Love in the Vineyard (The Tavonesi Series Book 7) (20 page)

“It’s too bad Amber left today,” Adrian said, following the burst of insight that remembering his grandmother’s words had kindled. “She loved what you’re doing with the pollinator garden and she’s dying to talk plants with you.”

Natasha scooped up a forkful of Leonora’s rice. “You have room for far more native plants in the side gardens.” As she spoke, her face lit with the enthusiasm he loved. “In fact, given the size of your greenhouse, you could grow starts and sell them in the gift shop.” She waved her fork in a circle in the air and smiled. “Maybe even develop a wholesale native-plant business for the county.”

Her passion provided an opening for him to introduce his plan. But he had to go slowly. Let the vision take hold.

“I like it.” He spoke calmly in spite of the excitement firing in him.

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Pardon?”

“I like your idea.”

“It’s a simple one, really.”

“Sometimes simple is best. Would
you
be interested in developing a project like that?” Already his mind was ticking off the steps needed to set her up to manage the new endeavor. But instead of pleasure and the spark of anticipation, he saw fear in her eyes.

She put her fork down and pushed her plate a few inches away on the low table.

“No. I like what I’m doing now.”

Maybe she was being humble. Though he hadn’t known her long, he felt a kindred spirit with her; they both navigated their lives with a driven intent. But he knew the signs; she was holding herself back. He just didn’t know why. Maybe he simply had to nudge the process along from behind the scenes. And though the idea took hold in his mind, her stiffened posture and guarded gaze told him it would be best to drop the subject of her work for now. Clearly it wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss. He would wait for the right time. Such a time would come, he was sure of it.

He pointed to where the sun was setting on the horizon.

“See that plain that spreads from here along the north edge of town and then stretches out of sight?”

She shaded her eyes and peered out.

“That’s a coastal plain. Locals call it the Petaluma Gap. There’s no hill between here and the ocean, so the fog and wind roll in, and we get the vast temperature swings that make it possible to grow great Pinots here.”

He saw her shoulders soften. She began eating as she listened.

“I’m helping the local growers apply for their own appellation. I think the wines of this region deserve the distinction.”

She took in a breath. He was mesmerized by the rise and fall of her shoulders and the way she turned her face into the dimming light.

“The lack of a mountain barrier must be why the light here has the feel of coastal light. I noticed it as soon as I moved here.”

“Where were you living before?”

As fast as lightning, she closed up like a sea anemone retracting at the slightest touch. Evidently he’d hit on another unwelcome subject. Talking with Natasha was like navigating a field pocked with land mines. But he was up for the challenge.

Although she hadn’t finished her meal, she stood and gathered her plate and fork. “I’ll help you with the dishes.”

“I accept.”

He’d do anything to keep her with him longer. Including curbing his rampant curiosity and forgetting about the food on his plate.

Once back in the kitchen, he dragged the burned pan out of the sink. “This can’t be salvaged.”

“If you soak it, it can be. Look, the bottom hasn’t warped. It’ll be fine.”

He put the burned pan aside and then ran water into the small tub he kept in the other side of the sink.

“Why do you do that?”

“Rome suffered many droughts. It’s an old habit.”

“It’s a thoughtful habit.” The lines around her eyes softened with her smile.

The simple acts of domesticity didn’t dim the desire building in him. And if he was reading Natasha’s body correctly, from the way she tried not to touch him, not even brushing up against him, there was a tinder in her primed to ignite. A tinder he’d have to ignore for now. And for who knew how long before he could win her confidence.

He soaped up a sponge and scrubbed her plate. As he handed it to her to rinse, the plate slipped. By some miracle they both caught it, his hand under hers.

Adrenaline zinged in him, but not from his quick reaction. She’d kept her fingers twined with his as she’d taken the plate from him with her other hand. His pulse fired, pounded, when she set the plate in the sink. She closed her fingers in his more tightly and drew him to her. Her other hand went to his neck. He felt the soapy hot water drip down the back of his shirt when she pulled his head down, drawing his lips to meet hers.

He tried to hold back, to kiss her gently, to avoid sending her into recoil. But he’d wanted her too deeply, too much, and his rock-hard erection had robbed all the blood from his brain.

He slipped his hand from hers and scooped her into his arms, fully expecting her to protest. If she had, he would’ve released her. But instead her tongue drove deeper, shocking the truth home. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Keeping the contact of their kiss, he navigated the stairs and then kicked open the door to his bedroom. And though he didn’t want to break their kiss, he set Natasha on her feet.

His normally well-ordered room looked like a disaster area. His riding clothes were strewn across the floor along with the work clothes he’d doffed before he’d jumped into the shower.

“I apologize for the state of my room; it’s not always such a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

He couldn’t have said anything more perfect. That he hadn’t planned for her to end up in his bedroom made the moment more precious. And less scary. He hadn’t plotted to seduce her. The edge of apprehension she’d had to swallow down in order to make her bold move at the sink and kiss him eased.

But an awkward silence fell between them.

He took her hands in his. “Natasha, I want to make love to you. With every cell in my body and every breath, I want to make love to you. But I need to hear for certain that’s what you want too.”

She pulled one hand away and buried her fingers in the dark curls at the base of his neck.

“Adrian, stop talking and kiss me.”

