Nothing But a Good Wine (Wine & Rock -n- Roll)

1. Felicity

1

Felicity

E verything about this wedding is a joke, and I’m the punchline. At least that’s what it feels like when I’m standing in the wedding venue I picked, on the day I’d chose, watching my cousin marry the man I was supposed to.

Messy, right?

I’ve already lost track of the number of pitying looks, side eye, whispers, and whatever other judgment people want to pass on me as I continuously yank the hot pink strapless dress up so I’m not indecently spilling out of the damn thing.

It’s useless. There’s no hiding my curves, they’re just that generous and the strapless push-up bra currently suffocating me isn’t helping matters.

“Eyes up here, buddy,” I grunt at the bartender.

His head snaps up and he gives me an inviting grin.

Ugh, no thanks.

“Pinot noir, please.”

He gets the drink and slides it over to me along with a napkin bearing his number, but all I do is give him a tight smile and hurry off away from the crowd.

I’ve survived the ceremony, posed for photos, applauded and toasted the couple while serenely smiling throughout the bland, tasteless dinner, and escaped for a moment’s peace while the couple had their first dance.

No one can say I didn’t do my duty.

Family first. Always.

Sometimes, even at my own expense.

I expel a heavy breath and move further into the shadows, under the blanket of twinkling stars, and sip my wine. I let my shoulders sag and fight the urge to glug the whole thing and try to forget that this was supposed to be my dream wedding.

Maybe I should just go home. Crack open a book, nurse a bottle of my best wine, and spend my night the way I spend all of them these days—alone.

A year ago, I booked the Wakefield Villa and Winery as an all-inclusive dream wedding venue. It had space for our enormous family to gather, a breathtaking view of the vineyards, a beautiful outdoor stage and dancefloor, and romantic bistro lights strewn over everything. It was located just outside of Soltero Beach, nestled atop the hills with a spectacular view.

Perfect. The whole place and vibe was perfect…

But now, it isn’t even my venue. Or my wedding date.

Hell, the dream turned into something of a year-long nightmare.

Because within three months, my would-be groom Nicholas decided my younger cousin Nina was a far better fit for his life partner than me.

Oh, there wasn’t any dramatic falling out. I didn’t walk in to find them in a compromising position or anything. I just got sat down in our shared kitchen, bewildered and half-buried in wedding magazines, and told that he’d had a change of heart.

I cringe at the memory and take a sip of my wine.

“There you are.” My cousin Cora grabs my elbow and swings me around, pushing me away from the darkened corner where I’d been lurking and leading me along the perimeter toward the villa. “You better hide.”

“What? Why?” I scan the crowd, trying to identify what’s got my cousin into her protective mode. Of all my family, only Cora and Charisse have tried to shield me from the unsolicited (and sometimes insensitive) commentary our big, loud, nosy Filipino family likes to offer up without being asked. “Is it Tita Baby? Didn’t Nina tell the bartender she’s only allowed two drinks before she gets cut off? You know she’ll be trying to swipe any extra drink tickets she sees…”

“No, Tita Baby is under control… mostly.” Cora shoots a look over her shoulder and opens the door to the villa and shoves me in. “Nicholas’s mom is on a mission to find you.”

Just as she says it, I see her.

In her sage green floral dress and a fancy English-style wedding hat, Mrs. Miller scans the room for me. Every time she’s seen me since our split, she’s worked double-time trying to set me up with someone new. As if she feels guilty for her son dumping me and then asking me if I’d mind not canceling the wedding reservations “just in case”.

I see she’s found another poor soul to match me with. From the looks of him, I’d guess he’s mid-thirties like me and something boring and respectable. Like an accountant.

No hate on accountants. Numbers just aren’t my thing.

Her eyes alight as she spots me, and I whirl away in a rush, pretending not to see. I scramble further into the villa, whiz around the corner and smash into a solid wall of muscle.

In slow motion, I watch in horror as the deep red, red wine sloshes over the edge of the glass and splashes all over the white T-shirt stretched over a firm, male torso. The red stain causes the fabric to mold and cling to the slim but well-defined body before me.

“Oh, shit. Shit! Sorry.” I dab at the stain with the hem of my dress. It’s a stupid idea, and it’s not helping matters. All I’m succeeding at is pressing the cotton against his stomach, noting with interest how firm he feels, how low his jeans sit, and how my drink has spilled all over him.

I keep dabbing, moving lower without thinking, muttering apologies as I glance up and the shock of deep blue irises rimming large pupils framed by long, dark lashes sends a tremor of awareness through my entire body. My hand stills, pressing against the wet, damp fabric.

