Page 147 of Meet Me in the Valley
And no more running … unless it’s to each other.
Our jaws drop as I push open the door to our room at the inn. Audrey and Isabel really came through for me.Shit.I make a mental note to get them both flowers or something.
Audrey set us up in what she calls thehoneymoon suite—and yeah, it lives up to the name. I asked for romance, and boy, did those girls stay true to their promise.
The room is warm and inviting, bathed in soft earth tones. The walls are a muted sage, with sheer linen curtains that frame a set of French doors. Beyond them, moonlight spills over the King family vineyard.
The bed’s huge—a California king with a wrought-iron frame that looks like it belongs in some vintage catalog. Across from it, a stone fireplace flickers low, casting a soft light on the wood-beamed ceiling.
There’s a pair of chairs near the doors with a little round table set between them. Champagne chills in the mini fridge, as Audrey promised, next to a bowl of strawberries with a folded note.
May the night be sweeter than the view. —A & D
I hand the note to Tia, and she smiles as she reads it.
“You did all of this, Lo?”
“With some help from Audrey, Isabel, and Donovan, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, trying not to overthink the moment. “I even had the girls put together an overnight bag for you.”
Her eyes flick around the room again, softer this time. Like it’s all sinking in. The champagne. The fire. The view.Us.
The nerves in my stomach settle a little as I watch her take it all in, that quiet wonder lighting up her face. I think it’s safe to say I’m getting the hang of this wholecommitted boyfriendthing.
It’s easy to let go of everything I used to know about love and women when the only one who owns me is standing right here, looking at me likethat.
Tia sets the note gently on the table and picks up the two champagne flutes, holding them out with a small smile. I reach for the bottle and pop the cork with a satisfyingcrack. She beams with delight.
I pour slowly, careful not to spill, as Tia holds out her glass to me. She looks so damn good in my jacket, it should be illegal.
“Our time,” she says softly.
“Our time.”
We clink glasses and sip, not breaking eye contact. She’s still wrapped in my jacket, lips kiss-bruised, her lipstick slightly smudged.
That same mouth—red and slick, smiling around the rim of her glass—flashes in my head, wrapped around my length. The heat of her. The way she looks when she’s beneath me, above me, all around me.
My cock twitches, hardening in my pants as the image digs in deep.
She seductively licks a drop of champagne from the corner of her mouth, and the strain beneath my zipper becomes uncomfortable.
“I’m going to freshen up.” Tia sets her glass down, that familiar cunning smirk playing on her lips. The one she knows drives me absolutely crazy.
Tia grabs the overnight bag and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.
The second it shuts, I move. I hook my phone up to the speaker and let something low and slow fill the room to set to the mood.
It’s too cold to open the French doors, so I draw the curtains back instead. Moonlight pours in, spilling over the bed like it knows exactly what’s about to happen.
I drop the champagne into a bucket of ice, set the strawberries next to it, and take a long sip straight from the bottle. The water runs in the bathroom, steady and low, and I catch the quiet rustle of Tia moving around.
There’s a hum in my chest. Nerves, maybe. Anticipation, definitely.
I pull off my bow tie, kick off my shoes, and start on the buttons of my shirt. I’ve just made it to the second one when the bathroom door opens.
Tia steps into the doorway like she owns the moment, with my jacket still hanging off her shoulders.
“Get on the bed,” I demand.
