Chapter 8 #2
She was perfect. Each inch of her was a new revelation.
Each soft gasp echoed his desire. He reveled in the way she moved, the way she held her breath when he touched her in a place she liked, the soft moans she didn't bother to stifle.
Every reaction was an entry in her guidebook, directing his hands and mouth to the places that delighted her most.
Something shifted in his chest—more like cracked open. She was different. They were different—together.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, she stilled, her gaze holding his as if he were the roots and she was the ground holding him in place.
She was exquisite, a masterpiece of curves and hollows that called to him.
With a growl, he descended on her, his lips finding her bare breast, his tongue tracing the tightened nipple. She clung tighter to him, her fingers threading through his hair as he tasted her, savored her.
His clothing quickly became a barrier, an annoying impediment to the closeness they both craved. Her fingers tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, echoing his own urgency. He helped her, kicking them and his underwear aside before joining her back on the bed.
Her hands roamed across his chest, over his abdomen, tracing every muscle that flexed beneath her touch. Her touch brought him to life, each caress as potent as a lightning strike, leaving tingling pulsating arcs across his skin.
When she finally grasped him, his skin was so sensitive, so hungry for her touch, the sensation shocked him. He groaned against her neck, his body jerking in response.
"Emery," he rasped against the shell of her ear, his voice hoarse with desire. Her name tumbled like a secret confession from his lips, filled with a reverence he hadn't known he was capable of.
With his heart pounding against his ribcage like a wild beast cornered, he was on the brink, a hundred demands crowding at the tip of his tongue—be gentle, be wild, be everything that he'd been aching for.
But the words stuck in his throat as he lost himself in her touch, in the overpowering sensations that she drew from within him.
He shifted, bringing his weight onto one arm to free his other hand. His fingers found her thigh, coaxing her to wrap it around his waist as he pressed himself against her. His body was a live wire, buzzing with pent-up tension, poised at the apex of pleasure and patience.
Her fingernails scraped down his chest, leaving trails of fire on his skin, bringing him back to the moment. He reached for her other thigh, guiding it to join its mate around his hips. The position brought their bodies even closer, their centers aligning in a way that elicited a gasp.
With a deep intake of breath, Devon nuzzled the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. The sweet, intoxicating aroma was becoming as necessary as air.
Emery's grip on him tightened, her nails digging into his back in a delicious sting. The sensation was sharp, full of promise, leaving his senses humming with anticipation.
Threading her fingers in his hair, she tugged him down for another searing kiss.
He reveled in the warmth of her lips against his, the feel of her body undulating beneath him, the sound of her soft moans mingling with his own.
The kindling spark of desire flared into a full-blown firestorm, consuming him from the inside out.
He eased into her, holding his breath, trying to maintain control, but that seemed like it was no longer possible.
Her hands clung to his back, her nails digging into his flesh, anchoring them together.
The bite of pain mixed with pleasure, sharp and sweet, and the intensity of it—her grip, her body, the way she moved with him—burned through every nerve ending until nothing existed but this, nothing existed but her.
When she finally crumbled beneath him, her climax washing over them both in a wave of intense, breathtaking pleasure, he held her tight.
Her name spilled from his lips like a prayer even as her soft cries filled the room.
Her body went limp beneath his, her chest heaving, her muscles still shivering with aftershocks.
He stroked her hair, reveling in the silkiness beneath his fingers.
He kissed her forehead, the side of her neck, the corner of her mouth.
He tasted salt and sweat on her skin, breathing her in like she was oxygen he'd been starving for his entire life.
And just like that, he knew—he was wrecked.
Ruined. Every other woman, every carefully constructed wall, every promise he'd made himself about staying free—gone. She'd branded herself on him, body and soul, and there was no coming back from this. His skin tingled where it touched against hers. He’d never felt so alive, so complete, so utterly consumed by another person. The depth of his feelings was overwhelming, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Her eyes fluttered open after a moment, meeting his with a calmness he hadn’t expected.
Breathless, satisfied, a weak smile played across her lips.
She looked at him with a newfound intimacy, an understanding that bound them closer together.
Her hand found his, their fingers intertwining and squeezing gently.
“Wow,” she said softly, her gaze still locked with his.
He echoed the word, a soft rumble from deep within his chest. Words were inadequate, but “wow” encompassed it, somehow.
He rolled to his side, keeping her close, pulling the covers over the bodies.
