by Maisey Yates
“That sounds strange,” she said.
“I promise you it’s amazing.”
“I’ll try it with this,” she said, lifting her glass.
“I think I might try it with a dessert wine,” he said, rifling through one of the crates until he produced a rosé. He poured a measure of it into the glass and took a taste.
“Verdict?” she asked as she watched him take a long, slow sip.
She had the vague thought that she would pay a good amount of money to be that wineglass about now, and she wondered when her running internal monologue had become a construction worker.
But watching his lips curve around that fine crystal, masculine, firm, and everything that she craved, then watching the strong column of his throat shift as he swallowed... Everything in her had gone tight, completely bound up with her need for him. With her need for something she had never experienced before. Something she had only ever felt the promise of.
She was suddenly starving. The intervening years between when she had last been naked with him and now seeming endless.
And sure, the last time she had been naked with him she hadn’t touched him, and he hadn’t touched her. But she craved it again. Being before him like that, without barriers, without hiding.
“Good,” he said, his voice rough.
His eyes met hers, then dropped down to her lips, and she felt...weightless. Breathless.
“You should have a taste,” he said.
She reached out, making a move toward the wineglass, but he set it down, moving it out of her grasp, and then he leaned forward, resting on his elbow as he brought his lips up against hers.
If his mouth tasted of wine, she didn’t know it. Couldn’t make any sense of it all. Because the only thing she was aware of, the only thing that she tasted, the only thing she was conscious of, was Liam. Liam’s mouth. Liam’s hand, coming up to cup her face, that calloused thumb running over her cheekbone, down to her chin, holding her steady as he deepened the kiss, as his tongue slid over hers.
A shudder went through her. A deep, unending sigh of satisfaction that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her.
He moved away from her, his thumb still pressed against her chin.
“I told you that I was...” Her words came out thick, slurred, and it had nothing to do with the wine. She swallowed and tried to finish her thought. “That I wasn’t sure yet.”
“It was just a kiss,” he said.
He smiled, too smooth, too easy.
And she knew then that he was a liar. Because there was no such thing as just a kiss between them. There never had been. Not thirteen years ago and certainly not now.
He could talk all he wanted about how that kiss out in the vineyard hadn’t meant anything. He could say that it was nothing now, that it wasn’t leading to anything, but it was a lie. That kiss, that first kiss, had always been leading to this one.
There was nothing simple about the two of them. Nothing simple about when they touched. About when they were sharing the same space, breathing the same air.
Their connection with each other had been instant from the start. Electric. Everything. It still was.
A flame that had been smoldering for years, never effectively put out. So why not let it burn? Why not see how bright, how hot it could get? Instead of simply letting the coals sit there, refusing to die.
This passion between them was like a campfire that she had been keeping an eye on for the past thirteen years. Minding it closely, making sure it didn’t flare back up, but never quite letting it die.
So now she just wanted to let it rage. All the way. To see how high, how hot those flames could get before she thought that was the only time she would be able to let it go. It was the only hope she had of being able to let it go. Letting him go.
To either prove that it had no potential, that it was never going to burn at all, that it was only ever going to be embers, or to prove that it was as hot and destructive as she had expected, as she had always suspected.
It was this in between... That was what couldn’t be endured. Not anymore. Not for one more second.
But she wasn’t seventeen, not anymore. And she wasn’t going to let him get away with his oh-so-patented charming brand of bullshit.
“Liar,” she said against his mouth, the tip of her tongue touching the top of his lip.
“What?” he asked, those green eyes burning into hers.
“It’s not just a kiss. It’s never just a kiss. Not with us. It ends in scars. In nakedness. In tears. But it doesn’t end in a kiss.”
“Maybe this time it will,” he said.
“Maybe,” she said. “But I don’t want it to.”
“You want scars and tears?”
“Those I would rather avoid. But...I was naked in front of you, Liam Donnelly, and you were never naked in front of me. I think I’m owed a little bit of nakedness.”
His gaze slid to the picture window, to the darkened streets outside. “You want to put on a show for the neighbors?”
Her heartbeat quickened. “Not especially.”
“Then maybe it’s best if it doesn’t happen here.”
“Take me home,” she said. “I’m buzzed, anyway.”
“A few sips of wine doesn’t do much to me,” he said.
“Take me home,” she reiterated.
“I don’t think you want me to take you back to Finn’s place.”
“No. You can come to my house. I have a place. Just outside of the town. About ten minutes past Copper Ridge. Before the winery. I live by myself.”
“Okay,” he said, the words coming out slowly.
“Don’t reject me,” she said. “Not again. I will end you, Donnelly. I swear it.”
He shook his head, his green eyes intense. “I am not capable of rejecting you right now,” he said. “Not this time, babe.”
