Forever with Me (With Me in Seattle, #8)(43)

His fingers journey up my temple, along my forehead, and over my eyebrows, making me sigh in contentment. Dear sweet Jesus, the man is good with his hands.

“The villages are busy, bustling with people, but they’re the friendliest people you’ll ever meet.” His fingertip drifts down my nose. “And the colors are just spectacular. The hills are vibrantly green. The sky boldly blue, but when the sun is hanging just right, everything is gold.” The last few words are whispered as he traces my lips with the pad of his thumb. “Watching the sunlight bounce off the dew on my grapevines is as close to heaven as I’ll ever be. It smells…clean. New. Every day is new.”

Now he sinks his other hand in my hair, brushes tiny tendrils off my forehead and cheeks, sending sparks of awareness through me, yet I’m the most comfortable I’ve ever been.

His voice is soothing. His hands are calming. I can’t believe how gentle his touch is when I know how rough he can be.

I can’t get enough of him.

He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to show it to you. Italy is going to love you.”

Before I can respond, he covers my lips with his, in a long, slow, sweet kiss, in that way he does that feels like it’s the first time he’s kissed me all over again. His fingertips continue to tickle my forehead, while his other hand drifts down my side, barely brushing over my breast, down to my hip, where he holds me as his lips brush back and forth over my own. He nibbles his way to the corner of my mouth, then licks along my bottom lip, tugs it with his teeth, and settles in to kiss me long and slow once more.

When he finally pulls back, I can’t open my eyes. My lids are heavy with desire and need, and his fingertips on my skin are making me nuts.

He kisses my cheek, then my nose, and whispers, “Open your eyes, cara.”

They flutter open and I’m staring up into the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, surrounded by dark lashes, olive skin, and raven hair.

“How do you always kiss me like it’s the first time?” I ask breathlessly.

His eyes flicker down to my lips, then back to my eyes. Instead of answering, he offers me that heart-stopping smile, and moves in to kiss me all over again.

I grip onto his strong back and go along for the ride, enjoying his lips on mine, his body covering me, his manly scent flowing around me.

I’m in way over my head. And I don’t want to be saved.





Chapter Twelve





This week has flown by. The second Dominic and I returned to the vineyard, it was full speed ahead with Montgomery wedding plans.

“We’re heading out, Alecia, unless there’s something else you need,” Mark says, as he waves goodbye to his crew.

“I don’t need anything,” I assure him with a grin. My heels click on the hardwood dance floor as I approach him. “This is beautiful.”

His blue eyes take in the massive tent, floor, and stage and he gives me a satisfied nod. “We did good.”

“You did excellent,” I agree.

“We’ll hang the lights and set out tables tomorrow, and that’s about it.”

I can already picture the white twinkling lights strung throughout the tent in my head, the tables set up and decorated with beautiful flowers, smiling people dancing and laughing.

I can’t wait.

“Rehearsal dinner tomorrow night,” I remind him, as he turns to leave.

“Like I could forget that.” He shakes his head and laughs. “I hope you’re ready for the party about to ensue tomorrow night.”

I cock my brow and tilt my head in question.

“The girls will drink and celebrate, let loose. Our family won’t feel comfortable letting loose at the reception, but given that tomorrow night is private, well…” He shrugs and offers me a roguish grin. “Game on.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I wave him off and walk toward the house, let myself in through the side door and run right into Dominic as he comes out of his office. “Hey there, handsome.”

A soft smile spreads over his face, and before he can respond, I rise up on my tip-toes, wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss, then pull away and drag my hands firmly down his arms to his hands and clench them tightly in mine.

“Hi yourself,” he responds.

“How’s your day?”

“It’s gone well. I’m assuming yours has as well?”

I nod and kiss his palm, just before he cups my cheek and rubs his thumb over the apple of my cheek. “I have a few more things to see to.”

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

I smile and squeeze his hands once more before walking away toward the kitchen. Unable to resist, I toss a glance over my shoulder to find him watching me walk away, one hand resting on his chest over his heart, his deep blue eyes smiling at me.

Dear sweet Jesus, my man is hot. And the way my heart skips at the look on his face is just almost disgusting.

And I don’t even care.

I wiggle my fingers in a wave and saunter happily into the kitchen where Blake is whistling while he works, looking handsome in his chef jacket, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his flexing forearms.

“Something smells good,” I comment lightly, and lean over the stove, reaching for the lid of a pot.