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"Will you tell me about it?" she asked softly, leaning up and kissing my neck. We'd just made love for the second time and were lying against the pillows, Kira's head resting on my chest.
I paused, confused for a second about what she might be talking about. "You mean going to prison?"
She nodded, her lips still on my skin, the scent of her hair drifting up to me and making me feel peaceful and content.
I sighed. I wanted her to know everything about me. I wanted to share things with her I had never shared with anyone, but forcing the words out was difficult and not something I had any practice with.
I smoothed my hand down her silken hair, grasping a handful of it. "I had just gotten back from New York where I had gone to see my mother."
"You went to see your mother?" she asked, surprised.
I nodded. "The trip virtually ended before it had even begun. I've tried to put it out of my mind. But back then, I . . . well, I had graduated college, and I thought if she saw me, saw the man I'd become, that she'd, I don't know, fall to her knees and beg me for forgiveness. I envisioned just that very thing as stupid as that sounds." I made a small scoffing sound. "I flew to New York and looked her up, went to her door with no invitation." I was silent for a moment remembering the hope I'd carried so close to the surface as I'd stood in front of her apartment. "She was married, had a family—two young sons."
"She must have been glad you came to see her," she said softly.
I made a sound that would have been a laugh if there were any amusement in it. "No. She was so bitter—told me I ruined her life, told me she had been on the verge of a huge career when I put an end to that. She said she was glad she didn't have to look at me every day and be reminded of all she could have had. Then she asked me to leave. The worst part, though, was the way she looked at her two other boys while I was there. And I realized that it wasn't that she was incapable of love—it was just she was incapable of loving me." I delivered the words as casually as I could, but I felt the slight flush on my own cheekbones. The memory of that moment still burned like a red-hot brand.
"Gray," she said, a whole world of compassion in her eyes as she reached up and stroked my cheek. I leaned in to it.
"I flew into San Francisco and decided to go to a bar. I needed a drink, or ten."
"You were hurting," she said.
"I . . . yes. God, if I had just gotten on the road and come home," I admitted. My voice cracked on the final word, regret filling me. Kira wrapped her arms around my body and hugged me to her.
"I had been at the bar for about an hour when I ran into Brent Riley, a rich kid I'd known through acquaintances, and had gone to some parties with over the years. His family lives in a town about half an hour from here. He was in San Francisco for his bachelor party—there was a whole group of them there. I hung with them for a while. Brent and I had never gotten along, though. He was a real douche—the type of person who looks perfect and upstanding to the outside world, but behind the scenes is creepy and self-serving."
She nodded. "I'm somewhat acquainted with the type," she said wryly. I kissed her forehead gently, knowing she was thinking about Cooper, or perhaps her father, or perhaps both.
"Yeah, so, we were walking outside to the parking lot and he said he had roofied some girl, and that he and the other guys were going to take her back to their hotel and have some fun." Kira looked up at me and her eyes widened in what looked like surprised revulsion. "He asked if I wanted in on the action and pointed over to a car where a girl was slumped in the backseat. I kind of went a little crazy." I paused. "I was looking for a fight, Kira. I welcomed a reason to fight with him."
"It was a good reason, Gray," she whispered.
I let out a loud whoosh of air. "Maybe. I got right in his face, but he was the one who pushed me first. And it was all I needed. I didn't show him any mercy. He got a few good hits in, but most of the punches were mine. I enjoyed it. And then he fell . . ." I paused, closing my eyes as I pictured that awful moment. "The way he landed . . . I knew right away he was dead. People started scattering, cars drove off, the police came . . ."
She looked up at me, her eyes so compassionate and understanding I wanted to fall into them, believing I might find redemption there. "You didn't mean to kill him," she said.
"No. God, no, I never meant to kill him. I just wanted to hurt him, teach him a lesson. I acted as his judge, jury, and as it turned out, his executioner that night."
Kira brought her hand up and ran her thumb over my cheek. How could she look at me with so much love in her eyes after what I'd shared with her? And yet, she did.
"Did they ever find the girl?"
