Summer in Napa (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (31 page)

He took her breasts in his hands and kissed one, then nibbled and licked his way over to the other, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to start and was determined not to miss an inch of skin.

He paid such careful attention that by the time he’d made his way to the hem of her panties she was a vibrating ball of sexual need. Then he skipped right over her panties and dropped a kiss on her knee. It was a nice kiss, firm and warm, and it sent little zings all the way to her toes. But that wasn’t where she wanted the zing—or his kisses—to go.

“I’ve always dreamed of kissing you here.” He pressed a love bite on the inside of her thigh.

“That was a bite, not a kiss. And of all the places, that’s the one you dreamed about?”

He smiled. “My dream, my rules. I also dreamed about here.” He did it again, only harder, then licked the sting away. “And here.” He moved higher.

“That’s a lot of dreams,” she laughed, her smile fading when his tongue slid around the edge of her silk panties. It was too hard to smile while you were moaning.

“We’re talking a lot of years, cream puff.” He leaned up and kissed her lips. “Want to know where my most frequently recurring dream took place?”

His hands slid up her thighs, and she knew exactly where she wanted it to take place next, and just how many times she wanted it to recur. But if he wanted to play, she could too. She cupped both of her breasts and raised a brow. “Here?”

He gave each nipple a soft kiss and then said, “Although that was my very first dream, over the years it came in at number four.”

“Hmm.” She slid her hand down her stomach and under the elastic of her panties and rubbed her swollen, moist skin. “I bet for a teen boy who has a thing for watching windows, this would rank right up there at number one.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes blazing and riveted to the triangle of silk, like if he stared hard enough he’d develop X-ray vision to see just what her fingers were doing. “Right up there, but not number one.”

He ran his fingers up her thighs, and when they came back down, they had her panties with him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he whispered, and she realized that she had stopped. All of her brazen confidence had fled now that she was completely naked, splayed out for his viewing pleasure, and he was still wearing his jeans.

“Maybe you should lose some of that.” She pointed to his clothes.

“Sugar,
that
is the only thing keeping
this
”—he jerked his eyes toward his crotch—“from blowing the identity of dream number one. This.” He leaned forward and delivered an openmouthed kiss directly to her center, causing her hips to buck against his lips. “Yeah, definitely ranks in at number two. But something’s missing.”

Her eyes, which she hadn’t even known had slid shut, flew open at his comment. “Missing?”

“Oh yeah.” He kissed her again, pulling a small noise from her throat. “In my dreams I always imagined you screaming.”

His hands slid under her butt, and he raised her right as his mouth settled on her center. She nearly gave in and screamed when his strong tongue pressed against her in one long lick. This would be over before it ever started, and she wanted it to go on—and on. Especially when he used his lips, his breath, his teeth, each with the perfect amount of pressure and each at the right moment.

Her whole body pulsed with anticipation, so she pushed her heels into the edge of the couch and slapped her palm over her mouth to keep the pressure inside.

Then he delved deeper.

“Oh God!” exploded from her lips, and she bucked up against him while rolling her hips to increase the pressure.

“Oh God,” she said again louder. One last buck and heat shot though her, sending her body into a frenzy as each wave of her orgasm washed over her.

Marc didn’t stop; he just slowed down, applying more kisses than nips. Convinced that she didn’t have a single bone left in her body, Lexi sagged against the back of couch. Eyes closed, heart still racing, she was content to sit and absorb the best orgasm she’d ever had.

In. Her. Life.

Her breath was just returning to normal when she felt Marc’s tongue again. He licked her once, right up the middle, twice, a third time, slowly gaining momentum. She opened her eyes and saw that his brow was furrowed and his eyes were determined.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice trailing off when he blew on her pleasure button.

“In my dream you scream.”

“I did scream.” She even screamed again when his hand joined in the fun.

“My name.” He slid a finger in, smiling at her when she clenched around him. “You scream
my
name.”