“Oh my god. Your eyes… they’re gorgeous.”

So’s the rest of him, actually. Not that I’ve made the best impression here.

Good going, Felicity. Why not blurt out every thought in your head while you’re at it?

“Um.” He clears his throat, eyebrows lifting. “Thanks?”

His deep raspy voice comes as a surprise and I’m so enamored by it, by the way it rumbles in his chest and slides over my skin, sending heat straight to my core.

Interesting .

My cooch has been as dry as the Californian desert spread out across the rolling hills of the valley before me.

But at this moment, that seems to be changing. Rapidly.

A hot flush crawls up my neck, and my gaze zeroes in on his shapely mouth and sharp cheekbones. Time seems to slow right down as I mindlessly rub my dress against him. It’s been so long since I’ve reacted to anyone like this and the effect he has on my body is intense.

He waves a hand. “You’re, um. That’s my… uhh.”

“Hmm?”

He glances down and my gaze drops to where I’m petting the thick bulge pressing against his zipper.

“Oh, Jesus! Ohmygod. I’m… I’m so sorry. I was just—” I step away from the man and his sizeable bulge, feeling my face go as red as my wine. Kill me now. “I’m not a pervert, I swear.”

That sexy mouth of his quirks up as he chuckles. “Wouldn’t judge you if you were. But maybe we ought to start with names? I’m Jonas.”

“Felicity,” I answer automatically, turning away to peek down the hall. Any moment now, Mrs. Miller would come barreling my way.

“Everything okay? You in the middle of a getaway or something?” He cranes his neck to see. “Need some help? I can play hero if you need me to.”

Play hero? This man can be my hero, any time, any day. Even though he’s clearly younger than me. Maybe in his twenties, but good god, the sex appeal rolls off him in waves.

“I’m…” My brain shorts out, words failing me as I look into his beautiful face with his sharply cut cheekbones, full lips, and long dark blonde hair falling into those blue, blue eyes.

I’m screwed.

His voice is a husky rasp and it tingles through me, right down to my toes. My brain registers that I’ve heard it before.

In fact, I’ve heard it all night long. He’d been on stage crooning to the crowd from a list of old school rock-n-roll songs that made up Nicholas and Nina’s approved music list. He’d been good up there. Captivating, but I’d been too busy with wedding details and family avoidance efforts to take the time to jump and dance.

Besides, I didn’t feel like dancing at my cousin’s wedding to my ex. I’d mostly been looking for escape.

Movement beyond his shoulder catches my eye. A flash of sage green florals. Nicholas’s mom is closing in.

Crap.

I grab hold of his hand, lacing my fingers through his as I pull him down the hallway. “The titas have been after me all night. They’ve introduced me to no less than six eligible bachelors, and now my ex’s mother is coming to introduce me to a seventh. Are you single?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “I—yes?”

“Is that a question? Is it complicated?”

He chuckles warmly and the sound rolls through me, making my core clench. “I’m sure I’m single. I’ve just never had someone assault me to hit on me before.”

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I murmur, spinning around another corner. I press myself against the wall and yank him closer to me.

Now I see touching him is a mistake. He’s towering above me with one arm braced against the wall by my head, and my entire body flushes hot as I register the strength of his forearms, the crisp feel of his arm hair under my fingertips. Awareness radiates through me as his gaze travels over my body and back up to my face.

I’m caged in, trapped between his warm, hard body and the wall. And I don’t want to move.

As our gazes lock, the energy around us shifts.

“You always this take charge?” he asks, eyes drifting back to my mouth.

“Only in certain situations.”

Jonas smirks as he rasps, “I like it.”

My belly flips over as I hear Mrs. Miller’s heels clicking loudly against the tile. She sounds closer. “Maybe she went this way.”

I lick my bottom lip and slide my hand against his skin, feeling his strength and spying the rising phoenix tattoo on his forearm.

“I need you to kiss me.”

“What?” His eyes flare wide. “Now?”

“Yes, now. Please.”

His mouth quirks up in a sexy little smile and he braces a hand against the wall, caging me in. My breath catches in my throat as I catch a whiff of his woodsy scent. He hesitates just beyond my reach, mouth opening to ask me something, but I can hear the clicking of Mrs. Miller’s heels against the cool tile. Without thinking, I grab a fistful of his T-shirt and bring his mouth down to mine.

The kiss is a shock. An electric current that rocks me to my core and sends tendrils of excitement curling low in my belly. His mouth is firm, hot, and when I feel his arm circle my waist, hauling me closer, I forget that this isn’t real.

This is a moment of desperation.

