by Emma Tharp
“He is in a better place,” I say.
Dean finishes the last bite of his dinner and sets the plate on the coffee table. He positions me so my legs are straight out across the couch. He sits at the opposite end and takes my feet inhis hands. He knows exactly what I like.
When he presses on the center of my arch, I let out a low moan. "That feels so good. I think you missed your calling as a massage therapist."
He laughs and continues applying the perfect amount of pressure to relieve the tension in my feet. “I’ll be your personal massage therapist.” It isn't long before his massage works up my legs, kneading the muscles that get sore from wearing heels all day. His hands move up further, gentle now. Dean uses his fingertips to glide along the outside of my thighs. He looks up into my eyes and his are full of heat and longing. He presses soft kisses along the inside of my knees and painfully slowly works his way up. I love when he's gentle with me, but it makes me wild when he loses control. When I moan in pleasure, I see the switch flip and I know we won’t be doing much sleeping tonight.
Six
Dean
Rolling over and wiping the sleep from my eyes, I peer at the alarm clock. Ten a.m. It's much later than I normally sleep, but this is vacation. And I don't normally spend half the night awake, but every moment spent with Giselle is worth it.
The sheets are cool next to me. She must have woken up a while ago. I get up to use the restroom and when I return, Giselle is sitting on the edge of the bed looking absolutely gorgeous with sleep-mussed hair and two cups of coffee in her hands. "Good morning," she says.
"Good morning." I stroll over to her and she hands me a mug. Taking a sip, I'm suddenly impressed. "Babe, you remembered." It's black with lots of sugar. It's hard not to gush because to me it’s all about the little things in life.
She beams with a smile from ear to ear. Damn, I want to see that smile every day. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and I can feel the time ticking away too quickly.
Women don't normally make me nervous, but as I sit on the bed and stare at Giselle, I'm determined not to let my nerves screw this whole week up. "So, do you still want to go to the winery today?" I glance outside of the massive windows in the master bedroom. The sky is blue with a few puffs of white clouds, the sun is shining bright. "If we go early enough, we can avoid the heat of the day and be back for swimming, boating, and working on our tans."
She nods. "Definitely." She smiles at me over the rim of her mug. "I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to sharing these experiences with you."
I set my coffee down and pull her close. "I've been waiting all year for this. I think I understand." I don’t tell her about the blind date I went on last month that was so bad because all I could think about was her. Or the woman who was hitting on me most of the winter at the mountain. She barely even skied. I starting thinking she’d just come up to hang out in the lodge and wait for my shift to end. She threw herself at me relentlessly, but I turned her down over and over because she couldn’t compare to Giselle in my eyes.
And I don’t want to risk getting gushy too early in the trip, so I decide that we should probably focus. "Want me to make breakfast while you shower?"
She shakes her head.
"Okay, do you want to make breakfast while I shower?" I ask.
She shakes her head again. "I have chocolate croissants proofing in the oven. We have some time to kill before we can eat." She raises her eyebrows and I would never deny her.
This is my week with her and we’ve always been insatiable. That's not going to change now.
I take her coffee from her hand and set it next to mine on the nightstand. Then, I ease her down onto the bed and untie her robe. Shaking my head, I still can't get over how gorgeous she is naked. And she's here with me. "You're so beautiful, Giselle."
"You're not so bad yourself." She gives me a devilish grin.
Tugging my boxer briefs down, I toss them on the floor. Then I roll on top of her, and lay my body flush against hers. I press my forehead to hers and gaze into her eyes. It's hard not to get lost in them—it’s the way she looks at me, with such admiration and appreciation and lust. When I'm with her it feels like she needs me. Although outside of this week, I know she doesn't need anyone. And I don't need her to need me—I want her to want me.
I kiss her, hard on the mouth, and claim what is mine for the week.
In a flash of movement, Giselle nudges me over and I flip onto my back, dragging her on top of me. I love the weight of her body on me and the feel of her soft smooth skin next to mine. She plunges herself onto my length and moans as she sits up and arches her back. I reach up and grab her breasts and fondle her nipples. They fit so perfectly in my hands. Everything about her just fits with me. It’s never been like this with any other woman.
Rotating her hips, she grinds on me. I take her ass in my hands and guide her up and down. She clutches my chest and increases her speed.
She crashes her mouth onto mine and her tongue delves in and out. My hands start moving everywhere. I can’t get enough of the feel of her under my fingertips.
I’m pushing my pelvis up as she presses down. We’re completely in sync. When Giselle's teeth bite down on her bottom lip, I can tell she's close. Reaching down, I play with her clit with my thumb. Her legs tighten around me right before she spasms with an orgasm.
Racing toward the edge with her, I clutch her hips tightly and glide in for a few more strokes. I’m deep inside her when I let go.
She collapses onto my chest, breathing heavily. She has to hear my heart hammering in her ear.
When my breathing slows and I finally feel like I can speak, I say, "How about a shower?"
She looks up at me, her eyes soft, and her body languid against mine. "Let's do it."
