by Jules Wake
The kiss ignited an immediate explosion and things went from playful to passionate in seconds. Inhibition and worry vanished. Pure feeling took charge, as all the pent-up longing of the last interminable months reached fever pitch. Incandescent with need, Lisa pushed her hips against him. With a groan, Will shifted again, making her conscious of the whole length of his sinewy body. Tingles ran in ripples, coalescing into little explosions of joy each time they bumped a knee, a thigh, a hip.
‘Lisa.’ His husky voice at her ear, wound her up even tighter. Dazed, she stared at him, the blue eyes cloudy with desire, and pulled his mouth back to hers, her eyelids fluttering shut because it was too much. An overload of the senses. ‘Tell me if this isn’t what you want.’
The serious raw note in his voice turned her insides to liquid. She took in a breath, feeling as if she were on the top of the high diving board.
The simple statement made her heart stall. She wavered for a second. What if she took the step and it went wrong again? Could her heart survive?
Then she looked up into his face, gripped by the intensity of his gaze as he waited. Sometimes you just had to dive in and take the fall, but the rush as you did was worth it.
‘I want this.’ Her words whispered on the air and his hold on her softened. Relief?
It eased those tentative fears, but she added with a punchy glare at him. ‘But, if you don’t call me this time, I will kill you.’
She expected him to make some jokey response, but something inside her shivered when Will cupped her face with both hands. The solemn expression almost turned her inside out. A silent question hovered there. Do we do this? As if both of them knew there was no turning back.
She kissed him. Not a fervent, fevered kiss but a considered, heartfelt slide of her lips over his, a haunting yes in the touch of her mouth. No question about the answer.
With a pained sigh of regret, he pulled back.
‘We have a date at the winery.’ He touched her face, tracing her chin and down her neck. ‘And then the rest of the night … and the week is ours.’ It sounded like a lovely promise and her senses leapt in anticipation.
‘It is.’
The tasting room was as cool and shady as a cave and a complete contrast to the burning heat outside. A bell clanged as they closed the door behind them, the glass panes so old and brittle Lisa worried they might shatter. The whitewashed walls were covered in paintings, which were startlingly contemporary in such a medieval setting.
Through one arch she could see oak barrels lined up, plugged with huge corks stained with red wine, like vibrant lipstick. Through a second arch, the scene was a modern contrast, where huge metal cages of dark-green bottles were being clinked and clunked across the tiled floor to a waiting delivery van. Romance and business hard at work together.
A middle-aged couple were already mid-way through a tasting at the high counter to the right of the room, where a series of opened bottles ranged, reds, whites and even a lonely rosé.
The attractive forty-something woman behind the counter poured the other couple a glass of velvety red, holding the glass up to the light and swirling, before indicating something in the glass with long elegant fingers.
Will strolled forward and took a bottle in his hands, examining the front and back labels before perusing the back one with a thoughtful frown and then moving onto the next. She watched him completely at home in the situation. A slight blush stained her cheeks as she thought of those hands recently roving over her body. She gulped. Anticipation hummed at the thought of what might happen later. Even now, after those kisses, parts of her tingled. He was thorough, she gave him that.
When the other couple’s noses were buried in their glasses, the woman turned.
‘Buon giorno, Signor Ryan?’
‘Yes,’ said Will.
‘Welcome to Casa Felloni.’ Her overt gaze suggested she’d like to eat Will up in several slow, seductive bites.
It didn’t faze him, he simply grinned back and then snaked out an arm and pulled her forward. ‘This is Lisa.’
To her credit, the woman’s smile didn’t dim by so much as a kilowatt. She welcomed Lisa with the same easy manner and began to explain the wines.
Lisa was happy to listen to the quick melody of her heavily accented English. Most of it flowed over her, with only the odd words and phrases registering.
She poured an inch of pale white wine into a tall tulip glass.
Lisa had no idea what she was supposed to do. Will twisted his glass this way and that, gently circling the contents before holding it up to the light like a pro. Then he came to stand behind her.