But that desperation twists into something like desire as his grip on me tightens and the slant of his mouth changes. His tongue touches my lips and I part for him. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with the flavor of cinnamon and spice, the heat of his skilled tongue thrusting against mine. His body presses against mine, and every place we touch responds instantly.

My nipples tighten. The space between my legs grows slick. And there’s a thick length of muscle rapidly hardening against my belly.

Oh my god. When was I last kissed like this? When did my body last feel hot and slick and alive?

A moan rips from my throat and I sag into him, feeling the cool wet wine-soaked clothing warm between us.

“Oh! Oh, sorry. Excuse me. I see you’re busy.”

I pull away from the kiss, slightly dazed and unfocused as Nicholas’s mom spins her new offering around and shoves back in the direction of the party. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Nice to see you again, dear. Glad to see you’ve, ah, found someone.”

I grin and wave, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I press my lips together to keep a laugh in.

My kissing partner chuckles and the rumble in his chest causes our chests to bump. The friction causes my nipples to ache to be touched, pinched, teased. My giggle dies out on my lips and my gaze wanders over his face.

“Sorry about that,” I say, voice low and husky with unconcealed want.

“Well-meaning relative?” he asks, still staring at my mouth.

I tilt my head to one side and consider the fact that Nicholas and his mom are now technically, legally, my relatives.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Neither one of us moves, rooted in place by the lightning strike of heat kindled between us. The spell we’ve woven will snap any second, but I don’t want it to end. When was the last time, exactly, I’d last felt desire awaken inside me and had it returned in equal measure?

Doesn’t matter. He’s young.

Too young, maybe?

Maybe not.

I ease out of his grasp, hating the distance the instant I create it. But he steps back and lets me go, even as his gaze lingers.

“Thank you for that,” I say, glancing over at the man with the eyes as cerulean blue as the Pacific. The knot in my belly only tightens when I catch his gaze dropping to my heaving chest. “It was a hell of a kiss.”

“I’ll say.”

For a moment, I look him over and take in the ripped, black skinny jeans, the wine-stained white T-shirt, the wide-brimmed fedora and his wrists wrapped in leather and silver studs. Several gleaming silver rings, including an eye-catching skull, adorn his fingers, and his short nails are painted black.

He’s nothing like any of the men I’ve attracted before. Not straight-laced. Not bookish. Not exuding respectability as much as raw sex appeal and an intensity that piques my curiosity and awakens a part of me that I’ve suppressed for years.

“You’re with the band?”

“You got me.” He cocks his head to the side and grins. It’s both boyish and utterly appealing. “You with the wedding?”

“Bridesmaid.” I gesture to the costume-style dress, then blurt out the rest. “Cousin of the bride. Ex-fiancé of the groom.”

“Oh. Damn.” His eyebrows shoot up as he nods thoughtfully. “Let me guess. Relationship status—it’s complicated?”

“Single.” I smile, waving at his shirt. “I’m sorry about the stain. I can try to find you something else. I’ve got a room here and I always bring spare.”

“It’s no trouble.” Then he whips the shirt off and I bite down hard on my lower lip. My gaze follows his hand as he balls up the cotton and swipes at his damp, muscled abdomen. For one insane second, I picture dropping to my knees and licking every last droplet of pinot off his flat belly and following that happy trail down…

To a seriously impressive ridge pressed against his zipper.

“Listen, I wouldn’t normally ask, but there’s something about you, Felicity. I feel like I need a little more of your story.” He gives me that smile again, the one that feels a little devil-may-care and a lot more dangerous to my sex-starved nether regions. “You sticking around for the second set or are you taking off?”

“What?” I shake my head and clear my throat, trying to clear it. Heat crawls up my neck as I realize he’s caught me staring.

Get a grip, Felicity. Behave yourself.

But I’ve behaved all damn day.

All my damn life, really.

Didn’t I deserve a night off? One night of unchained, unrestrained debauchery to feed the desires that I’ve kept locked away for so long?

He repeats his question with a warm, teasing smile. He drags his openly appreciative gaze over the swell of my breasts, down the curves of my body, and pauses to stare at my painted toes before meeting my eyes again.

I drain the remnants of the wine still in the glass and a heady warmth trails into my belly.

Should I stay or should I go?

Jonas lifts his hat with one bracelet studded hand and runs his other through his dark blonde hair. I could picture those big, rough hands on my body. Feel the press of that cool metal against my neck. Taste that spicy cinnamon flavored kiss on…

“What do you think I should do?”

Then those ocean eyes blink at me and his mouth curves up in a smile full of filthy promise. “Whatever the hell you want to, darling.”

With a slick heat gathering low in my belly, I have one thought.

Fuck it.

I want to stay.