1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Even as I held her trembling body close to mine, I mourned the inevitable loss of her.

  Nothing gold can stay.

  Chapter 28

  Skylar

  The following week, I called Abelard Vineyards. Sebastian and even Natalie had encouraged me to do it Monday, but it took me a few days to work up the nerve. I wanted to be prepared in case she asked about experience, a college degree, why I’d been fired from Rivard, or even Save a Horse, on the off chance she’d watched.

  So it was Thursday afternoon by the time I punched the number into my cell.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, I’m calling for Mia Fournier.”

  “This is Mia.”

  I took a breath. “This is Skylar Nixon. I got your card from my friend Sebastian Pryce, and—“

  “Oh, at the law firm! Yes! Lucas mentioned you might be calling.”

  I smiled, relieved that she knew who I was. “Yes. I understand you’re interviewing for an assistant?”

  “I am. Are you interested in the position?”

  “Yes,” I said, biting my tongue before I added, but I’m not sure I’m qualified.

  “Great. Can you interview next week?”

  I told her I could, and we set up an interview at Abelard for nine AM Tuesday. I’d have to make sure I got that day off from Coffee Darling, but since Natalie was so supportive, I didn’t think she’d mind.

  I went to bed that night happy but nervous, making a list on my phone of all the things I needed to do—print out a resume, plan my outfit, research Abelard Vineyards. I needed to ask Sebastian what he knew about them since he’d met them already, but that would be fairly easy. I’d spent three nights out of the last five at the cabin and I was here now.

  “Stop worrying. She’s going to love you.” He turned back the sheet and climbed into bed, where I was sitting up cross-legged, my phone in my lap.

  I didn’t look up. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  “Stop.” He grabbed my phone and hid it behind his back.

  “Hey!” I got to my knees and tried to get it back.

  “Enough,” he said, holding it out of reach. “You have to get up too early to be doing this right now.”

  “Come on, give it back. I need it.” I made several unsuccessful attempts to get it, and he laughed.

  “You don’t. You need to relax, I can see it on your face. Don’t make me tie you up.”

  Sighing, I sat back on my heels. “Very funny.”

  “You’re fucking adorable when you pretend to be angry with me.” He set my phone on his nightstand and tackled me, throwing me onto my back. Now that we spent so much time together, I knew why his body was so hot—he went to the gym every fucking day! I was a slug compare to him. And he worked at the law firm a lot too. He’d worked a full day every day this week, and then worked out after that. We usually didn’t see each other until dinner time or later, which was why I ended up spending the night so much.

  It wasn’t that I missed him so badly the two nights we spent apart I could hardly sleep. Nope. No way.

  I squealed as I landed, grappling with him but laughing as he pinned my wrists to the bed near my shoulders. “Not a fair fight at all.”

  “Nope.” He kissed me, his lips and tongue a soft contrast to the hard strength of his hands cuffing my wrists. “My sister-in-law wants to meet you.”

  “Oh?” A little thrill moved through my body.

  “Yes. She came into the office this afternoon, and I asked her about supplying your parents’ guest houses with products. She has a catalog she’s going to give me to give to your mom.”

  “Great, thank you.”

  He kissed me again, on the lips first, then the neck and chest over the t-shirt of his I’d taken to sleeping in. “She asked if I’d like to bring you to their house for dinner.”

  “And what did you say?”

  He barely took his mouth of me. “I said fuck no, you have terrible table manners.”

  I rolled my eyes and kicked my legs at him. “You’re so mean. Get off me.”

  “Okay.” He flipped to his back, dragging me on top of him, holding my wrists above his head. “Better?”

  “Mmmmm.” Was I mad at him? I forgot. I drew my legs astride his hips, and slanted my mouth over his. As the kiss deepened, I rocked my hips against his thickening cock, feeling desire spark at my center. God, I was beginning to think I was a fiend, the way we’d been going at it almost every night this week. Last night I’d slept alone in my old bed, and I’d been so lonesome for him I had to get myself off like a lust-crazed teenager, and I still could hardly sleep.