He put his arm around her, his hand over hers, guiding her fingers down to hold the stem of the glass. ‘Hold it here, then your hands don’t heat up the glass and the wine inside.’ His chin almost rested on her shoulder and she could feel his breath on her neck as he added. ‘When it comes to holding things, technique is very important.’
‘What about the swirling?’ Lisa turned her head. ‘I wouldn’t want to get that wrong.’
‘Ouch, no.’ He gave her a rueful smile, although his eyes danced wickedly. ‘Like this.’ With very slow moves he tilted the glass, his body leaning in and touching hers, replicating the movement of the wine in the glass.
‘I-I think I’ve got that.’ It took a second for her to frame her next words. Her brain had turned to mush, again. ‘Why do you do that?’
‘Officially, it helps to release the flavours of the wine. You’re getting lots of oxygen in there.’ He stopped, holding the glass and her hand perfectly still. ‘But I think it’s all part of the preamble. The build-up, step by step, to something wonderful.’
Lisa swallowed.
‘And each step needs to be taken slowly, slowly, to get it exactly right.’ His voice deepened, sending a ripple of awareness through her.
‘Then you hold it up to the light to see its colour and see if there’s any cloudiness or any impurities in it. Also, see the wine sliding down the inside of the glass.’
He pointed to liquid tracings like an aqueduct arcing around the glass, something she wouldn’t have paid any attention to.
‘They’re legs.’ He shot a quick wicked glance her way. ‘Some are wider apart than others. The distance between them tells you a bit about the alcoholic strength of the wine. These aren’t too wide apart, an indication of a lower alcohol content.’
He held the glass high, their arms mirroring each other, his cheek so close to hers she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or could feel the slight touch. Although all his attention appeared to be focused on the wine glass, his body seemed to be perfectly in tune with hers, his thighs touching the backs of her legs and his left arm wrapped around her waist.
‘Even before you taste it, you’re getting a strong sense of the essence of the wine. Weighing it up.
‘Now you take a good deep sniff, put your nose right into the top of the glass.’
He guided the glass towards her. She inhaled through her nose. And couldn’t smell anything but wine.
‘What do you smell?’
Lisa wrinkled her forehead. ‘Wine.’
‘Okay,’ he leaned in and sniffed at her glass, all the while holding her in the circle of his arm, pulling her body back against his.
‘What does the smell make you think of?’
‘Grass,’ said Lisa immediately. The wine made her think of a day when you stand on the lawn and the grass has been freshly cut.
‘Perfect,’ Will squeezed her.
‘But that’s not a real flavour.’
‘Yes. You can describe it any way you want. There tend to be recurring descriptions. It’s your senses, your description. Wine is to be enjoyed. Shared.’
‘Not,’ she said with a touch of cynicism, ‘this is an exceptional bouquet bursting with fruit flavours typical of this variety.’
‘Works for some people, but not for me.’ His voice dropped. ‘I know what I like and it doesn’t have to be dressed up.’
And then he added, ‘In fact I prefer it naked.’
She shivered.
‘Now to the crunch point. The important part. The bit you’ve been building up to.’ He winked, the hand at her waist having found its way under her t-shirt, his thumb making tiny circles on her skin. ‘You can dive right in and make it quick and dirty, which is absolutely fine or you can take it slow and easy, savouring the flavour and the moment.’
Lisa shifted her weight slightly.
‘I prefer to take it slowly, savouring every minute of that very first mouthful.’ He dipped his head and took a good glug of her wine, swilling it around his mouth. ‘After all, why hurry a good thing? You’ve got all the time in the world.’ His half-lidded appraisal of her held smoky promise, making her rather hot. She was suddenly very aware of certain parts of her body, which were sitting up and taking a lot of notice.
‘Take a good big sip, whirl it around you mouth and suck in a little bit of air. As you do that you feel the texture change, become more oily, silky.’
