, fingers threading through his hair. He pulls off with a soft pop . “You can pull my hair,” he says, his voice like gravel. “I like it.”
Huh. That’s new.
I give a gentle tug, and he moans around my nipple, sucking even more enthusiastically. He switches sides, and his hand strokes the first one, thumb brushing over the damp, beaded nub, while his mouth works the other. His free hand slides down my stomach, under the waistband of my shorts, and teases me there.
I’m surrounded by sensation, pleasure rushing through me from multiple angles, and I whimper. His beard brushes against the underside of my breast, and it sends shivers throughout my body.
Dimly, in the back of my mind, I wonder where the hell he learned how to do all this, but I lock it away. If I can benefit from his skill, it really doesn’t matter.
Jake pulls back, his fingers toying with the button on my shorts. “Do you want me to take these off?”
I blink at him. I’m so turned on I can barely understand the spoken word.
“Rosa.” He smiles softly at me. “I’d like to see you naked. Is that something you’re interested in?”
Oh. Got it. I nod eagerly. “Yes. Yep. Uh-huh.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Good to hear it.” With a teasing smile, he unbuttons my shorts and slides the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet of my bedroom. I do my best not to squirm when his knuckles brush my hips as he pulls the shorts down my legs.
He drops them off the end of the bed—yet another location for our wayward clothing—and then leans down and presses a kiss right on top of my lace undies.
God.
He smiles up at me, his eyes hooded, and he hooks his thumbs under the edges of the underwear and drags them slowly down my legs. Following the fabric down, he kisses the inside of my thigh. The side of my knee. The outside curve of my calf. My ankle.
“Jake,” I whisper, my throat tight.
He looks up from the bottom of the bed, and his eyes soften. He crawls up the mattress, hovering over me again, and kisses my forehead. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my skin.
I blink against the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes, then squeeze them shut.
This is supposed to be a fun, mind-clearing romp, not something sweet and thoughtful and soft. I need to nudge it back into romp territory before my heart gets involved.
“I believe you promised me a new beard-related experience,” I tease when I can get my voice under control. I squint one eye open and see his face above mine, the soft smile turning into something more heated, more hungry.
“That I did,” he agrees, smoothing his hand down my side, tracing my curves. “And I keep my promises.”
He settles between my legs, his shoulders pressing my thighs wide. Then he leans forward and licks.
That does it. Every worry, every stress flies out of my head with each pass of his tongue. It’s heat and slick, perfect pressure. It’s the gentle brush of his beard against my thighs, the tease on my mound.
He takes his time, his tongue and lips and hands exploring me with a single-minded focus that overwhelms me.
I grip his head with my hands, and yeah, I tug a little. The groan that rips from his mouth makes me clench in the most delightful way.
Too soon, I feel my orgasm building, spiraling from my center out. I tug his hair again, a silent warning, but he just dives in even more enthusiastically. And that’s it—I break, wave after wave of pleasure washing through me. When it ends, I’m wrung out. Sated. Empty in the best way.
Jake kisses his way up my body, finally stretching out on the pillow next to me. He grins. “Hi.”
I grab his head and kiss him, pouring everything I can’t say out loud into the kiss. I taste myself on his tongue, and a spark rolls through me. My hand slides down his chest, past his stomach, down to his gray sweatpants. I break the kiss and pull back, my mouth in a pout. “You’re not naked yet.”
“Definitely an oversight.” He shoves his hands into the sides of his sweats and pushes them down, along with his underwear. He lifts his hips to pull them all the way off, and I bite back a groan.
Then he drops back onto the comforter, his cock hard against his belly. I wrap my fingers around it and give it an experimental stroke.
Jake’s head drops back onto the pillow, and he groans. “Give me your hand, sweetheart.”
I look at him quizzically but let go and place my hand in his.
He raises it to his mouth and licks it, thoroughly. Twinges of pleasure ripple through my body.
When my hand is well lubricated, he lets go, and I take him in my grip again. This time the slide is easier, slicker, and my movements speed up as I watch his expression. I can see his pleasure build, and I shiver.
“I’m close,” he warns, but I redouble my efforts. I want this—I want his pleasure as much as I wanted my own. His body tenses, and he comes, painting his stomach and chest and spilling over my hand.
He lies there for long moments, breathing hard, while I curl into his side and wonder what’s going to happen next.
Apparently what happens next in Jake’s world is he gathers himself, swings his legs off the bed, and disappears out of my room. I’m just starting to spiral when he returns, carrying a warm washcloth. He cleans my hand and between my thighs and winks at me as he takes it back into the bathroom. When he comes back, he pulls down the comforter and maneuvers me under the sheets.
He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Sleep well, Rosa. I know I will.”
