Chapter 23 #2
She tells me stories I’ve never heard. Trivial ones about the comical things she and her friends did after they shot their scenes, like sneaking into clubs she was too young for, and about dreams she never said aloud.
I find myself storing every detail like rare coins I’ll never spend.
The sun dips lower, shadows stretching long across the vines. She leans back in her chair, staring at me like she’s memorizing the man I only allow myself to be here.
And in the quiet between us, it hits me like a knife against bone. I could fall all the way into her, right here, right now. Meaning I’m so close to letting her into my world.
But if I do… If I let her see the truth in my eyes, hear it in my voice, I won’t just lose my control. I’ll lose the knowing she’s safe because nobody knows we’re together.
So instead, I lift my glass, meet her gaze, and smirk as though I have nothing to hide coursing beneath my ribs. “To October.”
She clinks her glass against mine. “To us.”
The words carve through me. To us.
Can we last, or have I let myself fall only to be destroyed in the end?
I drink, but the wine tastes like fear. I bury the thought because nothing will tarnish this weekend.
Dinner drifts into nightfall, the terrace emptying until the vineyard belongs only to us. Lanterns strung above flicker in the breeze, washing her skin in gold.
She’s lounging back, glass tilted against her lips, smiling as if she’s planning some kind of mischief. I can’t sit across from her anymore.
I rise and circle the table. She peeks up with that grin that guts me. I pull her to her feet, her body colliding with mine, and her giggle curling around us like a warm blanket.
“Jax.” Her hands slide up my chest. “You’re supposed to be the serious one.”
“Not tonight.” My voice is low and threaded with want. “Not with you.”
We leave the terrace for the path that winds between the vineyard buildings. The October air carries the scent of crushed grapes and damp earth, heady enough to blur the edges of control.
She stumbles a little on the uneven stone. I grip her hand, steadying her until she presses closer, until steadiness turns into temptation. She’s right here and tastes of my wine.
I kiss her. It’s not gentle or rough, just enough to silence the question in her eyes. She exhales into me, and the sound wrecks the part of me still clinging to distance.
My fingers are in her hair, tugging her head back, taking her deeper as the lantern light burns behind my eyes.
She breaks first, gasping. “I don’t want to think tonight.”
“Good.” My thumb drags over her mouth, savoring the swollen curve of her lips. “Because I’m not going to let you.”
We stumble back toward the villa tucked into the vineyard. The staff is gone. I made sure of it. No one interrupts me here.
The heavy oak door shuts behind us, echoing like a vow. Then it’s just us, shadows in the night, and passionate hunger.
She backs against the wall with her skirt flowing. Her breathing is ragged.
My hands slide up her thighs, dragging the material with them. Her nails bite my shoulders as if she needs proof I’m real, as if she’s terrified I’ll vanish if she stops holding on.
“Jax…” Her voice trembles.
“Shhh.” My mouth trails down her throat, teeth grazing her pulse point. “Let me have you the way I want.”
Her body arches, and the moan that leaves her lips is nothing short of ruin. I lift her easily. Her legs wrap around me as her back hits the plaster. I press deeper into her heat.
There’s no music now, only the rhythm of her pulse, the creak of the old villa wall, and the way she whispers my name like it’s both want and need.
She clings to me like she’ll drown if she lets go. My hands anchor her thighs, spreading her tighter around me.
The warmth of her pressing through fabric makes me wonder how long I can hold out before I lose all composure. But this isn’t good enough for her. Not here.
I peel her from me and set her back on her feet even as she wobbles. She glares like I’ve denied her oxygen, with lips swollen and hair a mess of October night and vineyard dust.
“Upstairs.” My voice scrapes lower than the night sky blanketing around us.
Her pupils blow wide and her breath is uneven, but she nods and obeys. It’s that, her trust and her submission that undoes me more than her touch ever could.
I take her hand, guide her through the villa, and up the curved staircase to the grand suite.
My estate has never looked like this, lamplights low, curtains wisping in the breeze, and a bed turned into something feral just by the way she steps into the room.
She walks backward until her legs hit the edge of the mattress. Her gaze never leaves mine.
“Jax…” Her voice, a plea wrapped in provocation.
“Strip for me.” I unbutton my shirt and get undressed, never breaking her stare.
She hesitates only a second, then does what I ask. She slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders, and it whispers over her skin until it pools at her feet.
She stands in lace with bare legs, hair wild, and her body shivering as if the night air itself is caressing her.
“Good girl.” I step closer. My knuckles graze her jaw. “Now lie back.”
She does. She sinks into the sheets, arms stretching above her head and surrendering in a way that feels less like weakness and more like defiance of every wall I’ve built.
I crawl over her, pinning her wrists to the mattress, letting my weight settle so she feels every inch of my restraint pressing down. My mouth finds hers, hungry and claiming. It’s a kiss that tastes of wine and fear, and every truth I shouldn’t speak.
Her back arches, and she rubs against me. I break away, my lips dragging down her throat, catching on her pulse point, biting just enough to make her gasp.
“Tonight you don’t think,” I whisper into her ear. “You feel. That’s all.”
Her breath shudders, and her body melts beneath me. “Yes, sir.”
Her submission alone could make me combust. I release one wrist, trail my hand down her chest, and over the lace.
My fingers trace the curve of her breast before I pinch her nipple through fabric until she cries out. My mouth follows, tugging the lace aside, sucking her until she writhes.
“Jax, please—”
“Patience.” I slide my hand lower, teasing the waistband of her panties before slipping beneath.
I find her slick and desperate. Her body is already begging, and I groan in appreciation.
Her head thrashes against the pillow, sacred cries spilling like confessions she’ll never say out loud. I push two fingers inside, curling just right, and her whole body bows. Her back arches, and her throat is bare to me.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my mouth at her ear, my rhythm steady and ruthless. “Take what I give you.”
She shatters once, then again when I don’t stop. When I keep her pinned, keep her gasping, keep her unable to control anything except the way she presses against me as though her life depends on it, I kiss her hard as a reward.
I strip the last barrier from her body and thrust inside. It’s not fast. It’s deep and possessive. Her nails score my back like dates carved into a prison wall.
Her moans muffle against my shoulder. I don’t stop until she’s quaking again, until the sheets twist around us like ropes, and until my name breaks from her lips.
I come undone buried inside her. The sound of her release is the only permission I need to lose the control I swore I’d keep.
And when the silence finally settles, her body boneless beneath mine, her breath tangled with mine, I know the wine here will never taste the same again.
It now holds the secret of the one night I stopped being untouchable and let myself be hers. I know the truth I’ve been swallowing all day has already written itself into my bones.
I’m hers.
And when this burns us both to ash, it won’t be because I didn’t see it coming. It’ll be because I chose the fire anyway.