Doing as she was told, she was amazed to realise he was right. Suddenly the wine changed in her mouth, almost opening up and she could feel the difference on her tongue. She turned to face Will. ‘Wow. I see what you mean.’
He tilted the glass towards himself and took another sip, lifting his head. She watched the strong column of his throat working as he swallowed, fighting the sudden urge to run her lips along his jawline and throat.
‘Now, what can you taste?’
She thought hard. She knew what she wanted to taste. ‘Nope, still wine. Although I’d say it’s light and dry, not floral and not fruity.’
‘And that’s all valid. I’d say it’s herbaceous, grassy. Clean.’
She took another sip. ‘Well,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I can see what you mean, but I don’t think I’d have got that as a taste without you telling me.’
And then he grinned at her, ‘but I do have the advantage of knowing it’s a Frascati and they are all distinct characteristics of that type of wine.’
‘You! I know nothing about wine. That’s not fair. And it’s cheating.’ She pushed at him.
‘It’s very rare, unless you’re a professional wine-taster or seriously into wine, that you’d ever do a blind wine-tasting. I don’t enjoy them at all. Too much like a one-night stand. A burst of pleasure, without any of the seduction.’
Will stared at her over the rim of the glass. ‘For me, the real satisfaction is that slow build-up. The anticipation. That moment when you know you’re about to sample a wine you’ll love and you’ve wanted to try for ages.’
He tipped the rest of the Frascati away.
‘And as you work along the wines, the sense of anticipation builds as each wine gets stronger, more full-bodied and richer in flavours, as you move from white to red.’
By the time they reached the red wine, Lisa’s hormones had tied themselves in knots, like eager children tripping over their own feet in haste.
In fact, she was like one of her children in the nursery when they had ants in their pants, couldn’t settle to anything but didn’t know what had put the wind up them. Except Lisa knew what had stirred her up and that Will knew exactly what he was doing.
Well, he wasn’t going to have the upper hand for too long.
Tasting a little of the red wine, she deliberately let a tiny bit slip down her chin and then scooped it up with one finger and poked the very tip of her tongue out to lick it up, stoically ignoring the self-conscious tremor of her hand, hoping to turn the tables and disconcert him for once.
Unfortunately, that plan backfired spectacularly. Before she could taste the wine on her finger, he’d grasped her wrist and pulled her hand to his mouth. With laughing eyes, his tongue touched her skin with a light flick that immediately sent sizzles dancing southwards. A gasp escaped at the electric fizz that set light to her whole body.
Feeling the blush suffuse across her chest, she turned away. Two more wines to get through. She eyed both bottles and caught Will looking at her with fierce intensity. She clenched her jaw.
How would she get through them if Will kept this up?
Weak-kneed and restless, she wanted him to kiss her. To kiss him. Wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, drag his mouth down to hers.
Heat burned between her legs. Longing. Impatience.
Without meaning to, she knocked back the rest of her glass.
‘I think I’ve probably had enough,’ she said faintly, putting her glass down.
Will poured the rest of his glass away, his gaze never leaving her face. She could feel her cheeks burning and a flush race up her throat.
‘Do you want to leave?’ he asked, his voice full of a different question.
‘Er … um, No. You finish.’ She nodded towards the two final bottles.
That wicked smile ramped up. ‘We can share.’
He helped himself to the next glass, the woman behind the counter thankfully having faded into the background. Lord knows what she thought.
Will went through the same ritual. Lisa’s breath felt tight in her chest, unable to drag her attention from him.
