Chapter 17
Theo
After dinner at the winery’s cafe, the cabin is quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the soft clink of wine glasses.
We’re settled on the couch, the windows stretching wide beside us, looking out over the snow-covered vineyard glowing silver under a sky thick with stars.
The air inside is warm, and Emma is curled against my side with her legs draped across my lap, a wool blanket pooled at her feet.
“That was incredible,” she says, stretching her arms above her head in a way that pulls the fabric of her dress tight across her chest. “I think that duck might have been the best I’ve ever had. The orange glaze? I’m still thinking about it.”
I smile, running my hand absently along her calf. “Henry’s chef has been with him for twenty years. The man knows what he’s doing.”
“Clearly.” She takes another sip of the red wine and her eyes drift to the window, softening. “Look at that sky. You can see every star.”
She’s right. Without the light pollution of the city, the sky is endless.
Thousands of stars scattered across the darkness, the Milky Way a pale river cutting through the black.
The snow outside catches the faint light and glows, the vineyard rows stretching out like silver ribbons disappearing into the hills.
“It was one of the things I missed most after I left here,” I say. “The sky. You can’t see stars like this anywhere else I’ve lived.”
“I could get used to this.” She grins at me over the rim of her glass, that familiar mischief sparking in her eyes. “You know, except for your ancient pop culture references at dinner. I still can’t believe you’ve never seen Schitt’s Creek.”
“What can I say.” I laugh, taking a sip of my wine. “I’m out of touch. Running a restaurant and raising a kid doesn’t leave much time for television.”
She leans back against the arm of the couch, firelight dancing across her face, turning her hair molten.
The snow is still falling outside, soft and silent, blanketing the vineyard in white, and she’s watching it with quiet contentment.
Her feet are warm in my lap, her wine glass cradled loosely in her hand, and she looks so beautiful.
I’ve been carrying three words around for weeks now, wondering if it’s too soon.
Wondering if I’ll scare her off. I haven’t said them to anyone since Victoria, and I never felt them like this with her, either.
Nothing close to how I feel with Emma. This is different.
And I’m done waiting for the perfect moment because every moment with her feels perfect.
“Emma.” She turns, her smile fading into something more serious when she sees my face. I set my wine glass on the side table and shift to face her fully, my hand wrapping around her ankle. “I love you.”
Her lips part, but I keep going before I lose my nerve.
“I’ve been wanting to say that for a while now, and you don’t need to say it back. But I wanted you to know.” I squeeze her ankle gently, holding her gaze. “I’m serious about you. About us. I love everything about you, Emma. The way you laugh, the way you challenge me. All of it.”
For a moment she just stares at me, and I watch her throat work as she swallows. Then her eyes fill, and she sets her wine glass down with a shaky hand.
“I love you, Theo.” Her voice is soft. “So much. I’ve wanted to say it, too.”
The relief that washes through me is overwhelming. I reach for her hand and she gives it to me, her fingers threading through mine. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She laughs, this soft, breathless sound that I want to hear every day for the rest of my life.
I bring her hand to my lips and press a kiss to her knuckles, holding her gaze. “Good. Because I’m going to love you until the stars fall.”
She blinks rapidly as a tear spills over, tracking down her cheek. “Ugh, I swore I wasn’t going to cry on this trip.”
“How’s that going for you?” I tug her closer, and she comes willingly, unfolding her legs so she can slide across the couch toward me.
“Terribly.” She’s laughing and crying at the same time now, and I reach up to brush my thumb across her cheek, catching the wetness there. “This is all your fault.”
“I’ll take the blame.” I lean in and kiss her, soft and slow, tasting wine and salt and her. She melts into me, her hand coming up to curl around the back of my neck, her fingers sliding into my hair. When I pull back, her eyes are still wet but she’s smiling.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you that I loved you,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to hers.
She pulls back. “You have me completely, Theo. All of me.”
Before I can respond, she climbs onto my lap, straddling me, her knees pressing into the couch on either side of my hips.
“Emma—“
“Shh.” She settles her weight against me, her hands sliding up my chest to rest on my shoulders.
Her hips shift, pressing down against my cock, and I’m already half hard just from the proximity of her, the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her dress.