“You’re going?” My voice cracks, and I wince. “I mean, yeah. Of course.”
He nods and grabs his sweats off the floor. “I need to clean up the front porch first, as promised. Don’t worry—I’ll close up downstairs.”
“Thanks,” I say, injecting some false cheer into my voice. “Appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” He finishes pulling up his sweats and winks at me again. “And believe me, I mean it.”
I listen to his footsteps fade as he goes downstairs, then the front door opens and closes.
I’m not sure how I feel. I mean, physically, I definitely know how I feel. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had an orgasm with someone else. I feel more relaxed, more sated than I have in a long while. Little sparks still zing under my skin.
But emotionally—hell, who knows? I should be happy Jake is keeping it on a physical-only level. Sex is one thing. Sleeping together—something else completely.
It’s a good reminder that whatever we get up to for the rest of this summer, it has an end date. And I’d better keep that in mind instead of harboring happily-ever-after fantasies.
* * *
When I wake up the next morning, Jake is gone.
Not only from my bed—as promised, he went back to his own room as soon as he finished tidying up the porch—but from the house as well.
I can’t explain it, but when the house is empty, I can tell. The silence is different, the energy lowered.
I pull on a bathrobe and head downstairs, nodding to myself when I confirm Jake’s absence. The coffee pot is half-full, my favorite mug sitting next to it. There’s a cereal bowl in the sink, and the milk carton has been rinsed and is ready for recycling.
I hmph a little and open the fridge. Thank God I’ve got half-and-half, because if Jake had finished off the last of the dairy products before I got my coffee, there would be hell to pay.
On the other hand, I need to get groceries, so I pull out the notepad and a pen and sit down at the table with it—and my perfectly doctored coffee.
List completed, I take a shower and get dressed to go into town. Then I shoot Jake a text, letting him know that if he or our interns want anything from the store, message me back with the requests.
The parking lot at the grocery store is mostly empty when I arrive, a benefit of shopping early. With any luck, I’ll be able to avoid running into anyone I know this time.
My luck runs out in the produce department.
“Hi, Rosey,” Aunt Janet says, swooping over to kiss me on the cheek. “How are you, dear?”
At least one person at Belmonte still treats me the same way they did before we inherited.
She probably still sees me as that little kid who had to be “mothered” to within an inch of her life once Mama moved to Europe.
She lifts her thumb and scrubs at the bright pink mark I just know she left on my cheek.
Still at it, then.
“You look…” Her voice trails off as she really looks at me. “Actually, you look like you’re doing well.”
I plaster on a closed-lip smile. “I am doing well, thanks. How are you?”
“Oh, you know.” She waves a hand, encompassing everything I’m apparently supposed to know. “Busy, busy. You’d think with fewer vineyards to manage, Geno would have more time on his hands, but…”
So that’s awkward.
I turn around and grab a piece of produce at random, just for something to do. I’ll have to figure out what exactly cactus leaves can be used for. Later. “It’s good to hear things are going well,” I say, even though she’s said nothing of the sort.
“Well.” She fidgets with the strap of her purse, which confuses me. I’ve never seen Aunt Janet fidget with anything. “I just wish you would stop pretending to run Caparelli and join up with your uncle and cousins again.”
Pretending to run Caparelli? I breathe in, count to three, breathe out. “Aunt Janet, I am running Caparelli. And it’s going really well, too.”
Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but it is going well. Thanks to Jake and our interns.
She tilts her head, a sad look on her face. “Is it really? Trying to handle everything on your own?”
“I’m not on my own,” I blurt out. “Jake is doing an amazing job.”
Oh. Oh, shit. I wasn’t going to say that.
“And the interns,” I rush to add. “Emi and Javier are a great addition to the team.”
“You should be on your uncle’s team,” she argues. “Like you’ve been for the past ten years. This is a family business. The family needs you.”
I sigh. “Aunt Janet, I love you, but we both know the family never needed me. Not for the winery business anyway.”
“Of course we did! How can you say that?”
“Has Uncle Geno hired someone to replace me yet?”
There’s a long pause. “I—I’m not really sure…”
“Mm-hmm.” I toss a bag of onions into my shopping cart. Why I think I need a dozen onions, I can’t be sure, but it gives me something to do with my hands.
Aunt Janet’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, like she’s trying to come up with something more to say, when her eyes narrow and she asks, “Wait a minute. Jake? Who’s Jake?”
I was hoping she’d be distracted away from that topic. I clear my throat, try to inject a casual tone into my voice. “Jake Wright.”
“Your ex?”
Wait, how much does she know? Did Uncle Geno say something to her all those years ago?
Then I remember he was my boyfriend before he was my husband, so it’s not an unreasonable question. “Yes, my ex-boyfriend. Since Take Flight was sold, he offered to help out on Caparelli.”