Long slender fingers circled the glass stem, as he held the ruby-red wine up to the light. She tried hard not to look at them. Tried hard not to remember their touch all those months ago, but it was impossible. With an inward breath, tension gripped her, as she fought hopelessly against the memory. Those lazy circles his fingers had painted on her stomach, the slow stroke down her breast bone, the delicious diversions where he’d traced the underside of her breasts before teasing the tight, puckered desperate-to-be-touched skin around her nipples. Her mouth dried. When Will offered the glass to her she almost grabbed it from him. The warm mouthful of wine with its full body and rich flavours filled her mouth. She savoured every drop. All her senses attuned. Her skin goose-bumped. Her ears picked out the chink of glass and low conversation in the distance, but she could only hear Will’s breath, a slight rasp as he inhaled. Heat radiated, spiralling through her body, and she could almost feel it pulsing, vein by vein, down her arms, legs. Her heart bumped loudly. And she could smell wine and the scent of the man standing so close to her that she could feel the hairs on his forearm brushing against her skin.
It took a minute to focus. Disorientated she’d blinked, the room now much brighter. Will, in a blur of movement, grabbed leaflets and then her hand so quickly she almost missed the counter as she put down the wine glass when he pulled her out of the building.
Half running, half walking they made it back to the car, where Will pinned her up against the door, his lips ravaging over hers, with thorough precision.
‘Back to the palazzo,’ he growled.
All she could do was nod limply.
Chapter 22
They’d bolted out of the winery, seat belts tangled in their haste to get back to the villa and the short car journey did little to sober them. Will’s hand took hers between gear changes, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin on her wrist, keeping her pulse rate at a steady gallop. Both of them were primed like racehorses, reined in by the starting gate. When the car pulled up, the gravel shearing under the wheels as he braked hard, Will shot her such a heated, passion-filled look that it sent a starburst directly south.
Her mouth had gone dry and her hand shook slightly as she tried to open the car door.
As soon as they stepped out of the car, Dorothea came rushing down the stone stairs, looking flustered and almost panicky.
‘Darlings. There you are.’ She swallowed hard and looked behind her. Lisa tracked her gaze and saw her and Will’s overnight bags tucked into the shadow of the olive tree at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Terribly bad news, I’m afraid.’ Her eyes were bright and kept darting about like swallows in flight, almost as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at either one of them. ‘The electricity. Gone. Packed up. Power cut. Happens a lot. You know Italy. It could be hours before it’s back on. Sometimes days. I’m terribly sorry. Charles and I, we
’ll stay with friends. But it would be best if you went back to Rome this evening. It would be miserable here. No food. No light. I’ve sent Anunzia home. You can’t possibly stay here. If you leave now, you can be back in Rome in time for dinner.’
There was an embarrassed silence as Dorothea ground to a halt, twisting her plump hands together. Lisa focused on the flashy rings, the metal bands crimping the doughy flesh, her agitated movements making the stones sparkle in the sunlight.
‘Don’t worry. That’s fine. We don’t want to put you to any trouble.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s just … Well, it would be much easier. Yes, better.’
Will patted her on the arm. ‘It’s not a problem.’
‘Right, well.’ Dorothea stepped back, sweeping her arm behind her to where their bags sat. ‘Obviously, Charles and I are about to go, and we’d like to lock up the house.’
‘Right. Of course.’ Taking his cue with admirable calm, Will scooped up the two bags. ‘Thanks for having … for lunch. Tell Charles thanks also for the introduction at the winery.’
‘Yes, I will.’ She backed up a few steps. ‘Well. Have a safe journey. Lovely to see you. Nice to meet you … erm, Lisa.’
Dorothea backed up a few steps, as if desperate to put some distance between them. It was almost if they’d developed the plague.
They didn’t say a word to each other as the car pulled away, with Dorothea waving from the doorway of the villa. Will stopped at the entrance between the two lion-topped pillars and tweaked the angle of his rear-view mirror, giving a narrow-eyed stare into it for a few seconds before readjusting it again.
They drove in silence until they were out of sight of the house.
‘Interesting,’ he said.
‘What was all that about?’ Never in her life had she been faced with such a situation. Although Dorothea hadn’t been outwardly rude, it had been thoroughly uncomfortable. Doubly so for Lisa as she hadn’t been invited in the first place.
‘I haven’t got a clue. The fountain still works, though.’