“I love you, and I want to show you just how much.”
I kiss her, my hands roaming up her spine and back down to grip her ass through the thin fabric of her dress. She gasps against my mouth and rocks her hips, grinding down against my cock, and the friction makes us both moan.
Tonight is different. Like the snow falling outside has sealed us away from the rest of the world, like nothing exists beyond this cabin and this couch and the two of us tangled together in the firelight.
Her fingers find the buttons of my shirt and start working them open, one by one, her knuckles brushing against my bare chest as she goes. I slide my hands up her thighs, pushing her dress higher, and she breaks the kiss long enough to reach back and unzip it.
She pulls it over her head and tosses it aside, and my breath falters.
She’s wearing red lingerie. Deep crimson lace that matches the fire of her hair, the bra sheer enough that I can see her nipples pressing against the fabric, the panties nothing more than a scrap of lace sitting low on her hips.
The firelight plays across her skin, painting her in shades of gold and amber, and she looks like something out of a dream sitting in my lap, snow falling outside the windows, flames dancing in the hearth behind her.
“You like it?” she asks, a hint of uncertainty beneath the teasing. “I bought it for you.”
“Emma.” I run my hands up her sides, watching goosebumps rise in my wake. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath catches at that, her eyes darkening. “Theo, I’m all yours.”
I pull her down for a kiss, groaning into her mouth and grip her ass, pulling her harder against me, and she gasps.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips, because I can say it now. Because I want to say it a hundred more times tonight.
“I love you too,” she whispers back. “Theo, I need you inside me. Please.”
“Then let me take care of you.” I lift her easily, turning us so she’s lying back on the couch and I’m hovering over her. She looks up at me, her red hair spread across the cushions like flames, her chest heaving in that crimson lace.
I lean down and kiss her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above the lace. She arches into my touch, her fingers threading through my hair, soft moans falling from her lips as I worship every inch of skin I can reach.
I reach behind her and unclasp her bra, sliding the straps down her arms and tossing it aside. Her breasts are perfect, pale and full, her nipples already hard and flushed pink. I take one into my mouth and she gasps, her back arching off the couch, her fingers tightening in my hair.
“Theo,” she breathes. “Yes.”
I take my time with her. Kissing and licking and sucking, moving from one breast to the other, savoring every sound she makes. She’s writhing beneath me now, her hips rocking up against nothing, seeking friction she can’t find.
I kiss my way down her stomach, hooking my fingers in the waistband of those red lace panties. I pull them down and toss them aside and spread her thighs, settling between them, and just look at her for a moment.
She’s already soaked. Glistening in the firelight, swollen and pink and desperate. I lean down and press a soft kiss to her inner thigh, and she whimpers.
“Theo, please. Stop teasing.”
I smile against her skin and lick a slow path up her thigh, stopping just before I reach where she wants me. She makes a sound of pure frustration and her hips buck toward my face.
“So impatient,” I murmur, my breath warm against her pussy.
“You’re being mean,” she pants, and there’s that bratty edge creeping back into her voice. That spark of defiance I love so much. “I thought you were going to take care of me.”
“I am taking care of you.” I press another kiss to her thigh, deliberately avoiding where she’s desperate for me. “In my own time.”
“Your time is too slow.” She reaches down and tries to push my head where she wants it, and I catch her wrist, pinning it to her hip.
“Did I say you could do that?”
Her breath catches, her eyes darkening. There it is. That shift between us. The moment when the tenderness gives way to something hungrier. Something rougher.
“No,” she whispers.
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
Heat floods through me at those words. I release her wrist and sit back on my heels, looking down at her spread out beneath me. Flushed and panting, her red hair tangled across the cushions, her pussy wet and wanting.
“Turn around,” I tell her, my voice rough. “Bend over. Hands on the couch.”
She smiles, slow and wicked, and turns. She bends forward, bracing her hands on the couch, arching her back as she rises onto her toes.
Her ass presses toward me, round and perfect, and I can see a faint bite mark on one cheek from the other night.
She looks over her shoulder at me with a grin that’s pure provocation.
“Like this?” She wiggles her hips, swaying them side to side, putting on a show.