“Good. Because I swear to God if you got me all worked up for this and it’s some kind of joke...”
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s not.”
He grabbed hold of her hand and jerked her upward so that she was standing with him, and then they started to head toward the door.
“Wait!”
“What?” he asked, those green eyes suddenly looking hazy, and she knew it wasn’t from the wine. Gloried in that realization.
“We can’t go wasting all that cheese,” she said.
He looked down, and her eyes were drawn to the very obvious bulge in the front of his jeans. “I’d rather waste the cheese than this.”
Heat bled into her cheeks, spread down her neck. “Do erections have some kind of short shelf life I’m unaware of?” she asked, giving thanks for that little bit of buzz she did have, since it was making her feel bolder, and a bit less awkward than she otherwise would.
Or, it was lying to her, and she was actually behaving awkwardly, and what she had just asked him wasn’t funny at all. But she didn’t know which it was. Because wine.
He rolled his eyes, then went back and grabbed the box of cheese. “The wine will be fine,” he said.
“Yes,” she said emphatically. “It will.”
They went outside, and she waited for him to unlock the truck. He opened the passenger side door and she got in, casting a glance at her car, knowing this meant it would be here all night.
They were on the very end of the street, at least, so maybe people wouldn’t notice. Or, if they did, maybe they wouldn’t jump to too many conclusions.
He started the truck and headed down the main street, and suddenly, Liam cursed. “Do you happen to have condoms at your place?”
The question jarred her, made her cheeks even hotter. Duh. She should have thought about condoms. “No,” she said.
“Why not?”
She tur
ned to face him, but his eyes were fixed on the road, his jaw set. “Don’t you have them in your wallet?” she asked.
“No,” he said, “I don’t.”
“Men are supposed to carry them in their wallets,” she insisted.
“Actually,” he said, “men are not supposed to carry them in their wallets because it’s bad for the latex.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking, “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, a lot of people don’t know that,” he said. “But I’ve kind of made it my business to know about contraception.”
“Right,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “I guess that makes sense.”
“I was not going to be like my father,” he said. “I’m not going to have a bunch of random kids and not take care of them. Hell, I don’t even want a bunch of random kids that I do take care of.”
“Totally understandable.” Her stomach sank, not sure what all this meant.
He hung a sharp right and swung into the grocery store parking lot. “I’ll just be quick.”
“Wait,” she said, tumbling out of the truck with him, not willing to let him out of her sight in case their separation broke the spell that had settled over them.
She followed him into the grocery store, and belatedly realized her mistake. “Oh,” she said. “You’re buying...”
“What did you think? That I was going to take you home and just leave you there to sleep by yourself? Hell no. You said you want me, so I’m going to have you. And no lack of condoms is going to stop me.”
They walked through the automatic doors and into the small store, moving quickly past the produce and on to the aisles of packaged foods and everyday necessities.
She looked around, feeling edgy. The store wasn’t crowded, but she still didn’t trust that they wouldn’t run into someone they knew. Well, they probably wouldn’t know Liam, but they would most definitely know her. She grabbed a little handheld shopping basket and took a bag of Cheetos off the shelf, then continued walking behind Liam.
He turned and glanced at her basket. “Cheetos?”
“If we’re hungry.” She straightened and met his eyes. “After the sex.”
He blinked. “Right.”
They kept walking toward the aisle that read Family Planning on the little sign that hung over the top of it, and she grabbed a few more items along the way. Oreos and a jar of pickles. “You realize that that basket makes it look like we don’t need the condoms.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I mean, it looks like they’re too late to be effective. Oreos and pickles?”
She scuffed her toe over the pale, mottled tile floor. “I figure we might burn calories.”
“What do you think we’re going to do? Run laps around the bed?”
She bit back the honest answer, which was that she honest-to-God didn’t know.
Well, she did. She was thirty years old. She knew what people did in bed. Theoretically. She just hadn’t done it.
She followed him down the aisle, and they stopped in front of the condoms, which was an item she had never bought before. It was an item she kind of avoided looking at whenever she came near this aisle for pads or tampons.
“I hear the ribbed ones are supposed to be good,” she said, the words sounding inane.
“You hear?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.
“Yeah,” she said, trying to sound casual and sophisticated and very much in the loop where condoms and their various attractions were concerned.
He lifted a brow, then grabbed a box that was not ribbed. She held out her basket, and he put the box inside, and she arranged the bag of Cheetos over the top of it.
He smirked, but didn’t say anything as they made their way over to the checkout. Her face got hideously red as they approached because she realized that no matter how well-concealed the condoms were beneath the Cheetos, the high schooler currently working the register was going to have to ring them up.
“You could have waited in the truck,” Liam said, noticing her discomfort.
“Well, I wasn’t thinking.”
“And you needed Oreos and Cheetos. And pickles, apparently.”
