Page 7 of A Sip of Sherry

I grabbed his finger and turned to him, anger simmering beneath the surface.“Can you shut up?”I shoved his hand back at him, not numb to the fact that tingles still erupted where his skin had touched mine.

“Does it matter if anyone hears?You’ll just continue to deny it.Act like it wasn’t the best sex of your life.”

I told him Halloween was a one-night thing.Yet, it did nothing to temper my desires.If anything, they had grown into an inferno, something I’d been able to push deep down, except at night when I closed my eyes, and my carefully constructed walls crumbled.

“You haven’t as much as uttered a word to me since that night.Why now?”He had tried to talk to me a few times since, but it was never so direct.

“This dress, for starters.”His eyes roamed down the black silk that clung to my curves, leaving little to no need for imagination.“But mostly, your sheer talent of putting this event together.Your confidence as you float through the crowd, because you know you nailed it.Confidence is sexy.”

I rolled my eyes even as my pulse betrayed me.“So, what?You’ve been able to avoid me for months, and suddenly my confidence turns you on?”

“Don’t act like you’re not the reason for the avoidance.You made it very clear it was a one-night stand.I was honoring your request.”

I swallowed, heat creeping up my neck as he closed the minute gap between us.“Then why stop now?”

“Because it’s been fucking torture, and I thought maybe tonight, you’d admit, it’s been torture for you, too.”

Seeing him every day hauling boxes, muscles bulging, hair a tousled mess of pure sexiness had been torture, but my job, my family, the vineyard and its legacy were more important to me than a man I barely knew.

Except Ididknow him.He always arrived ten minutes before he had to start.He was kind and helpful to the men in the warehouse who worked under him.He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and take on the most basic tasks.Nothing was beneath him, and it was an honorable quality the rest of the workers appreciated.He was always willing to offer a hand in areas that didn’t fall under his position.He appreciated the process of wine making and spoke with Franc and Rhone frequently about the new batches.

I snapped out of my stupor and shook my head.“Sorry to ruin whatever New Year’s Eve miracle you were hoping for, but I scratched my itch, and I’ve been fine ever since.”The words were like acid on my tongue as the lie came too easily.

“Really?”

My breath hitched as his finger found my knuckles, tracing a searing line toward my wrist.

“I can see the desire in your eyes.Hear the stutter of your breath.That itch has not been thoroughly scratched.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re not as unforgettable as you think.”I kept my composure, holding my head high, shoulder straight, even if the confidence I was exuding was nothing more than a sad attempt at covering up the truth.

“Lies,” he said, his hand engulfing my wrist, his thumb rubbing along my pulse point, causing it to quicken.“You want me.Your mouth might not admit it, but your body doesn’t lie.”

I snatched my hand back, ignoring the burn of his touch.“You might find confidence sexy, and it is, but arrogance?Not so much.”

“Funny.You didn’t seem to mind my arrogance when you were moaning my name.”

Hot lava shot through my spine, but I folded my arms and pinned him with a glare.“Must not have been all that memorable, since I don’t recall.”

“There you go again, pretending like it didn’t happen when I know damn well you can’t forget.I bet you close your eyes and see me at night.Relive every stroke of my finger, every swipe of my tongue.Tell me.Do you touch yourself?”

Heat rushed to my core, moisture building between my legs as I shifted.If he only knew the extent of it.The only problem?It was never enough.The only touch I wanted was his, but he was an employee of the vineyard now, and I didn’t date anyone who I worked with.

Rhone once dated a girl who worked in the tasting room.She cheated on him, but tried to act as if he cheated on her.It got messy.Until Chardonnay stepped in, threatening to drag her ass outside or call the cops.The girl wisely chose neither and escorted herself out the door, never to return.

It caused a ripple of gossip through the tasting room and eventually made it into the streets.People talked about it for weeks, acting as if it was a hot new TV show.Odette even made a Team Rhone rhinestone t-shirt with matching capris.The drama became the focus and not the world-class wine and years of hard work my family poured into the vineyard.

I didn’t want to become gossip.I wanted them to see me as Sherry Grasso, the event coordinator and third generation vineyard legacy and not the girl who slept with the new guy.

But the longer I stood there, looking into his green eyes, my resolve was teetering.Did I think about him and touch myself?Heat flooded my body as his question and the heady desire of his tone replayed in my head.

“Even if I did,” I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice, “it would be none of your business.”

Ben’s smirk deepened.He leaned in, his breath teasing my ear.“I know you do.”His voice dropped, lower, rougher.“I still hear the way you begged me that night.When you think no one is watching, your body reacts to me.Like right now.You’re pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the ache.”

“What’s your point?”

“Midnight.You.Me.No more pretending.”

---