I would be more than content to hop right back onto that bar, wrap my legs around him, and forget the interruption ever happened, but Jude’s so animated after his conversation with Mama Rosa that I can’t help but ask, “What was that all about?”
In a very movie-like-moment, Jude closes the distance between us and takes my hands in his. “Leila?” he asks, his eyes gleaming.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your take on revenge?” His eyebrows wiggle, one settling into a high, sexy arch.
Huh? What’s he talking about? “Well, it depends.” I shrug. I’m passive. Passive people don’t usually dabble in things like vengeance.
“What if I told you I had a way—well, Mama Rosa actually hatched this plan, but whatever—What if you could get back at Melissa for being such a—” He stops himself, but I quickly alleviate any worry he might have about speaking the truth.
“Oh, you can say it. Don’t hold back. She’s a bitch. Let’s call a spade a spade.”
“Okay, then.” He chuckles, staring down at our hands and then back into my eyes. “So, you’re game?”
I’m still not sure what he’s getting at, but the more I think about it, it might be nice to teach Melissa a lesson. “Yeah, sure.” I nod. “As long as no one is physically harmed, then yeah. Why not? She shouldn’t get away with abandoning me here with a stranger in his North Pole Wonderland Winery.”
Jude leans in and smolders. “Uh, you weren’t complaining five minutes ago when that stranger was kissing here and licking there.” He uses his forefinger to reawaken my lips, my neck, the swell of my breasts.
I clear my throat and mentally demand my legs hold me upright and quit that crap they keep doing whenever Jude gets close. “So, um . . . revenge? You were saying . . .”
Before I can ask anything more or ponder how much I’m digging this thing between me and Jude, he’s down on one knee before me, smiling the toothiest, most heart-stopping smile I’ve ever seen. It’s in that moment that I almost freak out worse than I did back in the bathroom. I know what he’s about to do. It can’t be possible. Not in reality, at least. But clearly, since the moment I stepped foot off that bus and locked eyes with him, Jude has been full of surprises and he’s about to deliver one more. With a sparkle in his blue eyes, he looks up at me with all sincerity and asks, “Leila, uh. . . Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, will you marry me?”
9
Leila
“Marry you?” I shriek, utterly baffled. “Jude! We barely . . . I don’t even . . . my last name’s Burke, by the way.”
Jude rises from his proposal stance, laughing his ass off.
“What’s so funny?”
“The look on your face, Miss Burke.”
I shake my head, still wondering where his left-fielded proposition came from. “Dude, you just asked me to marry you after knowing me all of three hours. Maybe less. I mean, I know I’m a good kisser and all, but—”
“Fabulous kisser,” he interjects, bringing his hand up to cup my face.
I swat it away and pull my other hand from his grasp as I back away. “Regardless, what’s this about? What did that . . . what’s her name . . . Mamacita Rosarita say that brought you down to your knees?”
Jude sizes me up and takes a long, sensual stride in my direction, pinning me against a wall. With his hands in my hair and his warm, wine-tinged breath tickling my nose, he says, “Mama Rosa had a great idea, but that’s not what brought me to my knees, love.”
I have no time to react or overthink because Jude’s lips assault mine with a predatory desire that throws all common sense out the window, almost willing me to accept his proposal right here and now. I lose myself in the kiss and imagine I’m not living in some alternative universe where my sister has left me for dead and the sweet, handsome, sexy man I just met has asked me to marry him.
“Wait! Stop!” I come to my senses, although my lips are cursing me for doing so, and smack my hands against his chest. Of their own accord, they stroke the rock solid muscle I hadn’t expected to be hidden beneath his red and black flannel shirt.
Clearly amused, and proud to boot, he flexes his pecs beneath my fingers. “You like?”
I wrench my hands to my sides and thrash my head from side to side to shake myself back to reality. “Never mind that.” I bend down and scoot out from under the cage his arms have formed around me. He swivels to face me, but maintains his distance when I warn him with an extended finger to keep him in place. “What’s this all about? Are you playing with me? I know I come off as some naïve pushover, but I don’t deserve to be messed with like this, Jude.” Tears well in my eyes but I quickly blink them away.