Emery's head rested on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. The room was fully light now, Sunday morning sounds filtering in from outside—birds singing, the distant rumble of a tractor, the peaceful rhythm of a vineyard at rest.
“Are we crazy?” Emery asked quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, this? Us?”
Devon's hand stilled on her shoulder, and his heart plummeted to his toes. “Second thoughts already?”
She lifted her head to look at him. “Not about how I feel, but about what others will think. About how it looks. About what people will gossip about and put in online articles.” Her hand flattened against his chest. “And it’s not just about how it will affect my career, but this vineyard.”
“The rumor mill is already buzzing. Those pictures from three months ago are something we need to address.” He met her gaze steadily.
“We can’t lie about this. If we do that, it’ll come out, and that would be worse.
” He kissed her softly. “I don’t think it’s something we have to announce.
Just answer truthfully when it’s brought up.
But if I’m being completely honest here, we’ve got nothing to hide or be ashamed about. ”
“This is a complicated story, and I don’t like it being on display all because someone is targeting me for a reason I can’t even fathom.”
“We’re going to figure this out. The PI my dad hired is excellent. And maybe this all has to do with the insurance thing your dad was involved in.” Devon pulled her closer.
“I have thought about that.” She rested her chin on his chest. “My father’s told me for the last year that things will eventually become clear.
I just need to be patient and let the system work.
That I’ll understand soon enough. It’s hard because he’s constantly telling me that he can’t talk about it.
But I don’t know why someone would target me. ”
“That’s what Declan is for,” Devon said. “You're not alone in this. Whatever comes next, we face it together."
She was quiet for a long moment. "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of losing this. Of someone taking it away before we even have a chance to figure out what it could be."
"No one's taking anything.” The words came out rough, harder than he intended.
Jaw locked, he caught himself leaning toward her before forcing himself to ease back against the pillow.
Breathe. Don't crowd her. "We'll figure out who's behind the attacks, clear your name, build the authentication program, and prove everyone wrong. Together."
"You make it sound simple."
"It's not simple. It's probably going to be messy, complicated, and difficult. And my family is going to pick on us. Well me. And we do have to tell them that we are now a thing because of how this town likes to listen to the whispers in the vines.” Devon tilted her chin up, so she had to meet his eyes.
"But I'm not going anywhere. You've got me, for as long as you'll have me. "
Emery's eyes filled with tears, even as she smiled. “Have you ever had a girlfriend for longer than a few months?”
“If I say no, is that going to be a problem?”
“It’s one of the reasons I stayed clear for so long.”
“Can’t say I blame you for that.” He chuckled. “But I’ve never felt about someone like I do you.”
She kissed him, soft and sweet and full of promise.
When she pulled back, the fear in her expression had eased, replaced by something that looked a lot like hope.
"We should get up," she said reluctantly. "Your family has probably already noticed your truck parked in front of the guesthouse, and Bryson can’t cover for you all day at work.”
"Let them notice." Devon pulled her back down against him. "We've got time. It is Sunday, and while it’s still harvest, it was a traumatic night.”
She laughed, settling into his embrace. "Your mother is going to have a field day with this."
"Oh, absolutely. She's probably already planning the wedding."
“That’s not funny.”
"I'm kidding. " He grinned at her scandalized expression. "Mostly kidding. Though, knowing my mother, she's at least mentally redecorating the guesthouse for grandchildren and figuring out a way to talk you into talking me into moving into the main house.”
"We literally just admitted we have feelings for each other. Can we maybe get through breakfast before your mother starts planning my entire future?"
"That's optimistic. My money's on her cornering you before coffee."
Emery groaned, burying her face in his chest. "This family is going to eat me alive."
"This family already loves you." Devon stroked her hair. "They have for weeks. This just makes it official."
She lifted her head, her expression turning serious. "What if we don’t last? What if whoever's targeting me escalates? What if—"
"Hey." He cut her off with a gentle kiss. "We'll handle it. Together. One day at a time."
"One day at a time," she repeated, as if testing the words. Then she smiled. "I can do that."
Outside, the vineyard stretched under the morning sun, rows of vines heavy with the last of the harvest's fruit. Birds sang their morning songs. The world kept turning.
And inside the guesthouse bedroom, Devon held the woman he was falling in love with and let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could have this. Could build something real and lasting despite everything working against them.
He just hoped whoever was targeting her would give them the chance to find out.