Inside, the winery is airy and elegant, the ceiling strung with glowing twinkle lights. The wide room opens into floor-to-ceiling windows that look out across the rolling hills, the vines barely visible in the last stretch of dusk. The air smells faintly of oak barrels and crushed grapes, warm and rich.
A host greets us with a practiced smile, checks Mason’s reservation, then leads us to a table tucked in the far corner—private, cozy, with a perfect view of the windows and the golden twilight beyond.
Mason pulls out my chair for me before sitting down across the table.
“You really didn’t have to do all this,” I say, gesturing around vaguely. “This must be really expensive.”
“I wanted to,” he says simply, eyes steady on mine. “It’s our first real date as boyfriends. It needs to be special.”
The waitress steps up to our table, a tall woman with silver hoop earrings and a black pencil skirt.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Tonight’s tasting is a fixed menu,” she explains, placing two slender-stemmed glasses in front of us. The wine catches the light like liquid gold. “And I should note—everything has been prepared vegetarian, as requested with your reservation.”
My head snaps toward Mason, warmth blooming in my chest. He’s so thoughtful it hurts. I want to leap across the table and kiss him breathless, but I rein myself in.
The waitress continues, “To begin, you’ll be trying our 2021 Chardonnay Reserve. It’s crisp and lightly oaked, paired with a shaved fennel and apple salad, finished with candied walnuts and a citrus vinaigrette.”
She sets two small plates between us, the salad arranged like something out of a magazine—slender curls of fennel glistening under a drizzle of dressing, bright green apple slices fanned across the top.
“Thank you,” Mason says, grinning.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy,” she replies with a polite nod before slipping away.
When she’s out of earshot, I lean in with a smirk. “Are you sure you can handle salad without ranch?”
Mason huffs a laugh. “I think I’ll survive.”
I swirl my wine, inhaling the sharp, fruity scent before taking a sip. Of course, it’s delicious.
“So,” Mason says, stabbing a forkful of salad. “How were your classes today?”
“Well, I officially survived my first week as Dr. Maxwell’s teaching assistant. I thought I was just going to be grading papers, but she already roped me into running a study session next week.”
“Damn,” Mason purrs. “Look at you. Professor Davis has a nice ring to it.”
I scoff. “I’m not a professor. Just a TA.”
“Shut up and let me fantasize about this.” His eyes glint with mischief. “But hey, just be careful. Students have been known to flirt their way into higher grades.”
I snort. “Yeah, right. Nobody’s going to flirt with me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Mason’s tone sharpens just slightly. “You’re literally the hot TA now. Someone’s going to try it. I’m warning you.”
Heat creeps up my neck, equal parts flattered and flustered. “Relax. Even if someone did, I’d shut them down. I already have a boyfriend, remember?”
The tension in his face softens. His lips curve into a smile as he reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You do.”
***
The taste of wine still lingers on Mason’s lips as we stumble up the stairs to my apartment, kissing until we can barely breathe. When I push open the door, the familiar blend of coffee and lavender drifts out to meet us, threaded with the faint sweetness of candles I must’ve forgotten to blow out.
I tug him inside, pressing his back against the door. My fingers skim down his torso, light and teasing, until they wrap around the hard bulge swelling in his pants. He groans into the kiss, rutting against my palm.
“Wait,” he breathes, breaking away just enough to meet my gaze. His chest heaves, eyes blazing. “Hunt, I don’t want you to think this is just about sex. I love you. If you just want to kiss and cuddle tonight, that’s more than enough for me.”
My tongue skims across my teeth as I smirk. “Mase, I love you, but if your dick isn’t inside me in the next five minutes, I might actually lose my mind.”
His eyes widen, heat flaring in them before his restraint snaps. A growl vibrates in his throat as he crushes his mouth back tomine—urgent, messy, teeth scraping my bottom lip. He presses harder against me, rutting like a desperate animal.
