“It’s fresh and crisp,” she continues. “Semi-dry, which I shouldn’t like, but I do.”
So she doesn’t like sweet wine? Maybe she’s serious about wine after all. I stop myself from scoffing. Of course she’s serious. She’s getting a PhD in wine, for God’s sake.
“Most fruit wines are made to the sweeter side,” I say.
“I tasted a beautiful tart cherry wine once that was quite dry,” she says.
“Really? I’ve never tasted a fruit wine that was dry enough for me.”
“Probably because you turn your nose up at fruit wines.”
Again, I say nothing. She’s not wrong.
“Just because I’m getting a doctorate in oenology doesn’t mean I’m a wine snob.” She swirls the apple wine in her glass once more and then drinks the last of it, swallowing. “This is lovely. Is it fine wine? Of course not, but it has its place.”
“And what place is that?”
“I don’t know. A crawfish boil. A fish fry.”
“A fish fry…maybe. A light red is perfect with a crawfish boil.”
She stares at me intently. “Have you ever actually been to a crawfish boil?”
“Have you?” I retort.
She blushes. Adorably. “Well…no, actually.”
Neither have I, but no reason to put that out there. I’ve been to a Cajun shrimp boil, though, and a Beaujolais-Villages was perfect.
“Time to stop arguing. Our tasters are going to be here soon.” I quickly pour her a portion of the Cab Franc. “What do you think of this one?”
She takes the glass and swirls the red liquid. “Nice nose. I can smell the oak it was aged in. Lovely. Earthy.”
I nod.
“I’m getting blackberries and green pepper, as well.”
“Good.” Okay, she does know what she’s doing after all.
She takes a sip and holds it in her mouth for a moment before she swallows. “Wow. Tannic. I can taste the tannins from the skins and from the oak. But it’s not too much. It’s…flirty.”
“Flirty? I agree with you on the tannins, but what the hell does flirty mean? Is that a technical term that they teach you in doctor of wine school?”
I expect her to get angry, but she doesn’t. Instead she smiles—a gorgeous smile that lights up her whole face. “Yes. Flirty means it dances across my tongue. It teases my tongue and throat. The tannins are bright rather than all-consuming. This is a versatile wine, Dale. Perfect with or without food.” She takes another sip. “Truly delicious. Plummy. Jammy, even. Medium-bodied but unforgettable.” She pauses once more. “This is unlike any Cab Franc I’ve ever tasted.”
I hold back a smile, but I’m not sure why. “That’s because you’ve never tasted my Cab Franc before.”
“This one’s yours?”
I nod. “I personally believe that Cab Franc is underrated. I love it.”
“I thought Syrah was your favorite.”
“It is. But where Syrah is dark and smoky—lusty, as you’d say—Cab Franc is more versatile. As you said, it can be paired with food or not. Easily enjoyable when done right.”
“Wait, wait, wait…” She sets down her wineglass and advances toward me. “Did you just give me a compliment?”
Did I? I raise my eyebrows.
“Don’t try to deny it. You said, ‘As you said, it can be paired with food or not.’”
“That’s a compliment in your eyes?”
“You agreed with me. It’s the best I’ve ever gotten out of you, so I’m taking it as a compliment.” She takes another step forward.
My groin is on fire. Any closer, and—
I grab her, bringing her to me in a sharp embrace as I crush my lips to hers.
She parts her own instantly, and I swoop between them with my tongue. The tannins, the plum jam, the oak. All on her tongue and in her mouth, all touching her own sweetness.
She kisses me back, entwining her tongue with mine, and a small moan escapes her throat and resonates into me.
She tastes like heaven. Pure heaven, and—
Footsteps clomp outside.
Shit! The tasters. What time is it anyway?
But, God, this kiss.
I want it to go on forever. I could taste her forever. Kiss her mouth, her nipples, her pussy. Every part of her.
I deepen the kiss, taking more of her—
She breaks the kiss and pulls away. “They’re coming, I think.”
Her lips are pink and swollen, even from the short kiss. Too damned short, but it was a hard kiss. An amazing kiss.
A kiss I need more of.
One of the workers knocks softly and then opens the door. “You guys ready in here?”
“Sure,” I say, as nonchalantly as I can.
Then I leave to greet our guests and bring them back.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ashley
My lips are still tingling. I touch them, and they seem to vibrate lightly under my fingertips.
He kissed me.
Dale kissed me.
It didn’t last long, but it was even more amazing than his first kiss.
He wants me. I felt it. Not just in the kiss but in his erection pushing against my belly.
And God…I want him. I want him like I’ve never wanted anything.