  I’d been really good about taking my pill, but even so, in the back of my mind I wondered if any hormonal treatment would be strong enough to fend off his crazy smart, super ripped sperm. And holy shit, what would I do then? “I’ll be right back,” I whispered.

  He didn’t stop me from going for the ladder, which told me he probably knew what I needed to do. My pills were in my purse, which was downstairs, so it was a couple minutes before I climbed up again. The lamp was still burning, and the sight of shirtless Sebastian waiting for me in bed, on his back, the sheet pulled up to his hips, outline of his cock clearly visible, nearly made me trip over my own feet.

  Grinning, I jumped on him, straddling his hips again, my hands on his warm, hard chest. He grabbed the hem of the shirt I wore. “Not that I don’t love seeing you in my clothes, but I love it even more when you’re naked.”

  I happily whipped off the shirt and tossed it aside, leaving only my panties between us. Sebastian, I discovered, always slept naked.

  No complaints here.

  His hands moved to my ass as I leaned down to kiss him, my breasts brushing over his chest. He moaned, his tongue stroking between my lips, his hips lifting to push up against me. I moved my body over his, sliding my clit along his thick, hard cock, feeling my underwear grow damp.

  “Take them off.” His voice was low and firm.

  I smiled down at him. “Fiend.”

  “For you I am.”

  I bit my lip. “Did you miss me last night?”

  “So much I could hardly stand it.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Me too. What’s with us? Is it because the sex is so good?” Then I panicked. “I mean, it’s good for me…I hope it’s good for you.”

  He spanked me lightly. “Stop. It’s amazing for me, and you know it. I can’t get enough.”

  That put the grin back on my face and I swung one leg over so I could work my panties down my legs. I was so anxious to feel his cock hit The Spot I left them hanging around one ankle as I straddled him again. But he had another idea.

  Shimmying down the bed until his head was between my knees, he looked up at me. “I used to lie awake at night and think about doing this to you.” He kissed one inner thigh and then the other, rubbing his scruffy cheek against the sensitive skin there before wiggling down even further and dragging his tongue up my center.

  I shivered, falling forward to grip the simple wooden headboard. “Oh god, Sebastian. Your tongue is just…” But I couldn’t even find a word for it. Light and colors danced behind my closed eyelids as I dropped my head back, undulating my hips over his mouth. His arms looped over my legs, pulling me tighter to his face, and when I looked down I almost lost it at the sight of those gorgeous green eyes in the V between my legs.

  “Fuck,” I breathed as he worked my clit with the tip of his tongue. “I didn’t even know enough to imagine this. I had no idea it was even possible to feel this good.” It was true—I’d been with some really good-looking guys, but somehow being incredibly handsome didn’t always correlate to being that skilled in bed. Natalie and I agreed that slightly less attractive guys were probably better lovers because they had to work harder for it. Like she once confessed that Dan had kind of a small dick but was really good with his hands.

  Sebastian, however, had everything.

  Everything.

  Including his tongue buried in m
y pussy.

  And when the tension at my core whirled into a vortex too strong for my body to contain, he moaned along with me as I rode out my orgasm above him, grinding unabashedly against his face.

  When the spasms had stopped I moved down his body, prepared to take him in my mouth but he deftly flipped me onto my back and pinned my wrists by my head. In the lamplight I could see his shiny lips and chin, and my insides clenched with aftershocks. He kissed me hard and deep, his mouth open wide over mine, his tongue seeking mine. I tasted myself and him and us and sex and it was warm and sweet and I opened my legs for him, desperate to feel him enter my body and drive us both into another mad frenzy.

  He glided in easily, and I tilted my hips to take him deep. When he was buried to the root, he paused and looked down at me, and I thought he was going to say something but he didn’t. He just kept his eyes on mine as he started to move, his hips rolling like ocean waves over mine. I strained up against him, pressing closer with my chest, lifting my hips.