Jude rushes to my side, his hands gripping my shoulders, his eyes soft and repentant. “Oh, Leila, you’ve got it all wrong. I would never hurt you or screw with your head.” He hesitantly places his hand on my cheek and then rubs his thumb along my pouting lips. When I don’t object to his touch he grins, cocking a brow. “Melissa, on the other hand . . . That chick did you wrong. and I know they say two wrongs don’t make a right, but I think what I have planned will blow her top and give you the retribution you deserve. Plus, it means we get to spend more time together—I mean, if that’s something you’re interested in, of course.”
My head is still fuzzy with confusion, but my heart is pounding at the latter part of his statement. There’s something about this man that makes me want to spend all the time I can with him, especially since there’s so much I still don’t know about him. So much yet to explore.
I blink, my eyes fluttering shut for a long pause. When I reopen them, I’m renewed as I’m greeted with his calming yet butterfly-inducing smile. “So, what’s it gonna be, Leila Burke? You gonna leave me hanging or will you put your trust in a stranger and say yes?”
I feel like I’ve stepped right into a Hallmark movie or some other outlandish romantic tale. This is all so odd and unexpected, but it’s also inviting and intriguing. Jude’s questioning glare—innocent and engaging—reminds me of our conversations under the tree and at the bar. I’ve always done everything for everyone else. I’ve never rocked the boat or told my father no. Maybe today happened for a reason. Maybe Jude was put in my path with a purpose. I’m not silly enough to believe this marriage proposal will actually result in a lifelong commitment, but I am fueled by enough spontaneity to play along. With this revelation at the forefront of my mind, I find my mouth—or rather, my heart maybe—speaking for me before I can deliberate any longer. “Yes!” I nod my head, smiling. “I don’t know what I’m getting myself into, but yes, Jude Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, I will marry you.”
Jude grabs my waist with strong hands and lifts me up into the air. He lowers his arms and I slide down the very firm front of his body, settling me in his arms and under his penetrating gaze. “You’ve just made me the happiest man on earth, Leila Burke, soon-to-be Leila Romano. Now, before someone swoops in and carts us off to an asylum, how ’bout I explain?”
Beaming the way a woman who was just proposed to ought to beam, I place a quick kiss on his lips and then back away, looking into his blue eyes. “I’m all ears,” I say, when in reality it’s my heart that’s just taken center stage.
My head is spinning with names, places, and plans. Midway through Jude’s explanation, I had him draw up a family tree and a map of his hometown to get a clearer visual of all the information he tossed my way. After an hour, I think I have a good idea of how things work around here, but I’m still lost when it comes to his family’s lineage and who’s related to whom.
“That’ll come later, love. Don’t worry about that. Besides, grandmother is handling all the details.”
“Why would she do that? She doesn’t even know me.”
“Well, she knows me and she’d do anything for one of her own. Plus, she loves this kind of stuff. Once you meet her you’ll see what I mean.”
I can’t help swallowing the large knot of nerves that’s formed in my throat with an audible gulp. I only me
t Jude this morning. It’s not the norm to be introduced to the family on the same day. Unless, of course, you’ll be part of that family in one week’s time. Yes, I said one week’s time. Jude seems to think we can plan an entire, real-deal, pull-out-all-the-stops wedding in less than a week. And I haven’t even told my father yet. I inhale a long breath and let it out with an exaggerated huff. “Okay, I’m officially freaking out.”
Jude reaches over the bar and takes my hands in his. “Stop. No freaking out. This is supposed to be fun. Remember? Revenge.” He sings the last word and waggles his eyebrows up and down.
