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With a nod, Jewel said, “Sensational flavors. Now, tell me my story.”
Rogen sipped his cognac while she enjoyed the rest of hers. Then he rinsed their glasses and poured another sample.
He unraveled his bow tie to get comfortable. J
ewel’s gaze fixated on his strong fingers, deftly working the tie until the ends fell against his crisp white shirt. It’d been a hell of a long time since she’d felt his hands on her naked body. Remembering how lovingly, how sensually, he’d always touched her sparked an intense craving deep within her.
Rogen shrugged out of the tuxedo jacket, removed and pocketed his cuff links, and rolled up his sleeves.
Jewel was held spellbound, her arm suspended in the air, her snifter lifted midway to her lips, as she eyed Rogen over the rim. Exhilaration shimmied down her spine. Flames of desire licked her clit, sending a sizzle straight to the core of her being.
Rogen’s gaze smoldered as he watched her watch him. As though he knew exactly what he did to her. How his nearness, how his fluid movements, how the sight of his large hands and powerful forearms, ignited her insides.
When he slipped the first few buttons of his flap through their holes, Jewel’s jaw slackened. She had no doubt her irises blazed with appreciation of his considerable assets, the memory of what he looked like stripped bare, hard and wanting her.
Her mouth watered. Her pulse reverberated within her, a measured cadence that thrummed against all of her erogenous zones, heightening her arousal.
Rogen said, “You keep staring at me like that and I’m gonna skip right over the story you want me to tell you and get straight to the kissing.”
Her heart jumped. Her pussy clenched. Lust and need hitched her pulse further. Though she told him, “I didn’t come here for kissing.”
His brow crooked. “Being with me hasn’t crossed your mind since you arrived? Because I have to say, sweetheart, the way you devour me with those big blue eyes of yours … Well, kissing you is about the only thing I’ve been able to think of from the moment I saw you.”
“I … Rogen.” She shook her head. Fought to find the right words.
Hell, yes, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to do so much more than that.
Jewel wanted him to peel away her dress. Touch her everywhere. With his hands, his mouth, that very talented tongue of his. She was desperate to feel him buried deep inside her, doing that slow, steady pumping of his cock that felt as though he were stroking her very soul as he rubbed against her most sensitive spot and made throaty moans fall from her lips.
“Sip,” he quietly prompted, reminding her that she still held her snifter in mid-air as every nerve ending went haywire.
Jewel did as instructed, operating strictly on autopilot, because she was now lost somewhere in his heated gaze, somewhere in her heart, somewhere that had once been a safe haven for their love and desire for each other.
Rogen gave her his easy grin and said, “When the monks first started making wine, they anxiously awaited the day their varietals aged to the point where they could sample the Lord’s sacrament. The time eventually came, and they cracked open a cask, tapping the wine with excitement and gratitude for the blessed rite. But something was amiss.…”
One corner of Jewel’s mouth quirked as Rogen’s gaze turned mischievous. She loved this story.
He said in a curious tone, “‘What’s this?’ the monks asked, bewildered to find that a portion of their sacred wine was missing. They tapped several more casks to see if the other barrels were low on wine as well. Indeed they were.” Rogen’s brow jerked up again. “‘But how could this be?’ Unless … They glanced around, suddenly suspicious that perhaps their brothers had been sneaking wine in the middle of the night. Wine meant for divine consumption, not one’s personal pleasure.”
“Those naughty monks,” Jewel teased.
Rogen’s grin widened. “It wasn’t in the monks’ nature to be accusatory, of course, but what other explanation could there be? Mistrust rippled through the monastery, and the monks set up nightly watches to make sure no one violated the agreement to only serve the precious offering as Eucharist and Communion. Yet each cask they checked, they found more of their wine missing.”
“Well, wine does beat the hell out of holy water.”
“Sacrilege!” He feigned shock. Though there was a twinkle in his eye.
Jewel laughed. Rogen had always been good at lightening her heart.
“So, what happened?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat, listening intently, though she’d heard this tale a thousand times before. She loved how Rogen got caught up in the telling of it, his mesmerizing facial expressions, the octave his voice dropped.
“Naturally, the accusations grew, until the monks were fighting amongst themselves, even though none could prove their brothers were the offenders. Then a rainy day brought with it a leak in the roof. So a couple of the monks climbed onto the red tiles to replace the damaged ones and discovered something intriguing.…”
Jewel sucked in a breath for effect. “Whatever could it have been?”
“The entire roof was shielded with the clay tiles. However, only the ones directly above the casks were covered with a thick moss. They found this curious. They reported back to their brothers and they all pondered the mystery of it. And suddenly came to the stunning conclusion that no one was stealing their wine—at least not anyone within the walls or under the roof of the monastery.”
“Then the culprit would be…?”