I pressed my lips together. "Yeah, they found her, but too late to do any drug testing. My defense couldn't use her at trial." I took a deep breath. "My defense. What a joke. My father wouldn't pay for a lawyer—he left me to hang," I said, unable to keep the hurt and bitterness from my voice. "I had to hire a public defender. The guy was totally incompetent—and even if he hadn't been, his caseload was so big he wouldn't have been able to do much for me anyway. Still, though, he was sure I'd only get minimal time for what happened—six months at most, community service at best. And so when the judge came back with five years, I was . . . I was floored, shocked. It felt like my life was over."
I felt Kira's body tense but she remained still. I let out a deep breath. "I waited for my father to visit me—even just once—but he didn't. And then Shane came to see me to tell me he'd married Vanessa . . ." The hurt of that moment still affected me, even if the outcome didn't anymore. I'd been devastated. And then I'd cut Shane off too, taking him off my visitor list. He'd tried. All those years, he'd never stopped writing, trying to visit me, nor had Vanessa.
Kira lifted her head to look up at me. "It must have been terrible for you. You must have felt so abandoned, so cheated."
I nodded, knowing how deeply she understood. "I wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for Harley. And you, little witch, had everything to do with that." Her brows furrowed.
"How?"
I told her about what Harley had shared with me. She leaned her chin on my chest, a small, serene smile on her lips. "Maybe in some way I was there with you then," she whispered. "Does that sound crazy?"
I chuckled. "No, it makes sense to me." I looked down at her, my heart thumping in my chest. Her sweet, soft body pressed against mine and amazingly, desire filled my body again. But the aching wasn't only between my legs. The aching was in my heart. I wanted her in every way a man might want a woman.
I love you. I will always love you, I wanted to profess, but the words stuck in my throat, fear rising to choke down any sound. Instead, I leaned down and kissed her, surrendering, but not completely. I wasn't brave enough. Not just yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kira
How strange it was to be in love with my husband. Strange, but completely wonderful. I found myself walking through Hawthorn Vineyard with a small dreamy smile on my lips more often than not. I moved my things into Grayson's room, and we began anew as an actual married couple. I felt as if I was in a constant state of dizziness, not quite able to believe this was real.
We said goodbye to Shane and Vanessa, promising them that once the fall harvest was over, we'd come spend some time with them at their beach house in San Diego. How different their departure was from their arrival. I smiled to myself at the thought, giggling at the memory of Grayson and me sprawled on the foyer floor, thinking perhaps we needed a rematch as The Dragon was still under the impression he'd won.
I spent the days organizing his office, paying off the large pile of accumulated bills, and making my way through six years of accounting records. It wasn't going to be a quick or easy job. Still, I was determined to understand what had happened to bring on the rapid decline of the vineyard that was now my home, and would be from here on out. I wouldn't let it happen again.
I waited with eager anticipation for Grayson t
o get done with his work at the end of each day so we could eat dinner together. And then we'd take long strolls around the vineyard, talking and laughing, sharing secrets and learning about the other as if we were newly dating. For all intents and purposes, that's what we were doing, only for me, with the added element of already being in love. And I dreamed of the day he might fall in love with me, too.
When the hour was decent enough, or sometimes when it wasn't, we'd retire to our bed where we spent long nights making love. I learned things about Grayson that made him go wild with passion, discovered ways to use my body and my mouth that caused him to let go of some of that control he always seemed to carry. And I allowed him to know me too, more deeply and intimately than anyone had before. With every moan, every masculine gasp of breath, every trembling caress, Grayson reassured me that Cooper had been wrong—I brought joy and satisfaction into bed.
When we went into town for dinner a couple times, several people who had been at the party approached us to say hello, and Grayson was warm and personable. It was almost as if I was watching the cold demeanor he'd adopted slide off him in large pieces. Of course, there were still those who eyed him cautiously, but that would just take time. I'd put my mind to work coming up with some other ideas, I told him. He just laughed and said he was sure I would.