  “I missed you so much last night,” I whispered, every nerve ending in my body on fire. “I touched myself and thought of you.”

  “I did the same,” he said, the muscles in his arms flexing as he braced himself above me. “Twice.”

  I smiled, deliriously happy. “You win.”

  * * * *

  I spent the weekend working for Natalie and preparing for my interview. On Saturday after work, I went over to Jillian’s condo and she helped me put together my resume and print it on good paper. I wasn’t even sure she’d ask for it, and it wasn’t terribly impressive anyway, but at least it had some references on it and accounted for my education and the last five years of my life.

  Kind of sad I only needed a page for that.

  “Are you sure I should list Miranda Rivard?” I scrunched up my face when I saw her name on the test copy we’d printed.

  “She said it was fine, right?” Jillian set down a cup of tea for me.

  “Yeah. I guess so.” I’d called her the day before to ask her permission, and she’d said it was fine and she’d be honest about my good performance and the reason I was asked to leave. I didn’t love that part of it, but I had to list someone from Chateau Rivard if I wanted to put my time there on my resume, short-lived as it was. “What do you think?”

  Jillian looked over my shoulder, sipping her tea. “Let’s go a little bigger with the font on your name and move your contact information here.” She pointed to a different place on the page.

  “Okay.” It was small stuff, trivial even, but everything about the way I presented myself would be important, I knew that. After making the suggested changes, I printed it again. “Now how does it look?”

  She picked it up off the printer and studied it while I got up to fetch the honey from her cupboard. I spooned some into my tea and stirred it up, then I sucked on the spoon. Oh my god. My tongue is sore. I laughed quietly to myself, turning my back to Jillian as I recalled the spectacular feats of fellatio I’d performed last night in the rowboat, which we’d taken out for a late night cruise. Well, his must be too.

  When I turned around, Jillian was looking at me funny. “What?”

  “What are you laughing about over there?”

  “Nothing.” I dropped my eyes to my tea and quickly sat down again.

  “That is not a nothing face. That is an I-did-something-naughty face. Trust me, I’m the big sister. I know that face of yours.”

  I grinned, lifting my tea to my lips. “Guilty.”

  “So?”

  “I have a very sore tongue muscle today.”

  Jillian’s dark, high-arched brows shot up. “You do? And how’s his tongue?”

  “I’d be surprised if he can talk normally. I can barely walk normally.”

  “Oh my god,” she groaned, fanning herself. “You’re so lucky. Damn.”

  I picked up the resume. “So this looks good, you think?”

  “Yes. It’s fine. I want to hear more about the guy.” She propped her chin on her hand and looked at my dreamily. “I need to live vicariously.”

  “Jill. Come on. You’re beautiful. You’re a doctor. Where are all the beautiful male doctors I see on soap operas?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Married. Or fucking nurses. Or fucking anyone else they want to because they’re too busy to have a relationship.” Sighing, she sat up straight again. “And I guess I am, too. It just gets a little lonely sometimes.”

  “So fuck a hot doctor for fun.”

  “A year or two ago, I would have. I did. But now I think I’ll hold out for something better. What about you? Is this going somewhere, you think?”

  I shrugged, but couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “I think so. Feels like it. I really like him.”

  “Long term potential there?”

  I tilted my head this way and that. “Hard to say—I mean, it’s only been like ten days. I don’t even know what he’s thinking long term for himself. And he once said something about not believing in the one.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “The one?”

  “Yeah, you know. The one. The idea that there’s one perfect person for you and you have to find her or him.”

  “Ah, a soul mate,” she said. “Very romantic idea. But I’m not sure it’s real, either.”

  Glancing around at her clean, modern condo, I wondered if she ever pictured living here with someone else, or if she was content to live alone. “I don’t know what I believe. But I do know he sends mixed signals…when he first talked about his cabin I got the feeling he really enjoyed the solitude, but he always wants me to sleep there now, even if I have to get up crazy early for work the next morning and he has to drive me.”