“That’s—nice of him.”
“Yes, it is.” I flash a wide smile. “It’s been great seeing you, but I have to get back to Caparelli. Say hi to everyone for me!” And with that, I make a run for the freezer section.
On the way, I check my messages, but there’s nothing shopping-related from Jake, so I finish getting everything on my list and check out. I have to get out and get home without any more awkward family encounters.
* * *
It’s closing in on noon by the time I get back to Caparelli, so I put together a fruit salad and an easy chicken-wrap recipe. I’m pouring a bag of chips into a bowl when the back door opens. “Wash up,” I call out, putting the chips on the table next to the fruit. “Lunch is in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
Emi breezes in, her hair falling out of a ponytail and a sunburn across her nose. “I’m famished,” she says, pulling the lemonade out of the fridge. “But you don’t have to feed us every day. Really.”
Javier and Jake follow her into the kitchen. “Now, don’t be hasty,” Jake teases, putting a hand on my waist as he slides past me to the table. “Rosa’s food is really good.”
Just like that, I’m on fire again.
Then he turns to me. “She’s right, though. It’s not your obligation.”
There’s heat in his eyes, so obvious I’m surprised Emi and Javier haven’t picked up on it yet. My thighs clench.
I turn away and fuss with the food on the table, hardly able to breathe. “Either you help me eat it or I have leftovers for days. Up to you.”
They fall on the food like they haven’t eaten for weeks, even though I had dinner with Jake last night and saw the evidence of his breakfast this morning.
There was other eating going on last night, too, my brain helpfully supplies. I choke on my chicken wrap, and Jake has to pound my back so I can breathe again.
“Wrong pipe,” I croak, clearing my throat. I take a long swallow of lemonade and do my best not to look anyone in the eye until the end of the meal.
Emi and Javier chatter about the new pruning technique Jake’s been showing them. I turn to him and tilt my head. “Sounds like something I should know how to do,” I say.
He lifts one eyebrow. “You’re welcome to join us this afternoon.”
This man is going to be the death of me. “Can’t wait.”
* * *
Two hours later, sweat is dripping down my back, I have blisters on my thumbs, and my mouth feels like it has never experienced liquid.
And I’m having the time of my life.
It didn’t take long for me to get the hang of pruning the vines, and Jake gave me my own section to work on, just like Emi and Javier. The four of us work in silence mostly, shouting out a comment or observation from time to time across the rows of vines. With every row I complete, I feel more and more like a part of the team, like I’m making a difference.
Every few minutes, Jake makes the rounds, checking on us newbies (and yes, I’m counting myself as a newbie, too). He leans over my shoulder, watching as I trim a side shoot or pinch away some extra leaves. I can smell his shampoo this close and the leather of his work gloves. If I turn my head, I could press a kiss to his bearded cheek.
I face the vines, though, and try to focus on his directions, the minor adjustments that make the work that much more effective down the line. Jake leans in, murmurs praise into my ear, and walks down the row to see how Javier is doing.
I do my best not to melt into a puddle right there in the vineyard.
At least Javier doesn’t want to jump his bones every time he comes near. I mean, probably. The man is so damn sexy, I wouldn’t blame him.
Focus, I tell myself. There’s something different about the vines, something I can’t put my finger on, but I shake my head and let it go. It’s the growing season; I’m sure things change every single day.
It’s heading toward sundown when Jake finally calls an end to our work, and we troop down the hill to the house. There’s only a small section left, and the three of them are confident they’ll be finished early tomorrow.
Emi and Javier clean up and head home, while Jake and I take turns showering. I manage to avoid asking him to help me conserve water and shower with me—something I regret when I’m under the spray, alone.
I’m on edge, practically vibrating with the need to get my hands on Jake again.
But by the time I get downstairs, Jake is eating leftover pizza out of the box. “Sorry,” he mumbles around a bite. “I would have waited, but I’m meeting up with Wade tonight.”
“Of course,” I say. I’m not disappointed. I’m not. “Tell him I said hi.”
He shoves the rest of his pizza into his mouth, glances at his watch, and swears. “Don’t wait up,” he says as he heads to the front door. “And thanks for helping today. I really appreciate it.”
I wave goodbye and close the door behind him. Okay, yes, I was hoping for a repeat of last night.
Maybe he isn’t as interested in another round as he said he would be last night.
Oh well. If our bedroom games are just one and done, I can live with that.
Or at least I’m working really hard to convince myself that it’s true.
I clean up the kitchen and look around, trying to find something to keep me busy for the night. Finally, I decide it’s time for a bubble bath, a new book on my e-reader, and a mug of tea.
If I toss and turn until I hear him unlock the front door late that night, well, I’ll never tell.