Chapter 17
Sunny
The Bordeaux House lobby is quiet when I push through the front door, the soft lighting and murmur of a corner fountain are the only things greeting me. I'm halfway to the elevator when I hear the front desk clerk say, "And your name, sir?"
"Charlie Hayden, ma'am."
I freeze in an instant. That deep voice—low and sexy, the one I've been aching to hear—wraps around me.
I spin to find Charlie at the reception desk, his jaw shadowed with stubble. There's a worn edge to him that suggests a lack of sleep. A leather bag sits at his feet.
"Charlie," I cry. His name comes out louder than I intend, raw enough to make the desk clerk look up.
I cross the lobby at a pace that's just short of running and throw myself at him.
He catches me, one arm hooking around my waist and the other hand cradling the back of my head.
I press my face into his neck and breathe him in.
Warm skin and worn cotton, familiar enough to make my throat tighten.
My fingers twist into the back of his shirt and hold on.
"What are you doing here?" My voice is muffled against his collar. As I cling to him, the knot in my chest finally releases.
"I was a complete mess in Fort Worth." His mouth presses against my temple. "Mason finally got tired of me and told me to get on a plane. I was in the air before I could talk myself out of it." His arms tighten. "I needed to see you, Sunny."
I draw back and study his face. His hazel eyes are tired as if he hasn’t slept well, and the lines around his mouth are deeper than they were when I left. But the way he looks at me hasn't changed, as if I'm the only thing that matters.
"You don't need that room," I tell him.
His brows lift. "No?"
"You're staying with me." I take his hand and turn to the desk clerk, who has the good grace to look busy with her keyboard. "We're in room 314."
"Of course, ma'am." The clerk smiles and turns back to her screen.
Charlie grabs his bag and follows me to the elevator.
The doors close, and the second we're alone, his lips find mine—urgent and hungry, his hand fisting in my hair and his mouth hard against mine like two days apart was way too long.
I kiss him back, tasting coffee and determination, and when the elevator opens on the third floor, neither of us wants to let go.
The room is small and immaculate, with a window that overlooks a row of Sonoma vineyards going amber in the early evening light. Charlie drops his bag by the door and turns to face me, the intensity behind his expression telling me he didn't fly here to make small talk.
I sit on the bed and pull my legs up, tucking one foot beneath me. "I spent the day at Beaumont Crest. Evan and I talked for hours."
Charlie lowers himself into the chair next to the bed, his elbows on his knees. "Tell me everything."
So I do—Evan's apology, the tour, the conversation on the bench under the old oak. All of it.
Charlie listens without interrupting. His jaw tightens when I describe Derek's manipulation, and his hands flex against his knees, but he doesn't cut in.
"I turned it down, Charlie. Told him Willow Sage is my home and that wasn't changing. Evan respected it. He's walking away from the deal and finding another buyer."
"Good. Because what I found out confirms everything you just said." Charlie exhales through his nose. "Their visit at our tasting never sat right with me, so I hired a private investigator to dig into Derek and Evan before I left Fort Worth."
I blink at him. "You hired a private investigator?"
"I needed to know what we were dealing with.
" He meets my gaze, unapologetic. "Derek's trust fund has performance conditions.
He has to prove he can run a legitimate business or his parents will cut him off.
" Charlie shakes his head. "They issued him a formal warning four months ago, Sunny.
The man has a string of failures behind him.
Beaumont Crest was his last shot, and the only reason anyone took it seriously was because Evan's name was attached to it. "
The anger returns, hotter now, sharper with the confirmation that Derek's interest in Beaumont Crest had nothing to do with wine and everything to do with preserving access to his family’s money.
"Moreno is still digging into why Evan agreed to sell in the first place," Charlie continues. "The initial read suggests financial pressure, possibly medical expenses."
"You can call off the investigation." I shake my head. "Evan told me himself. He had hip surgery last year, Charlie. Forty-plus years of winemaking and his body is done. He’s tired and wants to relax and enjoy the rest of his life. Derek just happened to come along at the right moment, and unlike other suitors, was willing to agree to Evan’s conditions. "
My hands curl into fists against the bedspread. "I'm so glad you’re here," I say, and my voice breaks. "I don't want to talk about Derek anymore." I reach for him. "I'm done giving that man space in my head. I just want you."
Charlie crosses the distance between us in two strides. His hands find my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones, and his forehead drops against mine. "You've got me, Sunshine. You've had me since that flat tire."
I drag him down for a kiss and his mouth opens under mine.
I fall back on the bed, pulling him with me.
He catches his weight on one arm while the other wraps around my waist. The urgency between us is different from every other time.
There's no wall left to lower, no guard to dismantle.