Which she had no problems doing when he moved faster, focusing all of his determination on the smaller bundle of nerves. He circled his tongue right as his finger hit that perfect spot and—

“Yes, yes, God, yes.” Every muscle tightened, tension built, making her back arch. “Marc, please,” she begged, squeezing her thighs against his head. He slid in a second finger, sending a violent jolt of pleasure shattering her body.

“Marc!” she cried out when her body erupted again. She was so spent that when her eyes opened and she caught him smiling at her, all she could manage was a lazy grin in return.

“Was that better?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. Never once in my dream did you ever squeeze your legs so tight around my head that I almost passed out.”

“I did not,” she said, but didn’t feel all that confident in her denial, since her thighs were tender and when she tried to move, she had to stifle a wince. So when Marc kissed his way back up her stomach, she had to admit, “I’m too sore to even move.”

His eyes softened. “That’s my job,” he whispered against her lips and lifted her into his arms.

He carried her down the hallway and into her bedroom. The mattress was cool against her back as Marc laid her down, then sprawled out beside her in all of his naked glory. And glorious he was. His shoulders were wide, his chest wider, and all muscle she noticed as her fingers traced down his pecs to
his flat stomach, enjoying how it rippled and beaded beneath her touch. She loved that she had the power to turn him on.

He rolled on his side, resting his head on his bent arm so that he could watch her explore his body. He was a big man…everywhere. And she realized that, although she had had two standing Os, he had yet to have his first.

“Take your time,” he said, reading her mind. “We have all night.”

“I’m done,” she whispered, rising up to kiss him on the lips. She loved how he felt under her hands, but she wanted him inside of her body.

“You sure?” He kissed her back.

She parted her lips and took the kiss deeper, showing him just how sure she was. He followed her lead, moaning when she arched up so that just the tip of his erection pressed against her heat. She did it again, tilting her hips so that the tip slid in just enough that he jerked back.

“Condom,” he said, tearing open the package on the bedside table and rolling it on. Then he laced their hands together and brought them above her. “And I get to do all the work, remember?”

She didn’t even get to argue because he pushed inside her in one slow movement and then they were both too busy sighing to speak. They lay utterly silent, enjoying the intimate connection.

“God, sugar. You feel so right,” Marc whispered into the curve of her neck, and she felt her heart open a little more. Because it did feel right, so incredibly right, and yet she wasn’t scared of what that meant anymore.

Marc pulled all the way out and then slowly sank back in. The exquisite sensation made her moan; it also made her
spine curl so she could take him deeper. Marc pulled back and caressed the back of her knee, lifting her leg to wrap it around his waist before pushing back in.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Yes, what?” he said, half joking but half serious.

“Yes, Marc,” she played along, happy when she was adequately rewarded.

He picked up the pace, never rough or hard like she would have thought. No, everything about Marc was smooth and unhurried and made her feel cherished—beautiful. He worshipped her body with his hands while whispering sweet things to her, and every time she felt him get close, he pulled back and slowed down.

Lexi had always enjoyed sex, but she realized that she had never been made love to until now. Until Marc.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, staring down into her eyes, making sure that she was right there with him, enjoying every second. She was. She enjoyed every kiss, every touch, every time he filled her.

She ran her hands down his back and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer. “More.”

“Thank God,” he mumbled, taking her mouth with his. His hips moved faster, deeper, and right when she knew that he couldn’t hold back any longer, he groaned out her name. Her whole name.

Just the sound of her name falling off his lips, rough and raw, took her over the edge. She broke apart in his arms as he gave a final push before collapsing on top of her. They were a tangle of arms and legs, panting and sweaty, and yet Marc took care to make sure he didn’t crush her.

A few minutes later he asked, “You okay?” When she didn’t answer, he lifted his head. “I’ll take that smile on your face to be a yes.”

She nodded, and he rolled off her and went to the bathroom. Returning to bed, he immediately pulled her close. He brushed her hair aside and pressed a warm kiss on her forehead.

“I assume that was your number-one dream.”

“I thought it was. But now I think I’ll have a new one.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” He tightened his arm around her waist, holding her snug against him. “Now go to sleep. Your man wants a big breakfast in the morning.”