I giggle in spite of my internal meltdown and express my concerns. “Jude, on paper, yeah, it might work, but what happens afterward? And forget about after, how do you think I’ll get my father to agree to this? He’s a wonderful man, but I’m his baby girl—his usually level-headed, by-the-book baby girl. He’s not gonna buy this and if he does, he’s gonna hate me for being so reckless. Plus, he’s already pulling out what’s left of his hair over Melissa’s wedding, which is in two weeks.” I take a breath after my high-speed rant. “I just don’t see how, Jude!”
He comes around the bar and sits next to me. “What if we told him? You think he’d be in on it?”
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and bury my head in my hands. “No. Melissa is his daughter, too, remember? He would never screw with her this way, even if she’s guilty of screwing me over on so many levels. If we do this—and that’s a big if—he’d have to think it was real.” I think about how hurt he’ll be once he knows the truth, that this was a scam, an elaborate plan to rub it in Melissa’s face. I’d be a disappointment. He’d be crushed. What made me even think I could do this to him?
Jumping out of my seat, I march straight for the front door. Once there, I place my hand on the knob to open it and explain, “Jude, you’re a sweetheart and I know I said yes to your very generous proposal, but I think I’m gonna have to pass and just go back to being Melissa’s doormat and my father’s agreeable little girl.” The strap of my purse has slid off my shoulder so I hook it with a tight pull, my mind set on finding my way back home and forgetting any of this ever happened.
At least, that’s my plan until Jude rallies over to me in giant steps, pulls me into his arms, and hypnotizes me with another kiss.
10
Jude
This is by far the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Well, wait—there was that one time right before I turned eighteen when I stole my mother’s car in an attempt to impress my high school fling with a spontaneous escape to Niagara Falls. We got caught in Buffalo and her father made sure I never saw her again. Not my finest moment. I’m hoping this scheme, however, is more successful and with the backing of Mama Rosa, I’m sure it’s a solid shoe-in. There’s just the teensiest problem—Leila’s not totally on board, and if Leila’s not game, what’s the point? This whole idea was devised to make her feel better, not worse.
She stalks to the door and announces she’d rather go back to yessing her father to death and taking more shit from her sister than go through with marrying me in the name of revenge. I’m momentarily offended that she’d choose being miserable over playing fake fiancé with me, but the look in Leila’s eyes—the one that begs for understanding and compassion—urges me to step forward and be assertive for once in my life.
It takes four long strides to dissolve our distance and bring us back together again. Without a word, my hand captures her white-knuckled grip on the doorknob. She looks down at the connection and then back up into my eyes. My heart pounds in my chest, terrified of letting her slip through that door, never to see her again. Unable to control the urge to make her stay, I crush my lips against hers and her tight frown unlocks to let my tongue inside. I don’t know what it is about kissing her—the infiltration of her lavender scent, her soft but erotic moans, the way she anchors her hands in my hair as if to beg me to never let go—but I lose myself every time our lips meet and I know if she’d allow this to go further, in time I’d lose myself to her completely.
“Jude,” she exhales into my mouth. “What are you doing to me?” It’s not a complaint, rather a mewling submission. I can feel her limbs soften beneath my touch. That only fuels me to go further. “I’m making you happy. I’m making both of us very happy.”
She intensifies our kiss, taking control, clawing at my clothing. Her hand is long gone from the doorknob and I’ve backed her against the glass-paned door. The dimming sun casts an orange glow in the tasting room and as pretty as the ambiance is, I want privacy so I can explore her body and keep the images all to myself.
Still making love to her mouth, I grind against her, simultaneously locking the door and pulling down the shade. She grabs my shoulders and twirls us around so I’m the one with my back flush with the door. My head thumps against the window pane when she exhibits force with her greedy mouth. I chuckle, but it’s throaty and heavy with need; nothing humorous going on here.
Nope, nothing funny at all—in fact, the heat level just kicked up to inferno because she’s managed to unzip my pants and pull them down below my ass. Her lips move from my mouth, leaving it raw and empty, and she uses her teeth to take small, playful bites of my neck. My head falls back as her hand makes a path from my neck, down my chest, and into my boxer shorts. I suppress a gasp when her small hand seizes my cock and starts to stroke.
