Summer in Napa (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (30 page)

She located her keys, unlocked her door, and when she turned around, she met his gaze. It was nervous and so damn adorable it made his head spin.

He stepped forward, just enough to let her know he was interested, but leaving enough space for her to run the show.

“Thank you.” She reached up and gently kissed his lips. “For tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” Marc caught her face before she could get too far and brought it back to his. Upping the heat level, he moved slowly against her mouth, tugging at her lower lip when he pulled back. “For tonight.”

Neither moved. They stood on her front porch, sharing breath and waiting for the other person to take the next step.

“You want to come up for a glass of wine?” she whispered, flashing a shy smile.

“No,” he whispered back, their lips so close that when he spoke they brushed.

“No?”

“I want to come up, but not for wine.”

That got a startled laugh out of her. Then she smiled and Marc felt his whole world go right.

“Okay,” she began again, only this time wrapping her arms around his neck and crushing those perfect tens against his chest. He looked down to find all that soft flesh, barely contained by her dress. Holy hell, what a view.

“Marc?”

His eyes jerked to hers, which were lit with humor. “I asked if you’d like to have a sleepover?”

“Does this sleepover involve you and me, sweaty and naked?”

“It does.”

“Then, yes. Thank you.” He kissed her again, adding a little tongue and some hand action for emphasis. “For inviting me up.”

“You’re welcome.” She kissed him back. Her hands were doing some action of their own.

Never breaking contact, Marc reached out and opened the front door. Walking backward, they stumbled up the porch step and into the apartment. He kicked the door with his foot, and before it even slammed shut, Lexi was up against the wall, his hands were up her dress, and there was no way in hell that either of them would make it upstairs clothed.
Things were already getting crowded in his jeans. And he didn’t want to damage that dress, so it had to go.

Lexi’s hands were working the buttons of his shirt. She had it undone and was sliding it down his arms in ten seconds flat, forcing him to ease the grip he had on her ass so that she could toss it to the floor.

Then she was going for his undershirt, but he had just got his hands back where he wanted them and he didn’t want to let go again. So he took her mouth with his, hoping to distract her so he could get her out of that damn dress.

“Naked. I want you naked,” she moaned against his mouth while tugging at his shirt, which was shoved up to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric with frustration. He knew how she felt. Her damn zipper was caught in the fabric—again.

He gave it one more yank, and when it didn’t budge, except to get further stuck, he growled, “Fuck it,” and dropped his hands to her ass and lifted. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did and he nearly lost it right there. There was something about her. Something about the smell of her skin, the way he felt when she was pressed against him, the way their connection continued to grow until it blew his fucking mind.

She slid one arm around his neck and dropped the other down his chest, abs, and stomach until it finally settled over the ridge in his jeans, and damn it if he didn’t buck into her hand.

When Lexi’s fingers headed under his waistband, Marc headed up the stairs.

She lifted her head, which had been buried in the crook of his shoulder while her mouth did amazing things to his neck. “Where are we going?”

“Bed,” he said, because he wanted this. He wanted her. Wanted to be inside of her making her scream out his name. And he wanted all of that now. But he also wanted their first time to be special and not up against some wall. Plus, it was hard to taste and touch his fill when his hands were too busy holding her up.

He made it up the stairs in record time, but before he could round the hall she had managed to unbutton his pants and was teasing those soft fingers of hers beneath the elastic band of his boxer-briefs and lower. Her gentle exploring scrambled his brain, and even though he had wanted to make love to her in the bed, that would mean she’d have to stop what she was doing down south and there was no way that was going to happen.

“The couch,” she mumbled, gripping him hard.

Couch. Right. It was soft, had pillows, and would allow his hands to get to the touching part of the evening. Which was exactly what he did the second he sat down, Lexi still wrapped around his middle.

Then they were kissing again, and he forgot about everything except for her amazing lips working his. The kiss was hot and long and he lost himself in it. So when she pulled back and rested her forehead against his, he went still.

Had he blown it? Fuck! He should have taken her to the bedroom.

“Second thoughts?” he whispered, hoping to hell that she said no. When she flashed him a devilish smile and shook
her head, he felt his heart resume beating and his dick go harder—if that was even possible.

“I seem to have this problem with my neighbor.”

“Me too,” he said, sliding his hands down to her ass and pulling her against him so she could see exactly how bad his problem was. “Seems to grow bigger every time I see her.”

“Wow, that’s a hard problem to have,” she said against his ear, tracing a finger down one side of his erection and right back up the center. Holy Christ, her hands were magic. “Mine has to do with the window.”

“Forget the window,” he panted, dropping his head back as she tightened her fingers around his length and gently squeezed. He was willing to forget the window, the bed, anything if it meant she’d start moving her hand up and down.

“If I do that, your cleaning crew will get an eyeful I am sure they won’t ever forget.” He heard her words, but it was hard to process them when all of the blood was rushing south. She slowly moved up his length and tightened her grip before sliding back down.

“No one will see,” he mumbled, his eyes sliding closed.

“You did,” she whispered, her hands never slowing.

“I was looking” was all he managed to get out because she picked up the pace, squeezed to the point of pain, and he knew that he wasn’t going to make it—to the bed, to the touching, to the naked part. Hell, he wasn’t going to last two more seconds. Which meant he’d have to make up for it in round two, because there was no way he was going to stop her.