This woman. She's become the one I measure all others against. Shockingly enough, no one else can ever compare. Giselle is smart, funny, driven, and beautiful. The full package. If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to figure out a way to make her want this, want us for more than one week a year.
Seven
Giselle
“Everything is going great. How’s everything in the city?” I ask Karen. My pillow is damp from my freshly washed hair, but I can’t be bothered to move as I lie back and watch Dean walk out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his hips.
“All is well here. I just wanted to check in on you. Make sure your mystery man is being good to you,” she says. I was surprised to see her calling this morning. She doesn’t usually when I’m away. And in an effort to be a better friend, I picked up.
“Oh, yes. He is,” I tell her, biting my lip as I watch Dean drop the towel and get dressed. Damn, this man is a thing of beauty. His occupation, as well as all the adventurous activities he likes to do, keeps him lean and muscular. I like a guy who doesn't need to spend all day at the gym to stay in shape. His physique is one hundred percent natural. I wish I could say the same. These days, with my schedule, and as sedentary as my job is, I've had to start working out at the gym. Luckily, we have one in the office building. I'm all about convenience. Dean is yet another convenience in my life. It’s probably why I haven't been dating. I don't need to when I have him to fulfill all my fantasies one week a year. And I don't need to deal with games or power plays. This is simple. Neat. I couldn't be happier. Dean drops a kiss on my cheek before strolling out of the room.
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. Oh, and an email went out from Ted. It’s nothing really. He announced that there’s a meeting on Monday morning.”
A meeting? About what? The muscles between my shoulder blades that were completely loose just moments ago stiffen. “I haven’t checked my emails. Does it say what it’s about?”
“Oh, no. I can hear your wheels turning already. You can relax. Remember we’re thinking of a new policy on intake forms? It’s going to be about that. Nothing you need to worry about.”
Why did I pick up the phone? I love Karen, b
ut she should’ve known not to bring up work. This is my only week off. At least the email doesn’t contain anything I need to be stressed about. “Okay. Well, thanks for the update. I’m going to go make breakfast. I’ll see you when I get back,” I tell her.
“Sounds good. Enjoy,” Karen says before she hangs up.
I grab my phone and do a quick email check. Thankfully, there’s nothing there that concerns me. And by the time I'm dressed and pull my hair up into a wet ponytail, Dean’s already started the oven and topped off my mug. I take a sip and mimic his earlier reaction. "Wow, baby, you remembered." I grin, hoping he'll get the joke.
His teal eyes stare into mine as he saunters over to me, pinning me against the counter with his body. "I remember everything about you. Always," he replies in a serious tone.
It's pretty hard to believe. I mean, we’re not together that often. How could his memory be that good about the little things, the small details? I decide to prove my point. "Really? What about the sushi in Beverly Hills?" I had placed a particularly challenging order.
He licks his lips and grins. "Keto-friendly sushi, no rice. Everything was made with cucumber instead. No nori." He bows and waits for me to compliment his memory.
"That was an easy one. My protein shake in Orlando."
"Extra strawberry, easy on the banana, add extra protein powder. Vanilla flavored." He sticks out his tongue. "Next."
I'm starting to get flustered. "The cruise. How did I take my Corona?"
He looks down at the floor and laughs quietly. "You didn't. You thought you were being sneaky and passed it to the woman you were with and drank something out of a souvenir glass instead. The guy at the end of the bar was pretty upset."
My jaw drops. He does. He really remembers everything. And I should be happy, or honored, or giddy, but instead I’m freaked out. When was the last time a guy paid that much attention to me, or my quirks, and embraced them?
The buzzer on the oven sounds. Saved by the bell. I need a distraction. Walking over, I put the oven mitts on and pull out the croissants. There are four. He walks up next to me. "Two each."
I shake my head. "I'm cutting back."
He presses his lips to my forehead. "You'll say that. And you'll eat your first one. I’ll devour both of mine. And then you’ll stare longingly at the one you said I could have. I'll offer to give it to you and you’ll suggest we split it. Let's save some time. We have wine to pick out."
I tilt my head. Who is this man? And why am I just noticing? Or maybe this is simply what happens after all these years. This…is the longest I've ever had any kind of relationship with any man.
To prove him wrong, I only eat one croissant even though he is right and I would love half of the other. He has two and we finish getting ready to leave.
We drive to the winery and take my car. "This drives so smooth. I feel like such a stud in it," he jokes.
"You are a stud." I smile as I study him. He's perfect in so many ways, but in the back of my mind I know that his occupation makes anything more than what we are already completely impossible. It sounds like I’m judging him, but I need someone I can rely on, someone who could truly be my partner, not someone who would need me to be his sugar mama. My dad taught me and my brothers to work hard. He wanted us to be financially secure. I can’t imagine supporting anyone else.
Why am I even worrying about this? It's not like it's an issue. Only…maybe it is.