He whispered her name as he pressed his hand to the small of her back and drew her to him. Their lips met, and some of her chattering thoughts stilled as she surrendered to the strange and wonderful ecstasy of his kiss. As his tongue teased hers, it was as though he was freeing her from the cords of shame that had bound her for as long as she could remember—cords that had imprisoned her and kept her from feeling anything hopeful. She’d heard the word
grace
all her life but hadn’t known its true meaning until now. Suddenly she craved to feel his skin against hers, to feel his heart beat against her breasts. To hold him. And never forget the feeling. She broke off their kiss and with fumbling, shaking fingers began to unbutton her shirt.

“Let me,” he said with the velvet tones she heard every night in her dreams.

He undid the top buttons. Cool air touched her skin, followed by pure heat as his fingertips traced her collarbone. He lowered his head and tracked kisses down her neck while he worked the rest of her buttons free. He peeled her shirt down and dropped it to the carpet. Her heart pounded when his palms curved along her waist and up her ribcage. He unfastened her bra and tossed it away. She inhaled and closed her eyes as he cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs across her aching nipples.

“My God, Natasha. What you do to me.”

She opened her eyes at his wavering tone. His lips crushed hers. This was no gentle kiss. She met his thrusting tongue with a hunger of her own. Like a dragon unleashed, power surged in her, and she tore at his T-shirt.

With a moan, he broke off the kiss. She watched his muscles ripple in his arms as he pulled the shirt over his head.

She had to touch his carved abdomen, to trace the thin line of dusky hair that disappeared into his jeans. To feel him under her palms. To touch so that she would always remember this night, for certainly there could be no others. Her hand stilled at his belt buckle but then roved lower to the throbbing proof of his desire. Unable to resist, she stroked the length of him.

He snatched her hand away, his fingers circling her wrist with firm yet gentle force. It had never occurred to her that force could be gentle and alluring. That she’d crave the power it promised.

“If you do that one more time,” Adrian practically growled, “I won’t be able to give you the pleasure I’ve dreamed of since the night we first met.”

So she hadn’t been alone in her dreaming. Maybe some dreams could be trusted.

He lifted her and laid her across the bed. Bending over her, he tracked hot, branding kisses from her neck to the space between her breasts. Her body arched when he took a nipple into his mouth and teased and sucked and made her cry out his name.

She was even more lost when he teased the other nipple, suckling until she forgot where she was. Forgot all but the man at her breast and the pulsing passion rushing through her. Desire surged as the heat of his palm branded her belly. But when he slid his hand under the waist of her jeans and his fingers stroked her sex, pleasure, need, want and dreams rushed together, melding in a wave that took her breath, dissolved her thoughts and engulfed her in a vast sea of merciless sensation.

“Float, Natasha… let me please you.”

His words drew her back. But when she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she knew there was no shore to swim to, no safe place to find shelter from the desire he’d set coursing in her body.

His lips quirked up, first one corner and then the other. She struggled to school her features and respond to his devastating smile, fought to find words to hold on to as the current he’d loosened threatened to carry her away. He was right. There were languages and ways of communicating that had nothing to do with words. And she was lost in the sea of messages and meanings she’d never dreamed could come to life in her.

He moved to kneel at the side of the bed, keeping one palm on her abdomen as if to hold her down, to keep her from flying up, from flying away. With his other hand he eased her jeans down her thighs and pulled them off. Her breath caught as he lifted her legs to straddle his shoulders. He bent down and the heat of his mouth seared through the fabric of her panties. Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to pull her legs off his shoulders, but his forearms clamped her legs in place.

“No.” She barely managed the near-breathless whisper.

He stilled. And then released her. His brows drew together. “No?”

“If I’m naked, I want you naked too.” There had to be something, anything, to balance the power coursing between them.

His lips lifted in a half grin. “That can be easily accomplished.”

He stripped off his jeans and then the tight white briefs under them. His erection sprang free, and she gawked. So much for balancing power. She sat up and reached for him.

“No, Natasha. You mustn’t. Not yet. Relax. Let me give to you.”

The words were simple. And his soft accent made them sound like the seductive refrain of a vampire. But what he asked her to do? Not so simple.

She couldn’t tell him she wasn’t used to anyone giving to her. That she feared letting go. And she couldn’t
believe
she was in bed with a man who used a word like
mustn’t
. The thought made her giggle.

“I love that sound.”

“What sound?”

“Your laugh.”

He pressed her back against the bed.

“Let go, Natasha. Just let go. Please. Trust me.”

She loved the sound of her name coming from his lips. His
please
was no gentle request. Though she knew she had a choice, she really didn’t. The vast sea of bliss, of the aching desire that was its insistent song, would not be tamed. Her body, her soul and her heart overruled the cautions of her mind.

He slipped her panties down her legs, and his fingers tattooed her desire deeper into her core. He kissed the inside of her knee, then her thigh. The faint stubble of his beard abrading against her as he planted warm kisses higher and higher made her shiver. But then she felt his lips against her mound, pressing into her flesh, firmly, as if to tell her he wouldn’t be denied. His tongue circled but didn’t touch the place she most wanted it to. When he circled again, she knew he was teasing her. His fingers parted her, opening her to him. When he closed his lips around her pulsing, most sensitive spot, the moan that escaped her was a far cry from a giggle. He circled his tongue again, and she was sure she would die if she couldn’t catch her breath. His finger pressed into her. She didn’t die. Fear and hope and a strange, terrific ecstasy fired, each sensation melting into the next. She soared, shuddering and releasing. And to her surprise, she let go.