Two seconds, two hours, he wasn’t sure. Between breathing in her skin, her mouth on his neck, and her hands stroking
him into oblivion, time seemed to disappear. So did everything else.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, a light clicked on. It was from across the alleyway. Marc bit back a curse and stilled her hands. Because the thought of someone watching them, watching Lexi like this? No fucking way. She was his.

“The curtains,” he said, more alert than he’d have liked. “I need to close the curtains.”

“I’ll get it.” Lexi crawled off his lap and pulled the blinds closed. “Better?”

“Thank yo—” was all he got out before she turned around and his breath caught.

God, she was beautiful. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in a mass of golden waves, her mouth was full and wet and so sexy he needed to have it back on him, and her dress was a mess of wrinkles from his hands. She looked like some kind of X-rated prom queen, and he ached to hold her.

“Come here.” He held out his arms.

Only she didn’t walk back over, instead stopping at the end of the coffee table to offer up a playful smile. He wasn’t sure what she had in mind, but that naughty look in her eye was enough for him to sit back and see what she was planning.

Kicking off his shoes, he leaned back, his hands folded behind his head, and relaxed while he let her decide what she wanted to do next.

Without warning, she reached behind her and slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. He could hear the metal teeth as she lowered the fastening, inch by incredible inch. Not feeling so relaxed, he sat upright as she let go and the dress fell to the floor in one swoop, leaving her in those
strappy heels, silk panties, and abso-fucking-lutely nothing else. “You’re welcome.”

Her panties were purple. No wait, lighter than purple. His breath caught…they were lavender.

Her panties were lavender silk, and he’d bet his hotel that they matched her frilly apron perfectly. A fact he filed away for later, because right then he needed to appreciate those breasts. The ones he’d fantasized about since he was fourteen. Not only were they fantasyworthy, they were bigger than he’d imagined, fuller and higher with rose-colored nipples that jutted out perfectly under his gaze.

Her hands hung at her sides, letting him have his look. But he could tell that she was trying not to cover herself.

“Jesus, Alexis,” he breathed. “The things I’m going to do to you.”

She raised a brow, and he watched her walk closer, loving how her hips moved under the silk of her panties and wondering what the small triangle of lavender hid. When she reached the couch, he opened his arms and she went right into them, straddling his lap. Kid move or not, his hands went immediately to her breasts. He needed to touch them, weigh them, get to know each and every inch of them. First with his hands, and then with his mouth.

“Things? There’s more than one?” Her arms were under his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it. “Sounds complicated.”

“Sugar, everything with you is complicated.” He kissed her left breast, right on the underneath side. “Keep my distance.” Then her right. “No flirting.” Back to the left. “No staring. No dreaming.” He stopped, his eyes flying to hers, and he smiled. “Although I broke that rule almost
daily. There was a period of time there that every morning I woke up so hard for you I’d walk around with a bulge in my pants all day.”

“Those teen years must have been rough on you,” she teased, stroking his cheek.

“Teen years?” He turned his head, catching the inside of her palm and kissing her there too. It felt good. Not as good as kissing her breasts. But different good. “Hell, cream puff, I was talking about since you came home.”

“What other rules?”

“Let’s see.” He went back to her breasts, this time using his tongue. “No…absolutely no touching. Because I knew if we did”—he pulled her into his mouth, and she arched back with a throaty cry—“this would happen and I’d never be able let you go. And even if you broke up with Jeff you’d still belong to him.”

She went utterly still. He could feel the doubt creeping through her. “Do you still see me as that girl? As Jeffery’s?”

“No.” He brought his hands to her face so that she couldn’t look away. He’d been battling this attraction for half of his life, which meant he’d been battling some deep-seated guilt about his feelings for Lexi for just as long. After their first kiss last week, he’d come to terms with all of it, and he wanted her to know how he could be with her now, like this. “I figure any man who can walk away from you wasn’t a fucking man to begin with.”

Lexi wasn’t sure what she expected him to say, but that wasn’t it.

His admission was so raw and so real and so freaking hot that it made her body ache in ways she wasn’t sure were healthy. And don’t even get her started on the possessive way his hands gripped her hips when he said it, or how his eyes promised her the world. That made her want things that she hadn’t wished for in a long time. Things that she had long ago given up hope even existed. Or at least existed for a girl like her.

“So, are you a man?”

Marc was silent for so long Lexi felt the urge to pull the crocheted afghan off the back of the couch and cocoon herself inside. But she resisted. This was important and she was no longer content to hide from life, so instead she held his gaze, which was so intense she felt as though he was seeing every inch of the real her.

After a long moment, Marc’s hand slid up her spine and under her hair, gently cradling the back of her head in his palm. The little flecks of light filtering through the crack in the curtains showed the softening in his features. “Around you I am.”

Before she could respond, Lexi found herself in one of the most amazing kisses of her life. His mouth was soft and sure and so gentle it melted her heart—and every last bit of resolve.

Letting go of the past, she gave herself over to the moment, to the incredible connection bubbling between them, and to Marc. It was as though someone flipped a switch and all of her fears of heartache and trust vanished, leaving a need so deep that she knew only Marc could fill it.

“Marc,” she moaned between kisses, a hard task considering that one kiss fell into another, and another, until she couldn’t feel or think about anything but him.

As if he sensed her walls lowering, sensed her giving in, Marc flipped her around, and before she knew what was happening, she was seated on the edge of the couch and he was kneeling between her legs.

“I love your body.” It wasn’t a declaration of love by any means, but the way his hands slid down her form, as though appreciating every curve and dip, made her feel cherished—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.