“I know what you mean,” she’d said, sucking on a honey stick. I kept a supply of them at my house now. We were lying at opposite ends of the hammock, our bodies tucked alongside each other’s. “Those forever things are scary to me too.”
I chuckled. “Forever things?”
“Yeah. Marriage, family. I mean, I like the idea of a family but I’m not sure I’d be a very good mother. Natalie’s positive she wants kids, and I think Jillian does too—but whenever I think about it, it seems like something so far off in the future. Forever things are what real grownups do.” She laughed softly. “I’m not one of those yet. Maybe after I get a car I’ll feel more grown up.”
We were quiet for a minute, and I put my hands behind my head, hoping to sound casual. “What about marriage? Do you ever think about that?” To my surprise, I’d been thinking about it a little bit lately, imagining what it would be like to be married to her, contrasting the peaceful life we’d have here with the frantic, noisy one I’d almost committed to in New York. How had I ever thought that would be right for me?
“All girls think about that at some point.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’m no exception. What about you?”
“Nah,” I lied. She hadn’t exactly jumped at the idea, so I figured I’d better not sound too enthusiastic. Maybe she was thinking of us as a just-for-now thing until the real thing came along? The notion crushed me, not that I blamed her. She could do so much better. “I’d be a terrible husband.”
She took the honey stick from her mouth and pointed it at me. “I was totally gonna tell you that. I mean, you can’t cook, your house is filthy, and your dick is just meh.”
I lunged for her and she screeched, jumping off the hammock and making me chase her onto the dock, where I threw her over my shoulder and carried her back into the cabin. She laughed and squealed, beating against my back in a futile effort to escape my arms. “I take it back, I take it back. I meant to say your dick is mehgnificent.”
“Too late, angel. You ran from me. You know what that means.” In the living room, I tossed her onto the couch, where she grinned up at me, breathless.
“But you don’t have rope.”
“No,” I said, unbuckling my belt and sliding it off. “But this will do.”
Her jaw dropped. “It will?”
“Uh huh. Stand up.”
Poor little angel. I think her legs might have actually trembled as she stood naked at the end of the couch while I bound her ankles and bent her forward over the arm.
Mine did. They trembled with lust as I slid my fingers inside her pussy and then inside her mouth, listening to her suck them. They trembled with awe when I fisted one hand in her hair and teased her tight little ass with the tip of my cock, astonished at the way she let me desecrate her. They trembled with euphoria when I fucked her up against the wall, one hand rubbing her clit as she came and cried out my name over and over again.
My god, I love her, I thought as I flooded her body, my vision clouding at the edges. I’m so in love with her I can’t see. She’s fucking perfect.
Actually my entire life was pretty fucking close to perfect. I’d never been happier.
And I’d never been less sure that I could hold onto it.
“Come on,” I said, pouting. “Look at the sheet. Did I get it right?”
It was late August, and we were sitting on a blanket on the dock with a bottle of Abelard Pinot Gris, and Sebastian was supposed to be quizzing me on the tasting specs. Recently, Mia and Lucas had asked if I’d be interested in repping their wines in the Midwest, meeting up with distributors, shop merchants, and sommeliers since Mia would be too busy with three kids to travel. I loved the idea, but knew I had a lot to learn about the wines at Abelard and the industry in general before I took on that role.
“Yes, you got it right.” Sebastian set his glass and the binder aside. “But school is over for the day.”
“I have to learn this by the weekend,” I whined. “You said you’d help.”
“I know.” He took my glass out of my hand and set it next to the candle lanterns we had burning. “And I am. I’m going to help you relax.”
“Oh?” I leaned back on my hands, legs stretched out toward him. The mischievous glint in his eyes made my insides flip.
The summer was flying by in a happy whirlwind of work, wine, and great sex…definitely the best summer of my life so far. I loved the job at Abelard, I loved working for the Fourniers, and I grew more confident each day that I was doing a good job. Mia was an exacting boss, but fair and helpful and so organized I was in total awe. If I made a mistake or a miscommunication, she was understanding, and she was quick to praise when I did things right or took the initiative on something. She definitely had her own ideas about the way things should be done, but after we got to know each other a little better, she wanted to hear my ideas too, and encouraged me to be brave about voicing my opinions.
I functioned as both her personal assistant and assistant tasting room manager, and many of the ideas I’d had for Rivard were welcomed at Abelard. Lucas had loved the idea about creating a YouTube channel for informal videos about their wines, and he’d thought I’d be a natural in front of the camera. Together with his chief winemaker, a French import named Gabriel Allard, Lucas and I outlined the video series to coordinate with events Mia had planned throughout the summer. I stayed late many evenings learning about the wines, and I took home a ton of additional reading about the grapes and the soil and the winemaking process. Many nights I fell asleep with books resting on my chest or my laptop still open beside me.
Often I was in Sebastian’s bed.
We saw each other three or four nights a week, and on my days off, which were always during the week, Sebastian would try to come home early and we’d go hiking in the park or swimming off his dock or take the boat out on the water. When I’d worry aloud that I was encroaching on the solitude he’d claimed to crave when we first met, he’d hush me with a kiss or put his hand over my mouth, and once he just picked me up off the boat bottom and tossed me into the water.
He’d slowly opened up to me about his past, both his difficult childhood and the last ten years. I tried hard not to pry, but ate up every word he said, every memory he shared. Gradually his moods made more sense to me, and I’d learned when I could ask another question about something, when I could make a joke, and when I should just shut up and kiss him or hug him or better yet, do nothing but listen in silence. I became accustomed to his quiet moods, the occasional flare of his temper, and his infernal reticence about his feelings, and in turn, he endured my occasional insecurities about work, my eight million beauty products in his bathroom, and my ceaseless chatter about varietals, vintages, acidity, fruit, minerality and terroir—although he did tell me if I mentioned “floral notes” to him once more, he was going to ban me from drinking wine in his presence.
“Yes. Relaxing is very important for wine tasting.” He circled my ankles with his fingers and spread them apart before lying on his stomach between my legs. Then he moved up so his head was beneath my skirt. “Lift up your hips.”
Grinning, I did as he asked and let him slide my panties off, then I gasped when he pushed my thighs further apart and swept his tongue up my slit.