One morning, a couple weeks after the party, I decided to take Sugie and stroll through the vineyards. All this time and I hadn't walked the rows of the plants I constantly admired as a distant view. The day had a slight chill to it though the sun was shining brightly—fall was in the air. Soon, this fruit would be harvested and the real work at Hawthorn Vineyard would begin. I inhaled a deep breath of the crisp, earth-scented air, tinged with sweet, ripening grapes. Sugie snuffled at the ground, exploring the things interesting to a dog's nose. Grayson had said he was mostly prepared for the upcoming harvest. He had some hiring to do, but other than that, the equipment was all in working order and ready to go.
That couldn't have made me happier—our plan had worked. The vineyard was primed for success where it wouldn't have been without my gram's money. I stared blindly at the vines of fruit, chewing on my lip. This morning, I was troubled. There was something very worrisome about the accounting files Walter had given me. I didn't want to admit even to myself what I thought I'd figured out, but the more I went over them, the surer I was becoming. And I didn't know what to do.
"You look deep in thought."
I whirled around, bringing my hand to my mouth and laughing as Grayson swooped me into his arms. "How'd you find me here?" I asked as he pressed his lips to my throat. "I thought I was properly hidden from you."
"You can never hide from me. I'll always sniff you out." Then he placed his nose to my throat and started sniffing around like an over-eager dog. Dragon. I squealed, laughing at the feeling of his breath tickling my skin. I pushed him away as he laughed, too.
"And here I went to so much trouble to plot and scheme so I might get you alone somewhere hidden and do all sorts of dirty dragonish things to your body."
I laughed. "Haven't you done enough of that already?" I asked teasingly.
"Never." He turned and it was then I spotted the basket, which he picked up and brought over to where I was standing. He glanced around, setting his sights on a small grassy area in a warm spot of direct sunlight. Opening the basket, he took out a large quilt and spread it out. Grayson turned to Sugie who was sniffing something nearby. "Give us some privacy, Sug. Go chase a mouse or something." Sugie chuffed, moving on to a grapevine further down the row, avoiding the fruit as she'd been trained.
"You have been plotting," I said. "What is this about?"
"This," he said, sitting down and tapping a spot next to him, "is about teaching you to recognize the different grapes. Come here."
I joined him, sitting next to him on the quilt.
"If you're going to be the proper wife of a winemaker, you need to know about the variety of grapes we grow so when people ask, you can answer them with confidence."
"Ah." I attempted to open the basket, but he snapped it closed, making me laugh.
"Patience, little witch. First, I'll need you to undress."
I raised a brow. "This lesson requires nudity?"
"Indeed. As all good lessons do," he said, leering suggestively, the glint of dragonish devilry in his dark eyes. My heart flipped and my feminine muscles clenched at his blatant masculine beauty, made even more compelling when he acted like a dragon.
"It's a little chilly for nudity, don't you think?"
"I'll keep you warm. Promise."
I laughed softly, but obeyed, removing my long-sleeved T-shirt, kicking off my shoes, and unbuttoning the top button on my jeans. I lay back and Grayson held the bottoms and tugged them off. A wave of insecurity came over me as he studied me lying there in my bra and underwear. No one had ever studied me quite so intently and under the bright light of the sun.
"You're so beautiful it hurts," he murmured. He leaned in, feathering his lips down my throat and then whispering in my ear. "I once thought to myself that when I made love to you, I'd always want to do it in the light so I could see every vibrant part of you—this beautiful, richly-colored hair," he picked up a strand and let it fall through his fingers, "eyes so green I want to fall into them . . ."
"Grayson," I murmured, dragging my fingers through his dark hair as my body relaxed, heated under the blanket of his warmth. He went up on his knees momentarily and removed his T-shirt and then leaned forward to unsnap my bra. It fell to the side, and he brought the straps down my arms, his eyes lingering on my nipples, hardening immediately in the crisp air.
"Just like rose petals," he whispered. And then he came back over me, his tongue slipping into my mouth. I shivered, sparks igniting between my legs.
