6. Paige
PAIGE
The morning sun spills over the vineyard rows like liquid gold, warming my skin as Paxton leads me down a narrow path between the vines. His hand is warm around mine, calloused fingers lacing through my own with an ease that still surprises me.
I glance up at him, at the way the light catches the silver in his dark hair, the way his emerald eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.
"You've never shown me this part of the estate before," I say, my voice soft with wonder.
Paxton squeezes my hand. "I had it renovated. Plus, didn't think you'd care about old vines and dirt."
I elbow him lightly, but he just chuckles, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.
"This was my favorite spot when I was a kid. I just like the view."
His steps slow, and he turns to face me, his free hand brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. His touch lingers, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw before he leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I pull away. "Then I love it here."
The path opens into a small clearing, where a weathered wooden table is set with a basket, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. The vineyard stretches out around us, the leaves rustling softly in the breeze, the scent of earth and ripening grapes thick in the air.
Paxton gestures to the table. "Surprise."
I laugh, shaking my head. "Really? A picnic?"
He arches a brow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Don't act so surprised, Davis. I can be romantic when I want to be."
I sit on the bench, watching as he uncorks the wine with practiced ease, pouring two glasses. He hands me one, his fingers brushing mine, sending a spark of heat through me. I take a sip, the rich, fruity notes bursting on my tongue.
"This is from last year's harvest," he says, nodding toward the vines. "Best batch we've had in a decade."
I glance around, taking in the rows of gnarled vines, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves. "You grew all this?"
He nods, his gaze sweeping over the vineyard with something like pride. "One of the businesses."
I reach out, my fingers tracing the rough bark of the nearest vine. "It's beautiful."
Paxton watches me, his expression unreadable, but there's a warmth in his eyes that makes my heart ache. "You're beautiful."
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks heat. "I was talking about the view."
"I know." He leans forward, his hand cupping the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss. His mouth is warm, insistent, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my toes curl.
When he pulls back, his thumb brushes my bottom lip. "Now, you're my favorite view."
I swallow, my pulse quickening. "Yours."
He smirks, satisfied, and reaches for the basket, pulling out a spread of cheese, bread, and fruit.
We eat in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when two people know each other's rhythms. Every so often, his knee brushes against mine, or his fingers linger a little too long when he hands me a slice of apple.
"You ever think about leaving?" I ask suddenly, plucking a grape from the bunch and popping it into my mouth.
Paxton stills, his glass halfway to his lips. "Leaving?"
I shrug. "This place. The estate. All of it."
He sets the glass down, his gaze steady on mine. "Never."
"Why not?"
"Because it's home." His voice is rough, final. "And it just got better because you're here."
My breath catches, and I look away, my fingers twisting in the fabric of my dress. "Really now."
He reaches out, his hand covering mine, stilling my movements. "Look at me, Paige."
I do.
His eyes burn into mine, dark and intense. "I mean every fucking word."
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "What if I'm not enough?"
His grip tightens, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "You're more than enough. You're everything."
I want to believe him. I do. But the doubt lingers, a shadow at the edges of my thoughts. I look away, my gaze drifting over the vineyard, the rows of vines stretching endlessly.
Paxton exhales sharply, his hand leaving mine to tilt my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Stop overthinking it."
I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off with a kiss, deep and possessive, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he's claiming me all over again. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my lips.
"You're mine," he murmurs. "And I don't let go of what's mine."
I nod, my heart pounding. "Okay."
He smirks, satisfied, and leans back, reaching for the wine. "Good. Now eat. You're going to need your strength."
I raise a brow. "For what?"
His grin turns wicked. "You'll see."
The cobblestone streets of the town glisten under the late afternoon sun, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread and blooming jasmine.
Paxton's hand is warm around mine, his fingers laced through mine like he's afraid I'll slip away if he loosens his grip.
The weight of his presence is both comforting and suffocating, a reminder that I'm his in ways I'm still learning to navigate.
A cheerful jingle cuts through the hum of conversation, and my head snaps toward the sound. An ice cream truck, its pastel paint chipped but cheerful, idles at the curb. My stomach growls before I can stop it, and Paxton follows my gaze, his lips twitching.
"You want some?"
I nod, suddenly shy. "Yeah. Vanilla, please."
He squeezes my hand before letting go, his voice dropping to that low, commanding tone that makes my pulse spike. "Stay here. Don't move."
I watch as he strides toward the truck, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like a ship through water. People part for him without realizing they're doing it. My fingers twist in the hem of my sundress, the fabric suddenly too thin, too flimsy.
A shadow falls over me.
"Hey there, beautiful."
I turn. A guy—tall with a cocky grin and a backwards cap—leans against the lamppost beside me. His eyes rake over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
"I don't think we've met," he says, pushing off the post and stepping closer. "I'm Jake."
I take a step back, my spine hitting the cool metal of the lamppost. "I'm not interested."
His grin doesn't waver. "Come on, don't be like that. Let me get your number, at least."
My throat tightens. "I said no."
"Just one drink," he presses, his voice smooth, practiced. "What's the harm?"
Before I can answer, a hand clamps down on his shoulder, spinning him around. Paxton's face is a storm, his emerald eyes burning with something dark and possessive. The ice cream cone in his other hand drips onto the pavement, forgotten.
"She said no," Paxton growls, his voice low enough that only Jake and I can hear. "That means fuck off."
Jake's smile falters. "Hey, man, I didn't know she was?—"
Paxton's grip tightens, his knuckles whitening. "Next time, listen to what she's saying. Next time, you'll find out what happens when you don't."
Jake pales, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "Shit, man, I didn't?—"
"Apologize," Paxton snaps.
Jake's eyes flick to me, then back to Paxton. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect."
Paxton shoves him back, not hard enough to knock him down, but enough to make his point.
Jake stumbles, then scrambles away without another word. The crowd around us has gone quiet, watching the exchange with wide eyes.
Paxton turns to me, his expression softening as he looks at the ice cream. "It melted. I'll get you a new one."
"I want this." I take it, my fingers brushing his. The vanilla is sweet and sticky on my fingers, but my hands are still shaking.
Paxton's thumb brushes my jaw, tilting my face up to his. His voice is rough, his breath warm against my lips. "You okay?"
I nod, but my pulse is still racing. "Yeah. Just... didn't expect that."
His jaw tightens. "He won't bother you again."
Paxton's hand slides down to my waist, pulling me against him.
His mouth crashes onto mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sweeping past my lips like he's staking a claim.
The ice cream drips onto my fingers, but I don't care.
The world narrows to the heat of his body, the way his hands grip me like he's afraid I'll disappear.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. His voice is a dark promise. "I'll always be here to protect you."
I swallow, my throat dry. "I know."
His lips curl into a smirk. "Good. But tonight, I'm going to need to punish you."
A shiver runs down my spine. "Why?"
"Because you're too beautiful for your own good." His hand slides down to my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. "Sleep in my room tonight."