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“Excellent. February?” Connall says, gesturing to a seat by the window. I sit down.
I smirk to myself as the captain goes back into the cockpit, slamming the door behind him.
“He doesn’t seem happy,” I say.
“He never is. As long as he gets us to where we’re going safely, I don’t give a fuck if he’s happy.” He reaches over me and buckles my seatbelt for me before buckling his own.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I say, smiling at him.
“You’re not ready for me to tell you how I feel,” he says. I want to say something back, but I don’t get a chance to before Carlos appears with two cups of coffee. I guess it’s a bit too early for champagne, which is what I always imagined people drank while on private planes.
Once we are in the air, I pull my laptop out and get to work.
Once we land in California, we stop in LA to meet with Wayne Robles. He was a bit of a jerk, and I honestly thanked God that he wasn’t the one. We got back on the plane and headed for Sonoma. We checked into the hotel, and though we have separate rooms, I know he’s right next door to me. After being so close to him all day, it feels off that I’m not near him now. I lie in bed, thinking about him. I have been on edge all day. My pussy is soaking wet, nothing new there, and I need to relieve the ache. Reaching under my nightgown, I rub my clit wishing it was him on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. That does it. I come, moaning his name.
Somehow, it’s not enough. I’m afraid nothing will be good enough unless it’s him. Inside me. Owning me.
CHAPTER TWO
CONNALL
Yesterday was a long day. Not only did we make the trek to Los Angeles, California, going straight from the airstrip to meet the first guy, Wayne Robles, but we barely made it to the hotel before we had to dive into work and send off these estimates. The following day, we took the scenic drive to Sonoma, California, to meet the second guy, Cody Durham, who, if I may say so myself, has done well for himself in the wine business. Hell, he has done more than well, and when he found out who I was, he damn near fangirled over my reputation in the investment industry. Right then and there, he asked me to take on his account. He found it more than humorous when I had to look at February to see if I even had the space to take on another client.
Needless to say, it was a bust in one way but good in another. We could have left California after that, but as she has never been here, we decided to take the rest of the week here. So, here we are on a wine tour of Sonoma, planning our next excursion, and I am busy trying to think of all the ways I can murder and hide the body of the tour guide who keeps eye-fucking my woman. “Connall, are you listening to me?” She scolds, nudging me in the side. She follows the scowl of my eyes and rolls hers. “Stop looking at him like that. He has done nothing,” she says, going back to the activity book.
“Yeah, if he did more of nothing, you’d be damn near naked in his mind,” I growl, giving him my death glare.
“Men are so confusing,” she mumbles under her breath. Now I feel like an asshole.
“I’m sorry. I’m listening. What do you want to do next?” Her face brightens and I have to remind myself she loves it when I give her my undivided attention, something she usually has when we are closed off in my office.
“Well this tour is usually followed by cheese tasting.”
“Not with this fucker,” I say louder than I mean to, which is evident by the way the woman in front of me looks at me. February giggles beside me, covering her mouth with the brochures; like it always does, her giggles make me chuckle myself.
“No grumpy. We switch at the end of the wine tasting to the cheese maker.” Thank fuck I don’t know how longer I could have held out.
“Then let’s do it. I love cheese.”
“Me too,” she says, licking her lips. Logically I know she is thinking about the cheese, but my cock twitches, picturing her licking my pulsing prick with those puts on her. Shit. There is nowhere for me to adjust myself right now.
For the next hour and a half, we sample wines. Some are fantastic, and I order cases for my own collection; others haven’t aged well. I am more than impressed with her palate. “Where did you learn about wine?” I ask, Clamoring to know all I can about the woman who is the center of my world and doesn’t know it.
“My grandfather owned a vineyard in Iowa. He was the only vintner in that part of the country.” My mind goes over what I know about wine, and then I look at her in complete shock.
“Holy shit. Your grandfather was William Bragden?” She looks surprised that I know who he is.
“Yes. How do you know that?”
“His wine was the first one I had ever tasted. When he decided to sell it, I had made my first million, and the first thing I did was buy the vineyard from him and keep him on so he could continue to do what he loves but not have to carry the burden. How is it I never saw you there?” I can see tears forming in her eyes, and on instinct, I pull her into my arms and wrap all I have around her until she stops shedding those offensive things that make me feel like shit.
“He and my mother had a falling out. I used to spend my summer with him, and I loved it. Before I was old enough to know what wine was, he showed me how to age, smell, and sip it. My mother’s didn’t approve when they finally got wind of it and forbade me to come back. I cried every summer and begged for them to let me go, but then one day…” Her words faded off, and I knew what she was going to say because the day he died, sitting on the porch of his home, I left exactly the same way.
“Oh, sweetie, I am so sorry. That would explain the sad look he would often get out of the blue, and when I would ask, he would just say, " Fight for the things that matter, boy. They are the only reason to keep going.” She gasps and puts her hands to her mouth, hiccupping.
“Oh God. He still loved me. I missed him so much.” She is once again in my arms sobbing, and the only thing I can think of to make it stop is to kiss her. So that is what I do. I lift her chin and plant my mouth on hers. I know she has stopped crying, and I can lift my head, but now that I have her like this, I can’t talk myself down. When she gasps, I use the opening to slide my tongue into her mouth.
“Kiss me back, baby,” I whisper against her sweet lips. She hesitates, and I fully expect her to slap me or something, but then her hands grip my jacket, and the heat factor goes up. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her into relishing the evidence of her innocence. Slowly with actions, I show her how to kiss me back, and thank fuck she is enjoying this as much as me. I damn near forget where we are until dipshit clears his throat.