My hands skated down his spine. His skin—like hot satin. He was so broad, so hard everywhere compared to my softness—sinfully, perfectly male. I loved the feel of his weight on top of me, the feel of his shifting muscles beneath my palms, causing a delicious stir in my belly. He was so much stronger than me, and yet he treated me so gently. The slow movement of his pelvis on mine set my blood on fire, and I moaned into his mouth. We had made love countless times already, but somehow each time felt new, different.
I brought my hand between us and ran my fingers over his stomach muscles, feeling them tense under my touch as he sucked in a breath. I loved to make my beautiful husband gasp. He smiled against my mouth, drawing away from me as I let out a small whimper of loss. Ah, but he was the one in control today. Leaning back, he took something from the basket and placed it on the blanket next to us. A bunch of grapes. "This," he said, his voice husky, "is a chardonnay grape." He plucked one from the bunch, sucking it between his lips and biting it in half. I watched, spellbound as he took it between his fingers and brought it to my nipple. I sucked in a breath, leaning my head back as my eyes fell closed. The feel of the wet fruit, warmed by his mouth felt delicious against my tender skin. He leaned down and licked the juice left by the grape, kissing each nipple before bringing the piece of grape to my lips.
"The flavor of a chardonnay grape is usually neutral, the flavors brought out by the oak," he said, rubbing it on my mouth. I licked my lips as he watched my tongue, his eyes growing dark and lazy with desire. I saw the pulse in his neck beating rapidly. I took the grape between my teeth and bit down, closing my eyes as the sweetness burst across my tongue. Grayson leaned in again and kissed me, swirling his tongue in my mouth.
"Hmm," he murmured against my ear as he pulled away from my mouth.
"You're doing well so far. A very attentive student," he teased.
"You're somewhat hard to ignore."
His lips tilted up in a small, satisfied smile and he leaned back and pulled another bunch of grapes from the basket, these bluish purple. "Cabernet Sauvignon," he said, his voice low. He again took one to his lips and bit it in half, trailing it down my belly. Leaning in to lick the juice, the feel of his hot t
ongue on the sensitive skin of my stomach causing my pulse to jump frantically. I clutched his head in my hands, gasping out a breath. He lifted his head and for one brief second, our eyes met and held, something unspoken flowing between us.
I love you, I thought. My heart is yours. I let my head fall back, too afraid to say the words for fear he wouldn't say them back.
"These grapes make a full-bodied wine," he said, his voice sounding as if he was fighting for control. Either I would never remember this lesson, or I would remember every word. Every sensation.
Before I even realized it, Grayson had stood and apparently taken off his shoes because he was now stripping off his jeans. He was back down beside me in only seconds, plucking another grape from a different bunch of deep purple fruit. He held it in his teeth and hooked his thumbs in my underwear. As I lifted my hips, he pulled them off, tossing them aside. Kneeling beside me, he ran his index finger between my legs and I moaned, parting for him. He ran the grape over my most sensitive skin as I fought to control my hips from thrusting toward him, wanting more. "Merlot," he practically growled. "Yields wine with rich berry-like flavors." I sighed in torment and relief as he licked up the juice. As his tongue swirled and lapped at me, the pleasure was so intense I thought I might orgasm in mere moments. I squirmed, panting out his name. He suddenly came over me again, my cool skin warmed again by the cover of his heat. He took himself in his hand and rubbed his swollen head on my entrance as I tilted my hips toward him in open invitation.
"Yes," he breathed, thrusting inside.
My breath caught at the now-familiar feel of him filling me. Nothing more wonderful. Nothing. Except, yes, there was.
He began to thrust.
I let out a high-pitched gasp at the sudden, intense pleasure and ran my hands down his back to end at his ass, relishing the hard feel of his working muscles under my palms. We moved together, like sensual poetry, the pleasure building higher and higher, until there was nowhere else to go except over the edge. I cried out, blissful spasms wracking my body as distantly, I heard Grayson grunt his own climax, his hips making two last clumsy thrusts as he came, shuddering and then breathing harshly into the crook of my neck. The world was suddenly still as I floated back to earth, Grayson's ragged breath slowing against my skin. The clouds floated lazily above, birds cried out in the surrounding trees, and my husband's heart beat against my own. And it felt as if the world was only filled with beauty.