Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(45)

I closed my eyes, folding my hands on my stomach. “It’s just embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“To swing and miss.”

“But better than not swinging at all, right?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Ellie, it is.” He took my hand. “Trust me. No one hits a home run off every pitch. This wasn’t your pitch.”

“My mother does.”

“Huh?”

I exhaled, annoyed with myself for what I’d just admitted. “My mother does everything right the first time, and everything just comes easy to her. Sometimes I feel like I can’t even be related to her, let alone her only daughter. She’s perfect.”

“Ellie, you are one hundred percent your mother’s daughter.” He linked his fingers with mine. “And no one is perfect—although you’re pretty damn close.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m serious. You’re too hard on yourself, but you’re beautiful and great at your job. You’re smart and professional. You’re creative and loyal and you work your ass off. You can talk to anyone, probably in two languages. And in addition to all that, turns out you’re an amazing fuck!”

I laughed, even though I didn’t want to. “Thanks.”

“You are destined to do big things, and Fiona Duff is going to kick herself for not getting you in her magazine when she could.”

“I wish I hadn’t told my mother about Fiona Duff. She already called me this morning wanting to know how the tasting went.”

“It went fucking great! You sold a ton of wine and everyone there raved about the bottles you brought. Your parents are in France because they trust you, as they should, to be the face and voice of Abelard Vineyards while they’re away. It’s like they left their baby in your hands.”

“I guess.” I yawned again, suddenly exhausted. “Why am I so tired?”

“We were up all night.”

“Oh yeah.” A tiny smile tugged at my lips.

He moved a little closer to me and draped an arm over my waist. It felt so good I let him leave it there as I dozed off.





ELEVEN





GIANNI





I woke up with my arm still around Ellie, who’d rolled over to face the wall. I was surprised by how nice it felt to hold on to her while we slept. In fact, my first instinct upon waking was to pull her even closer, my body curled tightly behind hers like two spoons in a drawer.

But as soon as I realized what I was doing, I took my arm off her and rolled onto my back. She’d probably get irritated if she woke up to unauthorized cuddling. Besides, being that close to her was giving my dick ideas that I definitely couldn’t follow through with. Not only were we out of condoms, but our hall pass had expired. No way was Ellie going to agree to any more sex.

Exhaling, I stared at the knotty pine ceiling of our room and faced the fact that I should probably go pretend the car suddenly started and get her home. She’d forgiven me for last night and told me she understood about leaving Etoile. What more could I ask for?

With one last reluctant glance at the curve of her hip and her dark, wavy hair on the pillow, I got out of bed, grabbed my keys, and shrugged into my coat. Opening the door just enough to slip out, I quietly closed it behind me and slogged through the snow to my car, which was buried again. When I pulled open the driver’s side door, at least four inches of snow blew into the front seat. Cursing, I brushed as much of it out as I could and slid behind the wheel.

But I didn’t push start.

Instead, I sat there looking at the door to room thirteen, thinking about the woman on the bed inside, and the night we’d just spent together. There wasn’t a thing about it I would change, and my only regret was that it would never happen again.

Unless . . .

I frowned. No, I couldn’t. That was too mean, too duplicitous, even for me. If she ever found out I’d kept her here against her will for a whole extra night, she’d never forgive me.

But she would never have to know, said an evil, horny little voice in my head. And you’d give her lots and lots of delicious orgasms. You could make dinner for her too—just walk over to the gas station and grab a few groceries. She deserves a night that’s just about her. You could make her feel so fucking good.

I caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. No. It was wrong.

Despicable, even. We’d just reached a place that felt like friendship—we’d confided in each other. We’d aired the grievances. We’d made peace with the past and with what happened last night.

Mmm, what happened last night.

Suddenly I had a visceral memory of her naked body beneath me, of her hands in my hair, of the way she moved and kissed and tasted. I recalled how she told me to slow down, how she swiveled her hips over mine, how her orgasm had wrung every last drop from me as her pussy clenched my cock again and again.

Jesus—I opened my eyes and realized I was breathing heavily, and my dick had grown hard. I grimaced and gripped the steering wheel. If we stayed another night, could I possibly get her back in the mood?

I looked out the windows. The snowfall hadn’t abated, and the roads would still be terrible, making the drive unsafe. I took out my phone and checked the radar—the storm wouldn’t let up until early tomorrow morning, and it was three o’clock already.