Page 79 of The Fiance Dilemma

His words flickered across my temple. “You are.”

The handkerchief must have been secured around my eyes, because I felt his hands and arms falling. I brought mine up, feeling the impromptu blindfold with the pads of my fingers.

Excitement, plain and simple, broke through, bubbling in my belly. I failed to push it down, so the best I could do was say, “But we’re in the middle of a party.”

“And you’re my fiancée.”

A helpless breath escaped me, together with something that should have remained a thought. “You say that like nothing.”

“No,” he murmured, voice low. “I say this like it’s a reason to do with you whatever I want.”

A new wave of anticipation poured down my body in response.

Matthew hummed. “I love that smile on you. It’s a new one.”

I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling. “I don’t think I have more than one.”

“You do.” A caress brushed against my cheek. I shivered. “And I think I’m going to call this one yourplease, Matthewsmile.”

I huffed out a breath, giving my head a half-hearted shake.

“And that one right there is yourI’m going to pretend you’re ridiculous, but I actually think you’re ridiculously hotsmile.”

My lips pursed. “I thought we were tasting wines. Not smiles, Boston Boy.”

A deep chuckle coiled around me, making it twice as hard to keep my pout up. “My brain is very selective with the topics when I’m a little on edge. You were lucky my accent didn’t come out with all that Fenway trivia.”

I perked up with interest. “You have a Boston accent?”

“You’re doing yourplease, Matthewsmile again. Does that mean you want to hear it?”

The glug glug of a glass being filled crowded the silence. I wanted to. So badly. “No, I think I’m good.” I leaned my elbow on the bar, regaining a little space and resting my hand on its surface. I drummed my nails. “When’s my blind tasting starting?”

The tips of my fingers brushed the base of a glass. My lips parted with a question, but then Matthew was right there again. Reclaiming the room between us. His scent, woodsy, peppermint, clean, permeated my senses, the sudden closeness twice as intoxicating. “Josie,” he said, voice grave, that Boston cadence clinging to my name.“The Green Monstah’s big, but I’m biggah.”

It was ridiculous how absolutely arousing I’d found that. Ri-dic-u-lous how my toes were all but curling, my cheeks most certainly flushing red.

I… was into Bostonians, it seemed. Or I simply was into him. I cleared my throat. “Is that a pickup line? Has it ever worked?”

Matthew’s words fell right over the shell of my ear. “I might use it again”—the tip of his nose brushed my hair—“if you ask nicely. See how well it really does.”

A shiver cascaded down my arms, his words triggering memories. Husky whispers and that hint of command in his voice.You’re going to be a good girl and let me work for those moans.I was hardly able to shake that off now, so I released a breath, feeling it wobble as it came out.

“I’m… thirsty?”

The graze of Matthew’s stubble over my jaw told me he was on the move again. Fingers wrapped around my wrist, gently turning the hand that had been resting on the bar. The neck of a glass pushed softly against my palm. “We’re starting nice and easy,” he said.

I closed my hand around it and brought it to my lips, biting downthe disappointment that he wasn’t going to raise the glass there himself. I inhaled softly, the crisp and floral notes telling me it had to be a white. Closing my lips around the rim, I tipped the glass slowly, just enough for a small sip. I ignored the weight of Matthew’s attention on me. His gaze. Because it was silly that I could feel that with a blindfold on. I focused on the aftertaste, my tongue peeking out to clean off my lips. “Viognier,” I said. “Old Stud Winery. Has a red horse on the label. Owned by a married couple. She’s a biochemist, and I thought, who better than that to know what they’re doing around wine? I also think a lady in STEM just kicks ass. The peach note is very nice. No shame to her husband, but it was probably her idea.”

There was a pause that followed my words. A moment. Just a heartbeat. And then Matthew laughed, but it wasn’t his usual happy, smug, or amused laughter. It was an abated sound. Helpless. As if he’d just received a punch. Or bad news.

I frowned. Then the glass was out of my grasp in one gentle swipe of his hand. Then there was a weight on my waist. His hand. He pulled me forward. Right against him. Warmth erupted from the point where our chests now touched, spreading across my body. There was a quick, brisk rumble in his rib cage. I felt it on my breasts.

“You need to stop that,” he said, that huskiness surfacing once more.

My voice was nothing but a whisper. “Stop what?”

“Blowing me away like that,” he answered immediately. I felt his palm splay across the small of my back. My body swayed in response. “You set rules and then make it impossible for me to follow them. Why?”

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