Page 27 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

“It was,” Cullen says slowly. “It’s changed hands over the years, but the town is like one big family with everyone in everyone else’s business.”

“He’s from a big city so it’s been quite an adjustment for him,” I say with a cheeky grin.

Leaning close, Cullen whispers, “You made it worth it.”

My heart stutters in my chest at his words, desire coursing through my veins at the compliment. His eyes trail over me, and I can’t help adding an extra sway to my step as we continue on our way.

16

CULLEN

After the tour of the grounds, Paul excuses himself as we make our way back to the villa we’re spending the night in to freshen up before dinner. I chuckle as I unbutton the cuff of one sleeve and then the other before discarding it on the back of a chair and pulling a clean shirt from my bag.

Gwen’s love of exploration and learning rubbed off on me today as I immersed myself in the history of Waiheke and the winery. Work trips had consisted of travel to and from hotels, to and from conference rooms, and to restaurants and back again. There’d been no time to see the heart of a place and experience…anything.

Every day I choose not to dwell on all that I missed out on living and instead, live for the moment.

“What do you think about this one?” Gwen asks as she emerges from the bathroom wearing a tight black dress that showcases every single one of her curves. Her legs are smooth and tanned, and even though they’d been wrapped around me this morning, I am already hungry for her again.

“You look stunning.” My gaze slowly rakes up her body, and I don’t suppress my groan as I take in her freshly applied signature red lipstick.

She saunters over and rests her hands on my chest before looking down and finishing buttoning my shirt. “I never thought I’d be into this whole man in a suit thing but it’s really workin’ for me.”

“Good to know,” I say, letting my hands slide down her sides, over her hips, and around to cup her ass.

“We’re going to be late,” she teases, but her eyes are full of want as she presses herself against me.

“Where are your panties, Red?” The low growl of my voice vibrates in the space between us. My hands had traveled all over her luscious ass and I hadn’t found a seam.

Giving me a wicked smirk, she pulls back and grabs a shawl from the bag. “I took them off; the line was too obvious.”

“Can’t be having that,” I agree and let my eyes drag down her body again. “Let’s go before I confirm all that perfection is bare.”

She points a manicured finger at me as she backs toward the door. “Behave yourself, Mr. Andrews.”

“Oh Red,”—I chuckle—“there’s no chance of that.”

She yelps as I smack her ass and then follow her out and into the setting sun. The sky is alight with swirls of yellows and pinks over the water. It’s breathtaking but not nearly as gorgeous as the woman at my side.

Paul greets us at the Mediterranean restaurant attached to the winery and leads us to a private table off to the side. Thanking him, I hold out Gwen’s chair and wait for her to sit before taking my own.

Right next to her.

We order several plates to share—cheeses, olives, fish, fruit, bread, and a bottle of wine are enough to get us started.

I clink my glass against Gwen’s and take a sip, relaxing into my seat as my left hand lands on her bare thigh. She arches a brow, and I take another small sip without breaking eye contact.

Setting down my glass, I lean forward and pluck an olive from the charcuterie board they call a grazing platter. I make a note to ask my son-in-law what he thinks of the name considering how often he makes these things. I think Gwen took a picture of it to send to them, but I can’t be sure because her dress is damn near driving me mad.

Holding the olive out to her I say, “Open wide, Red.” Her lips part but that’s not the only thing I want. My other hand slides farther up Gwen’s leg and under the hem of her dress. My hand squeezes her thigh. “Red,” I command, and her blue eyes darken as she obeys.

I slip the olive into her mouth and let my fingers linger for a moment before pulling them out and selecting a piece of cheese for myself. She exhales through her nose as she chews slowly and then discards the pit on the side of her plate.

Selecting a strawberry, I hold it out for her, just far enough that she has to lean in slightly to take a bite. The movement gives me an exquisite view of her cleavage, and I take the opportunity to slide my hand all the way up her thigh. My pinky brushes against her slick, naked heat, and she gasps.

“You’re going to have to be quiet, Red.” My words are as calm as my ministrations.

“You’re not playin’ fair at all.” She pouts her red lips before dabbing them with her napkin.

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