Brave Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #3)(17)

There’s no question that she’s on board with this. It’s foreign to her, I suspect, but maybe that’s why it works. She can be whoever the hell she wants to be while she’s here with me. And I’m happy to let her. If we met under different circumstances, I get the feeling she wouldn’t be nearly as friendly and amenable to spending time with me. Or if she were, her family wouldn’t be. I know all about them. They’re a big problem for me, in ways they don’t even realize. But I didn’t know all about her. At least not like I’m getting ready to. I’ll know her inside and out, what she likes and what she loves before this day is done.

And it can’t get done fast enough.





NINE


Weatherly

Before we could enjoy the rest of our trip and the picnic he’d packed, Tag got called away for some business he had to tend to down in Enchantment. I tried to hide my disappointment, but he saw it anyway. He threaded his fingers into my hair and held me still, his eyes pouring down into mine like a mercury spill. “If I didn’t have to tend to this, I wouldn’t leave you. I’d like nothing more than to spend all day kissing you. These lips . . . Jesus!”

He kissed me, making his desire for me clear, but it was his eyes that told me that he, too, was as disappointed as I was. When he released me, he backed away, his eyes on mine, his lips slightly curved. He only made it a few steps before he stepped forward to kiss me again, that time with more heat. But then he did leave, promising to find me when he got back. That was hours ago.

I thought Tag’s business was Chiara, but considering the turmoil my family’s holdings have been in during recent months, maybe he’s been smart enough to make other investments along the way. Although charming to a fault, I get the impression that Tag is a shrewd businessman. His plans for Chiara, a vineyard that he has no control over, is a testament to his passion for the land, but also his head for growth and development.

The knock at my door is hushed, but I hear it instantly. Part of me has been resisting sleep, waiting, hoping Tag would come to me. I know it’s insane—and slutty and irresponsible—to want to sleep with a guy that I hardly know and just met, but I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think at all. I want to feel. Just feel. For once, I want to do something that’s only for me. No one else. I want to do something that’s completely spontaneous, totally irresponsible and entirely questionable in every possible way. My mother would be shocked. My father would be angry. But for once, I want to consider only myself, what I want, what makes me happy.

Before I can call out in answer, the door creaks open and Tag slips in. He is shirtless, wearing only low-hanging jeans and nothing else. Not even shoes. As he walks, his abs clench, the stair-steps drawing my eyes down his belly to the dramatic cuts of muscle that disappear in a V into his waistband.

I sit up as he approaches. He doesn’t say a word, just reaches for my hand. I curl my willing fingers around his and let him pull me from the warmth of my bed. My heart is hammering beneath my breastbone and desire is coiling inside my stomach. The time is at hand, the moment has arrived. It’s do or die with this man I’ve known for a day and can’t stop thinking about. Am I going to go down this road with him? Am I going to jump without weighing the risk? Without being able to predict the outcome?

I can feel in my bones that this is my last chance to change my mind. Something is going to happen tonight, and if I don’t stop now, there will be no stopping later.

When Tag tugs on my hand, urging me to follow him back to the door, my feet know the answer before my mind does. They follow him without thought, without qualm. Without caution. And just like that, my decision is made. I’m going. And I’m not looking back.

Tag leads me silently through the house, down the stairs and through the kitchen to the back door, holding open the screen until I pass through. It hisses slowly shut behind me as we step out into the night.

A soft, warm rain is falling, but I barely feel it. Every nerve, every sense, every thought is focused squarely on the man in front of me, leading me. To where, I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.

We walk across the yard, the wet grass teasing my toes and tickling my ankles. Tag’s hand is warm and solid around mine, his smile reassuring when he glances back at me. His face is shadowed in the pale moonlight, giving him an air of mystery that he doesn’t need. He’s already mysterious. Enigmatic in the way he has captured my interest so completely, so effortlessly.

The grass changes to smooth dirt as we pass into the first row of grapevines. My captor pulls me gently along until we are four rows deep, an island in the darkness of the night, and then he stops and turns to face me.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, his voice as velvety as the onyx sky above.

I obey without question, my breath coming in quick, anxious bursts.

“Now, take a slow, deep breath,” he instructs. And so I do.

That’s when I smell it.

It’s sweetly aromatic with just a hint of sin drifting around the edges. The grapes scent the air with a fruity musk that is as delicious as it is sexy.

“They only smell this way when it rains at night. I don’t know why, but it’s like they come alive in the dark. In the warm, wet dark.”

When I open my eyes to find Tag’s stormy silver ones, the perfume roots in my chest. It grows there as though the bud of everything that is between us—the sweet, the sexy, the forbidden—is blossoming like a rose in the sunshine. Spreading its petals within me. Driving its thorns into me. Holding me. Trapping me.