I'm fully open and reaching for him, and the freedom of it feels reckless.
His mouth traces a path from my lips to the hollow below my ear, and my head falls back against the pillow.
His teeth graze the tendon in my neck, and I press against him, desperate to get closer.
He groans against my skin, and the vibration sends heat spiking through my belly and between my thighs.
I tug his shirt over his head, and my palms map the hard planes of his stomach, my fingers curling into the dusting of hair on his chest. He pulls my blouse free and unclasps my bra with one hand, and when his mouth closes over my nipple, I arch off the mattress with a cry that fills the room.
His tongue circles, teases, draws a line of fire across my skin before moving to the other breast, and my fingers dig into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
His mouth moves lower. He kisses the dip of my waist, the jut of my hip bone, and his fingers hook into my jeans and peel them down my legs along with my panties in one smooth motion.
He presses his lips to the inside of my thigh, and my breathing turns jagged as anticipation coils at the base of my spine.
"Look at me," he orders, his voice rough.
I meet his eyes at the first stroke of his tongue, wrenching a cry from my throat that I couldn't contain if I tried.
He works me with the same deliberate focus he brings to everything, reading every tremor, every shift in my breathing, adjusting until my thighs are shaking and my hand is knotted in the sheets.
His fingers slide inside me, and the combination sends me over the edge so fast that the sound I make is half his name and half a sob.
He stays with me through every wave, his mouth relentless and one hand splayed across my hip, anchoring me to the bed.
He kisses his way back up my body, and I pull him to me and taste myself on his lips. Panting, I push him onto his back and unbuckle his belt, stripping his jeans and boxers down his legs as he toes off his boots.
His cock is hard and straining, and when I wrap my hand around it, the groan he releases vibrates through his entire frame.
I take him in, my tongue tracing the length of him before I settle into a rhythm that has his hand clenching the back of my head.
His fingers tangle in my hair, not guiding, just holding on, and the sounds he makes above me are raw and broken and the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
"Sunny." My name comes out strangled. "Stop. I need to be inside you."
I release him and he reaches for his jeans, but I catch his wrist and pull it back to my hip. "I'm on birth control," I murmur against his jaw, and I feel the shudder roll through him before I add, "I want to feel all of you."
His fingers dig into my hips as I straddle him and sink down in one slow, unbroken motion.
The feel of him with nothing between us rips a moan from my throat that I couldn't hold back if I tried.
His head falls against the pillow, his eyes half-closed, and for a moment neither of us moves, neither of us breathes, and the only thing that exists is the place where his body meets mine. "God, Sunny."
I begin to move, bracing my palms against his chest, and the angle is devastating.
Every roll of my hips sends a bolt of sensation through me that tightens the coil all over again.
His gaze is locked on my face, watching every reaction, and the nakedness of his expression undoes me more than any touch could.
He sits up without breaking our rhythm, wrapping one arm around my back and drawing me flush against him.
The shift drives him deeper, and my nails rake down his shoulders as a moan tears free.
His mouth drifts over my neck, my collarbone, the swell of my breast, and his free hand slides between us, his thumb finding the spot that makes me fracture.
"Come for me, Sunshine," he whispers against my throat.
I shatter in his arms, my body clenching around him in fierce, pulsing waves. He follows seconds later, burying his face against my neck with a ragged sound that I feel in my bones. We collapse on the bed together, his arms locked around me and my face pressed to his shoulder, our breathing ragged.
The room is quiet except for the pounding of our hearts. The only light is the golden glow from the window.
Charlie shifts under me, tilting my chin up. The look in his hazel eyes is stripped of every defense, every layer of humor and charm. What remains is something I've never seen on any man's face. Not directed at me.
"I love you, Sunny." The words come out low and certain. "I've loved you since the moment I met you. The thought of you leaving, of no longer being in my life, scares the hell out of me."
My vision blurs and I blink hard, the tears sliding down my cheeks. I spent years keeping everyone at arm's length, and somehow found the one man who would cross the country just to make sure I knew he loved me.
"I love you, too." The words feel like a door opening, like sunlight flooding a room I've kept shuttered. "I'm done being afraid of it."
His mouth finds mine, and the kiss that follows is slow and deep, tasting of salt from my tears and the beginning of something I'm finally brave enough to hold onto.
"We should probably eat at some point," Charlie murmurs several minutes later.
"Probably." I trace a circle on his collarbone. "Or we could stay right here."
"Sunshine, I just flew across the country and made love to you. Dinner seems like the logical next step."
I laugh. "Fine. But I get to pick the place."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." He presses his lips to my forehead.
Tomorrow we'll fly home to Texas where everything I've built is waiting. But tonight belongs to us.