L
exi stood at the back of the St. Helena Courthouse. Even though she was strategically positioned by the door in case she needed to make a quiet escape, she could still smell the roasted figs and baked gorgonzola wafting from her dish, which sat at the front of the room.

She warily glanced around the courtroom and felt a bubble of panic rise up. The room was large, with a domed ceiling and enough mahogany benches and paneling to build life-sized replicas of the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. Which was a good thing, since half the town had turned out to see who would win: a disaster of a divorcée or a busty gold digger. The judges were seated, in the jury box to be exact, the plates had been served, and rumor had it that Mrs. Rose, current wine commissioner, was allergic to peanuts. Lexi didn’t know if pistachios would be a problem, but she noticed that Mrs. Rose was picking out anything remotely nut-shaped.

“Why is Mrs. Rose sitting at the judge’s bench?” Lexi whispered to Marc, who stood right beside her. He was wearing khaki shorts and a gray UC Berkeley tee that did amazing things to his eyes, and looked relaxed and irritatingly sure of himself. Then again, his talent wasn’t on the chopping block.

He tilted his head in her direction, and for a moment Lexi thought he was going to kiss her. Something warm and soothing washed though her. Then he dropped his voice and spoke, and Lexi realized that he just hadn’t wanted to be overheard.

“The only way she’d agree to give up her Saturday skeet-and-trap-shoot time was if we held it in the county courthouse with her as presiding judge. ChiChi even snuck into the judge’s chamber and
borrowed
Judge Pricket’s robes and gavel.”

“Don’t forget that Nate had to cough up a case of his new reserve,” Abby added, coming up from behind to join them. She wore a cute sundress that highlighted her figure. The woman might be vertically challenged, but she was a mass of sleek curves. “He was pissed.”

Lexi looked up at Marc, who winked. He
had
been about to kiss her, she thought giddily, but then Abby had crept up. Not able to look at Marc without going warm, she turned her attention to the other DeLuca brother in question.

Nate sat in the jury box, wedged between Hard-Hammer Tanner and an empty seat, with the mayor on the far end. He was glaring at Frankie, who was chasing Simon around the witness stand and glaring back.

Simon Baudouin had the markings of a dairy cow, the body of a small boar, and the face of a gremlin after a head-on
collision. Showing his fangs, he skirted around Frankie with a low snort and barreled toward the jury box.

“Simon, stop,” Frankie snapped.

Simon did stop, his fat belly shaking with excitement, as he gnawed on the leg of the mayor’s chair. Frankie drew close, cornering him and grabbing him around his abnormally wide girth. She hoisted him up, his little legs still moving as though trying to get traction on the air, and plopped him on Nate’s lap with a growl—it was Frankie growling, not the dog.

Unaffected, Simon snorted happily up at Nate and then took to gnawing on his watch.

“Seems like that’s not the only favor he had to pull to make today happen,” Lexi said, feeling guilty.

“Nah, Nate and Frankie have been trying to kill each other for years. It’s kind of entertaining,” Abby noted.

And if that wasn’t enough, the DOP senior league, huddled around the prosecution’s table, was shooting rubber bands at the junior league, who’d settled themselves primly behind the defense. It was like
Iron Chef
meets the Hatfields and the McCoys, and somehow Lexi’s dish, and her and Marc’s relationship, were at the center of the feud.

Isabel Stark turned around and saw Abby. Her eyes went wide, and she started waving, with a smile that was both caffeinated and kiss-ass. Just watching her was exhausting.

Abby nodded back. “Oh God. That woman has been calling me nonstop, asking if I need to talk about Richard, wanting to know how I’m holding up, if Nate is looking to settle down.”

“According to Isabel, she’s the F to your BFF,” Regan said, waddling through the doors, one hand on her belly and
the other tangled with Gabe’s. “Hey, Lexi, we came to wish you good luck.”

Abby rolled her eyes, and Lexi noticed it was not directed at Regan, but rather inclusive of. Their relationship had been rough at the start, but Abby was genuinely trying to make Regan feel welcome in the DeLuca brood. Lexi knew it was hard on her friend and was proud of the progress she’d made. It was one step closer to her letting go of the past.