How did this happen? When did she gain control? Not that I’m complaining, but I was supposed to be making her happy and here I am so happy I could fucking cry. “Leila,” I growl, fisting my hand around hers. I pump along with her but pause to attend to her. She’s got me all worked up and I’d rather not finish in her hand before we even get started.
Regaining control, I push off the wall and guide her through a door to one of the aging rooms. It’s a clumsy journey as my pants are halfway down my legs and our mouths are busy drinking each other up. Once inside, I slam the door behind us and pin her against a wall. The room is filled with three large steel barrels. Most of the vineyard’s visitors take a liking to this room because it’s sleek and attractive, the place where all the magic happens, so to speak. A guttural laugh escapes me and fills Leila’s mouth when I think about how we’re about to make our own magic.
“Something funny?” she asks, tugging at the hem of my T-shirt.
“Not at all,” I breathe, hooking my hand at the bend of her knee and lifting her leg around my waist.
“Didn’t think so.” She resumes her delicious attack on my mouth and pulls me closer, nearly tearing my shirt in the process. I peel it off to get it out of the way and then continue fucking her mouth with my tongue.
A growing heat rises, billowing around us, inciting the need for more. I remove my hands from her face, traveling lower to undo the button of her jeans. She doesn’t object, rather her hips buck against me as I do my handy work. Her hands move quickly to pull down my pants the rest of the way, my boxers following not too far behind. We fumble, both of us stepping out of our clothes and kicking them to the side, but we don’t waste a moment before getting back to it.
Leila gropes me again, guiding me to her entrance. I caress her bare skin—her smooth thighs, the curve of her ass, her flat tummy, and finally her throbbing pussy. With one finger, I test her readiness and then smile against her lips when I feel how wet she is. She gasps when I thrust another finger inside, her head falling back, her mouth open in the shape of a cock-hardening “O.”
I want to take her so badly, immerse my entire length inside her drenched warmth, but the look of ecstasy on her beautiful face fills me with the need to watch her come for me first. I gaze down at my fingers, lost inside her, and curl my hand so my thumb can caress her clit. The moment I touch her there, her knees buckle. “Oh, Jude.” Her desperate cry resonates through the room.
“Hold on, love,” I say, hooking her arms around my neck to secure her balance. She steadies herself and rests her head against my shoulder as I continue to work my fingers in and out
of her sopping wet pussy.
Her labored breathing and soft whimpers are sultry music to my ears, a hymn dedicated to the stiffness between my legs, begging in on the action. But I won’t dare stop before she loses herself in my arms, until I milk her release and my name shouts from her lips. My thumb works slow circles at her most sensitive spot, the two other fingers never relenting. When I feel her coming close, her body tensing around me, I slip my fingers out and unclasp her arms from my neck. Swiftly, as not to leave her ravenous for release, I get down on my knees and bury my face between her legs.
Leila cries out when I suck her clit into my mouth. I grab hold of her ass and pull her closer. She tastes sweeter than any wine I’ve ever sampled. So delicious, I want to lap up every drop of her arousal. Stiffening my greedy tongue, I breach her entrance and then lick my way back up to her center. With one final, audible suck, she falls apart, her legs trembling, her piercing cries singing to me, “Yes. Oh, my God. Yes.”
I smile for what I’ve accomplished, but it fades under the influence of my own impending release. “Stay right there,” I command, reaching for my pants where my wallet is tucked into the back pocket. I take out a condom and rip open the wrapper. Leila, still panting, crawls over to me, undoing her top. The look in her eyes is predatory, fascinating as she undresses completely and then pulls the condom from my hands.
Our eyes meet as she removes it from the foil. She smiles, cocks a brow, and kisses me, hard and commanding while she sheaths my aching cock. Within seconds, she straddles me and I’m pushing into her slippery heat. “Fuck!” I growl when she grinds against me, triggering me to thrust deeper into her tight pussy.
Eat, Drink and Be . . . Married Page 5
