by Elle Keating
Peyton followed Tasha’s gaze. Luke was standing across the room and staring directly at her. He didn’t even attempt to look away. Like he had this afternoon during the shoot. She had felt his burning gaze as she posed with Ryan, as she kissed that arrogant, self-loving prick. She had stolen a few glances whenever she could and caught him giving Ryan the look of death. She had thought she had seen steam coming out of his ears at one point. She had wanted to do a little happy dance right there on the floor when she saw how pissed he looked. But her moment of joy had evaporated and confusion had set in when she tried to analyze his behavior. In just a span of twenty-four hours, Peyton had witnessed him being kind and tender, like he had been on the beach. He had been attentive and somewhat relaxed while they ate sandwiches in his kitchen. And then he had morphed into a cold and indifferent ass immediately following his workout.
“Nope. He’s all yours, Tash.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, fluffing her sleek bob. A tube of lip gloss suddenly appeared in Tasha’s hands. Peyton watched her friend dab some gloss on and press her full lips together.
Images of this morning when Luke had told her to contact his father, not him if she had questions regarding Lainey’s wedding, flashed in her mind. “Positive,” she said.
“Great! Because I think I’m going to ask Luke to give me a tour,” Tasha said with a shit-eating grin. Man, she wanted to smack that smile clear off her friend’s face. But she had no right to be jealous and she most certainly had no claim on Luke. Tasha wasn’t breaking the girl code or anything because she had no idea how Peyton felt about Luke or that she had spent the night in his guest room. Not that Tasha hadn’t asked where Peyton had disappeared to via text around four o’clock this morning. For some reason Peyton lied out her ass and told Tasha that she had too much to drink and had taken a cab back to Gus’s.
“A tour of the winery?” Peyton asked.
“Oh yeah…that too,” Tasha said. “Wish me luck!” Tasha winked at her and then made her way over to Luke.
Luckily, the bartender arrived and set a full wine glass in front of her. Peyton took a hearty sip, trying to snuff out the flames that were desperately trying to escape her ears. She watched Tasha size up Luke, all the while licking her lips. Jealousy surged through her, or at least that was what she thought it was. Whatever it was, it was making her think some pretty disturbing thoughts, like grabbing her friend by the hair and dragging her out of the winery, far away from Luke.
She took a gulp of wine, which seemed to trigger her inner cheerleader and life coach to chime in.
You are a grown woman with a career. You have a wonderful apartment in New York City and a family who loves you. You don’t have time to worry about Luke McGinnis or wonder why he’s protective and caring one minute and a closed-off asshole the next. You need to get your priorities straight because you have a wedding to plan and a sister who is counting on you.
Peyton nodded in agreement with the little voice in her head, took a deep breath and told herself it was time to go home. And she would go home, right after she learned if Luke agreed to tour Tasha around.
So stupid, Peyton.
Tasha shimmied up next to Luke, took his lapels in her experienced fingers and whispered something in his ear. Peyton was too far away to hear his response, but she saw his lips tug into a smile and he offered his arm, which Tasha greedily accepted. Peyton gripped the wine glass tighter as she watched Luke guide Tasha down some hallway and out of sight. Peyton didn’t know her hands were shaking until her wine spilled over and splashed onto the floor.
Peyton grabbed a couple napkins from the bar and attempted to clean up her mess, but a waitress had already swooped in and was wiping up the spill. Peyton thanked her and then went to retrieve her purse, which she had left in the dressing room. She needed to get out of there. She didn’t want to risk the chance of seeing Tasha emerge from her “tour” with an afterglow and smelling of sex. And she definitely wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing Luke fresh from his romp with disheveled hair and rumpled clothes. Why did she agree to stay for dinner? She had ducked out of these after-shoot dinner parties that the magazines paid for plenty of times. She knew why. Because she wanted to see him again, to extend their time together. There was a name for what she was becoming. The word masochist came to mind.
Peyton found her purse and was on her way over to the bar to say a quick goodbye to everyone when Ryan appeared out of nowhere. “Hey, heading out?”
