Page 5 of Her Supermodel Stalker
“Although most of the boxes are made of fancy glass and have magnificent views of the city. Outside the boxes is even worse. You’re in a maze jammed with vehicles and pollution. It isn’t the same as being here on top of a hill, with the blue sky right above you and lakes surrounding you.”
“You should’ve been born on a vineyard,” I say, feeling lucky, although the supermodel clearly has everything he wants.
“I was born on a vineyard, too, believe it or not,” he says. “Although my mom wasn’t harvesting grapes when it happened.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“My mom’s family has a vineyard in Italy. I lived there until I was five.”
‘Oh!” I recall the fact from something I read. No wonder he feels at home.
“Why didn’t you purchase a vineyard in Italy, then?”
He shrugs but doesn’t speak.
Chapter 4
Devin
We’re on our way to the winery. It’s all I can do not to put my hand on Lexi’s waist as we walk. My eyes never leave her now. I blame myself for being inattentive earlier. When she was tripped over, my mind was down in the gutter, and I was imagining a hundred ways I could take her right there among the vines in the muddy field.
Damn. I thought my obsession for her would go away eventually, but it never did. In fact, I’ve never been obsessed with another female. Glamorous women are a part of my daily life, so why am I so taken by this ordinary farm girl?
I’ve seen plenty of gorgeous women in my ten years’ modeling career, and Lexi isn’t exceptional, but she is unique. I can’t even describe her beauty. It’s just fresh and uncontaminated, very much like the scenery and the air in the vineyard.
A couple of workers stand next to the conveyor belts, shorting, removing bugs and leaves. “The grapes will go through the sorting table first,” Lexi explains. “And then the destemmer will remove the stems and crush the grapes.”
We move into the cellar where tanks and barrels are stored. There are a couple of workers moving barrels out, but soon they’re out of our way, and we’re alone. “There are a few steps after the grapes are stored into tanks. First, fermentation, and then the wine sits in the barrels or tanks to age. But in the meantime, we check it every day,” she speaks in a professional manner. I’m impressed with her knowledge. Fernandes told me the girl knew the vineyard like the back of her hand and that he would’ve promoted her to a winemaker if she had a certificate.
She opens the lid of a tank and shows me what she normally does. “We check the chemical composition and stir the wines to mix the yeasts that have settled in the bottom. And then we filter the wines to make them taste better.” Her enthusiasm enchants me. From her posts, I know she’s proud of two things, her job and her baby Jimmy.
“You look so pleased with yourself,” I say while gazing at her, my voice a bit gruff.
She sucks in a breath as she meets my eyes as if noticing something unusual on my face. Her hazel eyes shimmer in the dim cellar, they fall on mine, and she bites her lip briefly. Damn. Is she imagining the same thing as I am? I’ve wanted to taste those lips since the moment I saw her, no, since I saw her photos two years ago.
She must sense my restless attention because she fidgets somewhat. She shoves her hands into her jean pocket, a gesture that she does once in a while. It makes her look like a little girl who pretends to be a grownup. Well, she is a little girl to me, despite her also being a mom. I’m ten years older than her, so I’ve earned the right to call her that.
“Err, do you have any questions?” Lexi finally speaks to break the silence.
I blink a few times and inhale deeply. “Yes,” I say and quickly come up with questions. “How does the fermentation really work? How does an innocent grape juice turn into an intoxicating wine? How do they become so different?”
“Oh.” She frowns a little as she considers my question. It looks like no tourist ever asks her anything technical like that. “This is really a question for a chemistry professor, but as far as I know, it’s all because of the yeast. It turns the sugar in the juice into alcohol.”
As she speaks, I can’t help stepping closer to her. I’m drawn to this girl that’s so passionate about winemaking. “I see,” I mutter when we’re about two inches from each other. Her chest heaves rapidly, tempting me with each rise and fall. My cock twitches in my pants and the movement draws her attention.
Her mouth falls, and her cheeks turn pink right away. She then backs a step, her foot hitting the barrel next to her, and she loses her balance. This time, I reach out a hand just in time, catching her in my arms.
“I’m sorry!” She gasps, steadying herself as she peeks up at me. “I don’t know what’s happening to me today. I keep…”
I hold her tight, not intending to let her go anytime soon.
Her soft curves are pressed against my chest, and my hands are on her waist. Her eyes are like bright emeralds sparkling with desire, and her lips are begging to be kissed. Christ. I don’t hesitate any longer. My lips swoop down to capture hers, smothering a cry that escapes from her throat. She trembles but doesn’t resist, succumbing to the hungry grazing of my lips, her hands clasping my waist, and her pelvis rubbing against my hard-on. I groan, my tongue running along the seam of her lips and entering her hot little mouth to deepen our kiss.
This is a dream come true. For two years, I’ve wondered how good she would taste. I had strawberry flavor in mind because she said in her post on FB it was her favorite fruit. I was right to guess it. She tastes sweet and succulent, and the warmth and slipperiness make me groan.
I push her against a tank and trail my lips down to her neck when I hear the sound of wheels near the entrance of the cellar. Lexi pushes me away immediately before a barrel trolley rolls into the aisle next to us.
We both take time to catch our breaths before I follow Lexi out to the other end of the cellar where the bottling line is. It isn’t operating at the moment, but she explains the process to me, from the automatic vacuuming to filling, and from sealing to labeling. She sounds a bit nervous, and I don’t blame her, given what I’ve done. I’m hardly any calmer than her. My heart is beating frantically in my ears, interfering with my hearing. I only get half of what Lexi says, but thankfully, I’ve been here once already, with Mr. Fernandes.