She wrinkled her nose, then looked behind them and nearly jumped out of her skin. Clara was standing there with a speculative look on her face and a shopping basket that had frozen macaroni and cheese and a couple of cases of Coke.
“Hi,” Sabrina said.
“Hi,” Clara returned.
“What are you doing... I mean... It’s a weird time to be at the grocery store,” Sabrina said, knowing she sounded faintly accusing.
“It can’t be too weird, since you’re here,” Clara pointed out.
“I just thought...” Sabrina waved a hand. “You bison farmers went to bed early.”
“Usually,” Clara said. “But we were out of Coke, and I can’t abide by that. I need it in the fridge and cold by lunch tomorrow. And I’m not going to have time then. So. Important things.”
“Sure,” Sabrina said. “We were just at the tasting room.”
“Okay,” Clara responded. Meanwhile, Liam had moved up to the front of the line and was unloading their items onto the conveyor belt. He said nothing to Clara, and placed the Cheetos, pickles and Oreos on the conveyor belt casually. Then the condoms.
She cast Clara a glance.
“Just running some errands,” she said, the words thin.
“Cool,” Clara responded, her eyes most definitely on that very telling gray box.
“Stocking up on the essentials,” she continued.
“Clearly,” Clara said, nodding.
“How are the bison?”
“The bison are good,” Clara said.
As small talk went, theirs was fairly ludicrous. Talking bison and ignoring the magnum elephant in the room.
Liam finished paying, and blessedly, all of their items were then put into a bag. Concealed from sight.
Sabrina breathed out a sigh of relief. “Well, we’re going to go.”
Clara nodded. “You should. Get those Cheetos in the fridge.”
She bristled, but kept a smile on her face. “Sure. And...maybe don’t mention that you saw me buying Cheetos to anyone.”
“Okay,” Clara said, putting her mac and cheese on the conveyor belt. “Have...a good night.”
“I will,” Sabrina said.
She really hoped that was true.
She looked up at Liam, who was looking at her with an intensity that made the rock in her chest feel possibly heavier, larger.
She looked back at Clara one more time, and then followed Liam out of the store.
Suddenly, panic was the prevailing feeling. That rock sliding down into her stomach, sending sparks of confusion and nerves skittering through her. “Maybe you should just drop me off at home,” she said.
He said nothing, instead, he just turned onto the road that led out of town, his forearm resting on the top of the steering wheel, the streetlights illuminating the determined set of his jaw.
“I just... That kind of messed up the mood.”
He didn’t respond to that either. She watched him until they drove out of range of the streetlights, until the only light came from the headlights on his truck, those same trees that had almost been beneath her notice earlier today suddenly looking dark and ominous.
“Is this the right way?” he asked.
“Yes,” she responded, twisting her hands in her lap.
What was she doing now? She was afraid. That’s what was happening. She was scared of what all of this meant. Of being rejected again. Of not knowing what she was doing. Of him discovering that she didn’t know what she was doing. That was the problem. With all of this.
Because once she was naked with h
im again, once they were together, he was going to know. That she wasn’t just wounded, that she wasn’t just angry, but that she was stalled out. And that it was because of him.
Now that the buzz from the wine had faded, all of her bravado was gone with it. Evaporated into the ether, impossible to retrieve.
The silence was as oppressive as the darkness, crushing in around them, like a weight that she didn’t have the power to lift back off. She didn’t know what to say to him. Didn’t know what to say to any of this.
She was never like this. She was never panicky. Except when it came to him. He was the one that made her do things like this. That made her walk into Ace’s bar and run out like a scared little girl. He was the one that made her feel uncertain, where she had otherwise learned to stand on her own feet and be competent. She’d had to do that, because her own father had cut her off and everything in her life she’d been so certain of had gotten destroyed at seventeen. She had to make her own way, she had no choice.
And Liam made her feel like... Well, he made her feel like a seventeen-year-old. Like the feelings inside of her were too big for her skin. She wanted to unzip it. To escape. To be someone else. Anyone else. Just not Sabrina Leighton. Sabrina Leighton who would never be woman enough, would never be sexy enough or interesting enough for a man like Liam Donnelly.
He made her feel immature. Like everything she did and said was wrong.
Not because of him, but because she just wanted to do the right thing, the seductive thing, so damned much.
And now it was all ruined again. What the hell had she been doing? Pickles and Oreos. She was a world-class dumbass. And most definitely a virgin.
She was going to continue to be one.
She continued to spin out her self-flagellation as they carried on down the highway, until they came to the road that led to her house.
“Turn here,” she said softly.
“Left or right?”
“Left,” she said.
He turned sharply, then continued on down the road until she indicated a narrow dirt driveway. Doom. It felt like they were headed toward doom. Or the very least the end of something. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted to see the end of.
