Until—
He moves toward me. Not deliberately. Indeed, his actions seem almost involuntary, right down to his lips parting farther.
They brush against my cheek, a soft whisper, and then—
They find mine, and he probes his tongue at the seam of my mouth. No thought required. I open for him, let him in.
Dale Steel.
Dale Steel, who tastes of bourbon and spice and wine and the moon.
A groan.
A groan from his throat.
Just the groan, but still it’s his voice, and the wine color washes over me and through me and around me.
All around me, encasing us both in a colorful cloak.
I’m so ready for this experience. This kiss—
But it’s over before it begins.
Our tongues barely touch, and he pulls back.
Damn.
“I apologize,” he says.
“For what?”
“For…that. I don’t do things like that.”
“You don’t kiss women?”
“I don’t kiss women I barely know.”
“Why did you kiss me, then?”
Silence.
I’m getting used to his silence. Now that he knows how his voice affects me, he may never speak again.
He turns back onto the road.
“Seriously, Dale,” I say. “You told me not to get personal. Then you kissed me. What’s more personal than that?”
Easy answer. There’s a lot more personal than that—places I’d love to experience with this gorgeous man who’s the biggest conundrum I’ve ever come across.
I bet he has a huge-ass cock, and I bet he knows exactly what to do with it.
Damn, damn, damn.
“I apologize,” he says again.
“I don’t want your apology, Dale. I want another kiss.”
His lips tighten.
Did I go too far?
I’m not used to holding back with a man I want. I go after what I want, and I usually get it. I know, though, that Dale will go no further with me. At least not tonight.
Perhaps not ever.
And that thought saddens me. Big time.
“Do you know how to drive a stick?” he asks out of the blue.
“Yeah, why?”
“You may need to drive my truck back to the house tonight.”
“Uh…why might that be?”
“It’s a gorgeous night. I think I’ll stay in the vineyards.”
“All night?”
“Yeah. I love spending the night out there. It’s so…”
“So…?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Ashley, I don’t talk about these things to the people closest to me in the world, so why would I talk about them with you?”
Wow. Boulder to my gut. Big boulder.
I barely know this guy and already he gets to me like no man ever has before. Men aren’t usually rude to me, but on the occasion that one is, I simply tell him to fuck off and then I walk away. I walk away with no regrets.
I can’t walk away from Dale Steel. I’m bound to him for the next three months.
Bigger issue?
I don’t want to walk away from Dale Steel. Already he’s more interesting than any man I’ve ever met.
And more attractive.
No one can deny his physical beauty or the rich depth of his voice.
He’s so much more than all of that, though. Already I know this, and I haven’t even scratched the surface. Diana says he’s brilliant at his craft. That his wines are something truly special. From what I’ve tasted so far, she’s telling the unadulterated truth. Sure, wine tasting is subjective, but even the most noted critics in the world wouldn’t be able to find fault with Dale’s simple table wine, which is anything but simple.
Yet its complexity is simple, which of course doesn’t make any sense at all. Somehow, he made its complexity accessible.
Yeah, I can learn a lot from this man—this man whose knowledge doesn’t come from books but from experience and sheer creativity.
What I want to learn at this moment, though, is what his lips feel like on mine for longer than three seconds.
What his dick feels like inside me.
My mind is so muddled, and even though he hasn’t spoken in a few minutes, still I see the color of his voice. It still surrounds us with its dark-red beauty.
We continue in silence until he pulls into a dirt driveway.
He clears his throat. “We’re here. This is where I park. We have to walk a bit to the vines.”
God, that voice.
“Okay,” I reply.
He gets out of the truck, and I reach for the handle, but he’s there, opening the passenger door for me. A gentleman. Which of course makes him even sexier.
He could be covered in green goo and still be sexy.
How am I—a woman who loves men and loves sex—supposed to resist Dale Steel?
To the west, the sun is setting in a pink-and-orange haze. Oddly, I don’t associate a sound with the colors.
When Dale is near, he seems to block out my synesthesia. It’s oddly comforting to be able to concentrate on one sense at a time. Other than the sound and color of his voice, that is, which still drowns everything else out.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I turn to him. He’s watching the sunset, and the look on his gorgeous face is…serene contemplation. He’s happy here.