  “Sounds like he really likes you too, then.”

  “I think so. I hope so.”

  “It also sounds like you need your own car.”

  I groaned, dropping my head back. “Yes. A car. An apartment. A job. Grown up things.”

  “Well, here you go.” She set the resume in front of me. “Step one. Go get it.”

  I took a deep breath. “You think I can?”

  “I know you can.” She lifted her cup with two hands. “What’s with the insecurity? Since when have you ever lacked confidence about something?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Since Mom told me I wasn’t a special snowflake.”

  Jillian choked on her tea. “What?”

  “Don’t laugh! I know it sounds ridiculous but Mom gave me this ‘pep talk’—I made little air quotes—last weekend, the day I moved out of the guest house, basically telling me that I need to quit whining, go out, and get a life for myself, because I’ve spent years getting everything handed to me and being told how pretty I am.”

  Jillian shrugged. “Kinda true.”

  “Thanks,” I said flatly. “Jeez, no wonder I like being around Sebastian. He’s always telling me how amazing and beautiful I am.”

  “And you are.” Jillian patted my hand. “But you’re gonna have to work for what you want too. Nothing comes free.”

  Chapter 29

  Skylar

  Later that night and all day Sunday, I spent a good amount of time researching Abelard Vineyards, and consequently, the Fourniers. On the About the Owners page of their website, I discovered that they’d met while she was vacationing in Paris and married in Provence. There was even a wedding picture, and I gasped when I saw it.

  “What a beautiful couple!” I angled my laptop toward the kitchen Sebastian so he could see. He was putting dinner together for us while I took notes on the winery. “This is her? The woman you met?”

  “That’s her,” he confirmed, going back to slicing potatoes.

  “Look, they got married at his family’s villa. Isn’t that romantic? A villa,” I said dreamily.

  “Maybe you should start with an apartment,” he teased, throwing the potatoes into a bowl.

  “Hahaha. I don’t even mean to live in—just to visit a place like that would be amazing.” I clicked on the picture to mak
e it bigger. “I’ve always wanted to go to France. Have you ever been?”

  “Nope. That would require getting on an airplane.”

  I looked up at him, surprised. “You don’t fly?”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  “How’d you get back and forth from New York?”

  “I wasn’t back and forth all that much, but when I was, I drove.”

  “Oh.” I stared at the picture for another minute, not really seeing it. I was kind of bummed about this. “Are you scared of flying? Or you just don’t like it?”

  “I don’t like it. In general, all transportation makes me edgy. Too many possibilities for tragedy to strike. Driving a car, at least I have some control. There’s enough anxiety in my life without adding airplanes to the mix.” He tossed the chunks of potatoes in some olive oil before dumping them on a baking sheet and sliding them into the oven. His movements had gotten stiff and his voice sounded a little testy, so I decided to drop it.

  “Got it. Okay, it says here that she got her business and master’s degrees at Michigan State and ran an event planning business in Detroit for years. And he was a professor in New York. A master’s,” I fretted. “And married to a professor. I bet she wants someone better educated.”

  “Stop it. Or you get no meat tonight.” He looked at me threateningly over one shoulder as he turned the steaks in their marinade.

  I held up my hands. “Stopping.”

  “Tell me what else it says.”

  “Okay, let’s see. Here’s some press clips about the winery.” I read the sound bites out loud, followed links to full articles, and took plenty of notes. Apparently, Lucas Fournier purchased the land from a grower who was trying to expand the red wine scene in Northern Michigan, which hadn’t taken off the way the white did. He was particularly interested in making gamay and pinot noir, so the next thing I did was research those grapes. I also read that Lucas Fournier had opened a successful absinthe bar in Detroit, and I read an interview in which he talked about being modern without sacrificing authenticity. About being willing to take risks. About trusting your gut even when common sense tells you otherwise.