How can we possibly keep this up? There’s no way we could. He’s in Vermont living his life, and I’m in New York living mine. I have to stop with these thoughts and enjoy every moment I have with Dean. It goes by too quick.
We pull up to the winery, and he walks around to help me out of the car. Damn, it is nice. And so is he.
"Wine time," he murmurs before he presses his lips to mine. I can't imagine finding anything here more intoxicating than his kiss.
Eight
Dean
“Can you taste black cherry in this one?” Giselle asks, swirling the glass around.
“Not really, but I like it.” I swallow the rest of the sample, attempting to detect any type of fruit. Still nothing.
“Give this one a try,” the winery employee says as she pours a different, slightly darker red wine into my glass. “This one will taste spicier with a peppery note at the end.” She pours some into Giselle’s glass and accidentally bumps the edge, spilling the purple wine down the front of Giselle’s floral sundress. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry!” Her face reddens to almost the color of the wine.
“It’s okay. No problem,” Giselle says. “Could I borrow a cloth?”
The embarrassed employee douses a cloth napkin with club soda and hands it to Giselle.
She is calm as she tries to blot out the stain. “See, you can barely see it. No big deal.”
I’m impressed with how graciously Giselle is handling the incident. I’m not big on fashion, but you can clearly see the stain on her dress. It doesn’t appear to be fading.
“Can I try a sample of the Syrah, please?” Giselle asks, as she sets the cloth on the counter.
“Are you sure that I can’t do anything else for you?” the employee stammers, her hand shaking as she pours Giselle more wine.
“Nope, I’m fine.” Giselle, seemingly unfazed, gives the woman a kind smile and tastes the wine. “This one is great. Could you add a bottle to my case?”
“Yes. Of course.” She wanders off in search of a bottle.
I lay a kiss on top of Giselle’s head. “You sure you’re okay?”
She smiles up at me and lays a sweet kiss on my lips. “I’m wonderful.”
Yes, you are.
Giselle has the palette and the understanding of all the different flavors and notes in each type of wine. Me, I go for what tastes good. She settles on a single mixed case to bring home. I grab one bottle. I want to have something to remember this by.
It's day two with Giselle and I'm doubting everything, my plan for how this will end most of all. In my mind, in my dream, I would leave with her. We’d go somewhere and start our lives forever together. I grin, still wanting that. Somehow, I have to make her see that this is what she needs and wants, too. How hard can it be?
"Which one do you like?" Giselle holds up two different types of wine glasses in the winery gift shop.
"How about the one without the stem? Seems like there's less of a chance of accidentally spilling the wine in one of these."
"You're right. I'm going to get a set of these." She sets down the larger, fancier glass with a stem and takes a box of the stemless type to the register.
Moments like these give me hope, when she asks my opinion and actually takes it.
When she's cashed out, we walk outside and take a seat in the café area. It's gorgeous out here with a view of the vineyard to our left and the lake straight ahead. It's becoming a hot day, but there's a light breeze coming off the water that's keeping it comfortable.
"The salad with vinaigrette dressing sounds great. And what about a couple of light appetizers?" Giselle suggests, looking at the menu.
"I would love to try the cheese and olive plate, and maybe the bruschetta," I suggest.
"Perfect."
When the waitress stops by, we order wine and food. I take Giselle's hand in mine and we sit back and enjoy being together and relaxing until we get our lunch. It’s easy to imagine Giselle and me together all the time. She’s easy to be around and we always have a good time together—and don’t even get me started on the chemistry between us. I know we could make a real relationship work. I almost say something to that effect when our waitress stops by. It’s a sign. Maybe I’ll wait a little longer.
“I appreciate how you handled getting wine spilled all over your dress today,” I tell Giselle.
She waves her hand. “What good would it do to make a big deal out of it? The poor girl felt bad enough.”
“You’re right, but someone else might have been a hard-ass to her. You were gracious about it
.” I stare down at the outline of the red stain.
“There are enough real problems in life to get worked up over. This?” She gestures to her dress. “Is not one of them.”
Leaning in, I kiss her. I love seeing different sides of this woman. I know that the clothes she wears aren’t cheap and I’ve dated women who get carried away about trivial little things. It’s refreshing to see how Giselle handled herself.
The cheese and olives arrive first. I pop a black one in my mouth and I'm in heaven. It has a nice spicy bite. The red wine Giselle ordered tastes great with it. "Next year, Italy," I say. I mean it, too. It’s on my bucket list. I have no idea how I'm going to be able to afford it, but there has to be a way because exploring Italy with Giselle is now my next big goal.
"Oh, really?" she says, her voice carrying a tinge of doubt.
I don't blame her. In fact, I should feel defeated, but I'm not. This just means I have to prove myself, and I live for that shit.
Pulling her onto my lap, I lift her hand and lay a kiss on the back. "You wait and see."
She gives me a coy smile before taking a sip of her wine. Then she looks at me with those dark eyes over the edge of the glass. "Okay, Italy sounds fantastic. I've been around northern Italy, but I'd love to check out the Amalfi coast."
