Page 65 of The Vines Between Us
I leaned forward, pressing my chest against his back, my lips against his ear. "Come for me," I whispered, tightening my grip on his cock, twisting slightly on the upstroke the way I knew he loved.
"Alexandre," he cried out, his body clenching around me as he came, hot pulses coating the blanket beneath us. I held him through it, continuing to stroke him as his entire body shuddered with release.
The sight of his pleasure and the exquisite tightening of his body around my cock pushed me over the edge. I thrust deep one final time, emptying myself inside him with a hoarse shout of his name, marking him as mine in the most primal way.
I collapsed forward, careful not to crush him, pressing kisses to his shoulder and neck as we both trembled with aftershocks. Eventually, I eased out of him and we shifted to lie facing each other, limbs entangled, my hand lazily tracing patterns on his hip.
"One day," I murmured, looking around at the stone walls of Domaine Moreau, "we'll sleep in a proper bed here. Together."
Hugo smiled, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. "I'd sleep anywhere, as long as it's with you." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Though I must say, I quite enjoyed this new arrangement."
I laughed softly, feeling lighter than I had in years. "A perfect balance, then. Just like a good wine."
Outside, the vineyard continued its patient growth, vines reaching skyward. Inside, in this sacred space of memory and renewal, we had finally crossed the threshold from reunion to forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ALEXANDRE
Iwoke to the sound of Hugo's phone ringing persistently at 5:13 AM. The early August light had barely begun to filter through the bedroom curtains. Hugo fumbled for his mobile, his voice thick with sleep as he answered.
"Oui, Marcel... quoi?" His body tensed beside me. "We'll be there in twenty minutes."
"What's happened?" I asked, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
"Irrigation system at Domaine Lefèvre. Complete failure. Marcel says it looks... deliberate."
The word hung between us like a storm cloud. We dressed quickly, grabbing coffee in travel mugs before jumping into Hugo's weathered truck. As we drove through the misty morning, I couldn't shake the dread settling in my stomach. This wasn't the first "incident" in recent weeks, but it was escalating.
"Third alliance vineyard this month," I said, watching the familiar landscape blur past. Six weeks before harvest, with the August heat bearing down mercilessly, irrigation wasn't just important—it was essential.
"And always the same pattern. Critical equipment failing at the worst possible moment." Hugo's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Too perfect to be coincidence."
When we arrived at Marcel's property, a small crowd had already gathered. Marcel himself stood in the middle of his primary vineyard, staring at a tangle of slashed pipes and dismantled pumps. His wife Colette handed out coffee to the neighbouring vignerons who'd come to help.
"This is professional work," Jean-Marc said, crouching to examine a clean cut through the main line. "Someone knew exactly what they were doing."
I surveyed the damage, mentally calculating repair costs. "At least ten thousand euros, possibly more depending on how much of the electronic control system is damaged."
Marcel kicked at a piece of pipe, his face flushed with anger. "Ten thousand I don't have. Not with what I've already invested in the new cooperative press."
"The alliance will cover it," Hugo said firmly. "That's the whole point of our agreement."
"Will it?" Jean-Marc stood, brushing dirt from his hands. Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. "Our emergency fund is already stretched thin after what happened at Domaine Perrin last week."
"We'll find a way," I insisted, though the numbers running through my head weren't encouraging. The alliance's shared resources were indeed dwindling faster than anticipated.
We spent the morning patching what we could, creating a temporary system that would at least keep Marcel's most vulnerable vines alive. By noon, the August sun beat down mercilessly, and I could feel sweat soaking through my shirt.
"Let's break for lunch," Hugo suggested, his face streaked with dirt and concern. "Colette's prepared something for everyone."
Under the shade of Marcel's oak trees, the mood was somber as we ate bread, cheese, and cold cuts. Jean-Marc kept checking his phone, a behavior I'd noticed increasing over the past week.
"Something interesting?" I asked casually, passing him the water pitcher.
He startled slightly. "Non, nothing. Just... business matters."
Hugo caught my eye, a silent communication passing between us. We'd both noticed Jean-Marc's recent distraction.
