Wine, Tarts & Sex

His smile suddenly flashed white in the moonlight. “Glad to hear it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I like feeling this way.”

His smile this time was sexy and sweet; they were both on the same crazy wavelength. “Maybe I could make you feel better,” he said soft and low.

She gazed up at him from under her lashes. “No doubt.”

He grinned. “I’ll have you know I broke all the speed limits getting here.”

“So I should stop equivocating.”

He held her gaze. “I didn’t know you were.”

“But then you don’t know much about me.”

“How about I’m willing to learn.”

“You’re way too smooth.”

He shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve never raced to see a woman in the middle of the night.”

“So I’m not the only one losing it.”

“Hell, no. I’ve been trying not to call you since I woke up”-he glanced at his watch-“five hours ago. Unsuccessfully, as you can see.”

She smiled for the first time since his arrival. “We have to be quiet with Janie and Matt in the house.”

He grinned. “I’m not the one who screams when they come.”

“Very funny.”

“Look-they won’t even know I’m here.” He took her hand in his. “Show me your bedroom.”

“I thought you might have been calling to talk to Janie,” she noted as he held the door open for her.

“I told you I wasn’t interested in Janie.”

“I know.”

“I meant it.”

“I’m glad.”

Then she put her finger to her lips as they approached the stairs, and they didn’t speak again until she shut her bedroom door behind them.

“Nice,” he said, indicating her room with a wave of his hand. “Everything in one place.”

She had a small office in one corner: desk, computer, file cabinet, bulletin board with wine brochures and catalogues tacked up. Under the farmhouse eaves, she’d had bookshelves built, crowded now with to-read possibilities. A row of blooming white gloxinia lined the top of the shelves. Embroidered white-on-white linen curtains were open, the windows raised high to let in the warm night air.

And then there was her bed.

She’d found it in an antique store shortly after she’d bought her place. She hadn’t been looking for a bed. She’d already bought a serviceable one that would do just fine. In fact, the only reason she’d gone into the store along the highway in Wisconsin was because the sign outside had heralded Lavazza espresso. Now, she wasn’t into psychic events, but seeing that bed smack-dab in the middle of the store when she walked in qualified as a bona fide mystical experience. She’d immediately fallen in love with it. The enormous size and flamboyant scrollwork of twined branches and delicate leaves reminded her of some whimsical fantasy.

She’d asked the price and, thinking she must have heard wrong, asked again.

The owner explained that it had been part of a stage set for Sarah Bernhardt on one of her American tours, so the price was partially predicated on the celebrity factor. “Try it out,” the store owner had pleasantly offered, as if the lady had known the supernatural was seriously at work in her store that day.

When Liv had lain on the bed, she’d felt as though the bed had been made for her or she for it-a feeling of inexplicable comfort and joy had melted through her senses. Not that she didn’t remind herself that she already had a bed and she had better places to spend her money. Like on her vineyard.

But it’s so you, a little voice inside her head had cooed. And doesn’t it make you feel incredibly, outrageously good?

Liv’s stop for espresso had ended up costing her ten thousand dollars.

“That’s one big bed,” Jake said. “It must have come up in pieces.”

Wasn’t that just like a man. Nothing about its sculptural beauty or antique patina. “Actually, I had the windows taken out and had it hoisted in.”

“It’s old, right?”

“Yes.” No point in mentioning the divine Sarah, she figured when he was talking practicalities.

“It suits you. All sumptuous swank. And I can actually stretch out. Not that I’m tired,” he said with a small smile.

She smiled back. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

“Rest easy, babe. I am so primed.”

A small silence fell.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to raise alarms.”

“No, you didn’t. Look.” She held up her hand so he could see the tremor. “I might be past you when it comes to being primed.”

Curling his hand around hers, he brought it to his mouth and brushed a gentle kiss over her knuckles. “Everything’s on your terms, babe,” he murmured, his dark gaze direct. “Tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, remembering the rapturous feel of him, the hard-ramming size, his wanting what she wanted as often as she. “And thanks for coming up.”

He lifted his shoulder in the merest shrug. “I couldn’t stay away,” he said gruffly.

“You would have liked to, though.”

Another shrug. “Not really.”

Her brows rose. “I’ve never had such reluctant sex before. ”

The wariness left his eyes, replaced by a more familiar amusement. “Wrong word, babe. This is about insatiable. That’s what’s bothering me.”

“So don’t let it.”

He grinned. “You mean-as long as I’m here.”

“And I couldn’t sleep.”

“Not to mention my cock had a mind of its own.”

“There you go. Obviously, we have no choice.”

He gave her a quick, decisive nod.

Something about his sudden certainty and assurance sent a little shiver up her spine. Or maybe it was him suddenly dragging her against his body and the hard imprint of his erection that inspired her response. Not that she needed evidence of his carnal urgency to goad her. She’d gone sleepless the last many hours thinking about him.

Thinking about sex with him.

Thinking about feeling this inside her. Rubbing against his cock, back and forth, back and forth, she purred in anticipation.

Her message came through loud and clear-as if he didn’t know what she liked and how she liked it. Moving backward the few steps to the bed, he sank down, pulling her with him. Sprawled on his back, he settled her astride his hips with a casual strength, shoved her skirt aside, slid his hand between her legs, and glanced up with a smile. “Convenient,” he murmured, running his fingers over her slick pussy hospitably devoid of panties. “No waiting.”

“Plan ahead,” she said on a suffocated breath, his virtuoso touch ramping up every sexual receptor in the immediate vicinity.

He grinned. “Because you can never wait.”

“Give me a break,” she said, spurred on by sharply necessitous, totally wanton urges. “I’ve been thinking about this… a lot.”

“Same here.” His gaze flicked downward to his erection stretching waist-high.

“Perfect then,” she said with soft finality and, taking matters into her own hands, reached out and unzipped his jeans. High-strung, impatient-really pretty much like she always seemed to be with Jake Chambers-she drew out his engorged penis, the swollen gleaming crest and hard, unyielding length sending a rush of liquid longing through her cunt. Perhaps having been forced to wait so long, or maybe simply driven by outrageous lust, without thought for her most basic rule, she forced his stiff cock upright, positioned her throbbing ready-to-party sex over the head of