If I Were You (Inside Out #1)(69)

His hand resting on my waist is possessive, protective. My throat thickens with his actions. I feel as if no one else exists when I am with Chris and no one has ever made me feel this way. My fear of cute verses beautiful fades away.

We begin the tour and as we stop in various tasting rooms, stucco and stone walls, and rich culture everywhere. We end the tour in a wine cellar that is chilly and I am suddenly aware of my barely there dress and lack of undergarments.

Allison leads us towards the stairs and before we follow, Chris pulls me close, blocking her view with his back. “Cold?” he asks, molding me close, and his hand glides up my ribcage, under the shaw, to caress my breast, and tease my already puckered nipple.

“Not anymore,” I confess breathlessly.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sara. I can’t stop thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you when the opportunity presents itself.”

When the opportunity presents itself, not when we get back to the room. Control. This is all about control and I’d almost taken his earlier tonight. He didn’t like it and he’s making damn sure I know I’m at his mercy. While I sense how much he needs this control, and I am aroused by this side of him, there is a deep part of me that screams in protest, that will not let go of what I’ve spent five years fighting for — my own control.

“Maybe you should think about what I am going to do to you,” I challenge.

His eyes darken, heat, and he surprises me by leaning down near my ear and whispering, “I’ve been thinking about it since the day I met you.”

I expected some power play, and maybe it is that and more, because my reaction is white hot arousal. My heart races wildly and heat rushes through my blood. When he pulls back and draws my hand into his, leading me toward the stairs, I am aware of the raw masculine power radiating off of him, of my absolute burn for this man. Yes. He has control and I cannot wait to give him more. This is a power play and he’s won.

***

We reach the top of the stairs to be greeted by an older couple who look as if they’re in their mid-sixties. The woman is dressed in a simple blue sheath and the man in black slacks and white button-down collar shirt.

“Chris! It’s so good to see you, son,” the woman says. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen my godchild.” She hugs Chris like she is a mother seeing her child for the first time in years, and without question, there are deep ties here.

The man hugs Chris next. “We don’t see you enough, boy.”

Chris pats him on the back and releases him. “I know. I’ll work on that.” He wraps his arm around my waist. “Mike and Katie Wickerman, I’d like you to meet Sara McMillan.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Sara,” Katie beams, offering me her hand. She is pretty with sleek grey hair and a friendly smile.

“Thank you,” I say, sliding my palm against hers. It is warm and so is she. I like her. “I’m excited to be here.”

“Welcome, Sara,” Mike chimes in eagerly. “About time he brings a woman around.”

I blush and shake his hand, but he pulls me close and hugs me. He leans back to inspect me. “Let me look at you. No. No, you don’t look like a wine virgin to me.”

My cheeks heat further and I laugh. “I guess the excellent Cabernet I had in the limo saved me.”

“Broke your cherry, aye?”

I laugh and so does Chris, who pulls me under his arm and leans near my ear. “I thought I did that.”

“Mike!” Katie chides. “She doesn’t know you well enough to get your sense of humor.” She motions us forward. “I have a special tasting room set up for us but we won’t be allowing Mike to taste of the festivities.”

We fall into step behind Katie and Mike. “They like you,” Chris whispers.

“Godchild?”

“They were close friends of my parents and they never had kids of their own.”

I inhale at this announcement, stunned to realize Chris has done more than bring me some place he doesn’t bring other women. This is a piece of his past that I didn’t think he would allow me to see, but he’s let me inside his world, at least this tiny part.

My steps are a little more anxious as we enter a room with a huge wooden table spanning several feet, with a dozen or so chairs on each side. Fruit and cheese trays are displayed in the center of one end of the table.

Chris and I sit side by side and Katie and Mike sit down across from us. Katie is studying me with interest and I tie the shawl around my shoulders, afraid I’ll ruin the ‘virginal’ image I’ve been granted with too much nipple action. “Chris tells us you’ve recently went to work at a gallery in the city?” Katie asks.

“Yes. The Allure Gallery downtown where Chris has a collection for sale. That’s how I met him.”

“I know it well,” Katie comments. “And you were a school teacher before this?”

I’m surprised by how much Chris has shared with her. “I was. I am. My degree is in Art and it’s my true love. We’ll see how the summer works out. My boss says he has high hopes, but seems to think I need to know about wine to truly navigate the art world.”

Mike knocks on the table. “Right he is. Everyone needs to know about wine.”

“Chris doesn’t think so,” I dare to remark.