Peyton had worked with him on another shoot about two months ago. She didn’t like him. He was full of himself and nasty to the assistants and stylists. He acted like he was above everyone and she hated people like that. She also hated his response two months ago when she turned him down. He had been drinking at an after-shoot party, very similar to this one, and had asked her if she wanted to give him a blowjob. Thinking he was joking or just really drunk, she had laughed in his face. He had not taken kindly to that and through gritted teeth he had leaned over and told her to wipe that smile off her face. He then proceeded to tell her how many women would kill to suck his dick and that it was her loss that she didn’t drop to her knees. His obnoxious remarks had only made her laugh harder and she left giving Ryan not another thought until this weekend, when she learned that she had to work with him again. But she had been determined not to let the arrogant ass interfere. Although her stomach had churned when she was forced to kiss him for the sake of the shoot, she was able to work past it and act like the loving and doting newlywed.
“Yes. I’m heading home to my dad’s.” She didn’t need to elaborate. And he didn’t deserve to know more.
“Well, everyone is heading off to the airport tonight and on to their next job. But I’m not due in California until tomorrow afternoon. How about you ditch your daddy and spend the night with me? I’m staying in Atlantic City at the Franklin.”
Was that supposed to impress her? And did he just suggest for her to ditch her daddy? Daddy? Really?
Peyton stared at him. His smug smile irritated her. And the way he stood there, peering down at her as if he was waiting for her to melt and swoon, made her want to knee him in the nuts. Instead, she decided to fuck with his head. Peyton stepped closer and trailed her fingers from the collar of his shirt to just above his belt buckle. She heard his breathing quicken and then…holy shit…he moaned. It was soft, barely audible, but she heard it.
“Ryan?” she whispered. “Go fuck yourself.”
She didn’t wait for a reaction because she was already beyond satisfied. She simply walked past him and went to the bar. Peyton said her goodbyes to the models and crew and was on her way to the front door when Tasha and Luke came walking around the corner. Tasha was still clinging to his arm and giggling when Luke spotted her watching them. He stopped abruptly, which prompted Tasha to release him. She stood on her tippy toes, gave him a kiss on his cheek and said, “Thanks for the tour, handsome. Now can you point me to the nearest restroom so I can freshen up?” He nodded to a door just down the hallway. She winked at him and then started walking toward the room which meant that Tasha would be passing her by.
“So. Fucking. Hot,” Tasha mouthed to her as she disappeared into the restroom.
To say that she saw red was putting it mildly. Peyton knew it wasn’t wise to confront Luke while she was so angry. Nothing good could become of it. But she had to know. She wouldn’t be able to get past this, this whatever it was, until she knew what Luke McGinnis’s story was. Instead of leaving out the front door as she should have, she walked right up to Luke and said, “I would like a tour as well.”
His jaw clenched as his eyes bore into hers. He wasn’t smiling, and neither was she. “I believe you saw the venue when you came with you sister.”
Was he really dismissing her? Are you fucking kidding me?
“I believe I saw the Winter Room and the main banquet hall when you so graciously showed my sister and me around. It seems there are other rooms, other areas of the winery that you neglected
to show me.”
“Fine,” he said sharply. He didn’t offer his arm to her like he had Tasha. Rather, he stormed ahead, forcing her to trail behind him. She practically had to jog to keep up with him as they flowed from one room to the next. At any other time, she would have asked questions about the bottling room and the fermentation tanks he had briefly and curtly pointed out, but all she could think about was how much of an ass he was being…and what may have happened between him and Tasha. Ugh. A wave of nausea overtook her.
It was in the Winter Room at the tail end of their tour that she realized, as did her stomach, that she had enough. She had to know, and she wasn’t leaving without some answers. Luke had busied himself by stoking the fire in the enormous fireplace, the same one Lainey would be saying her vows in front of in less than six weeks. The glow of the fire and the white votive candles sprinkled throughout gave the room a cozy and romantic feel. Curse her sentimental side! She pushed that thought aside and said to his back, “Did I do something wrong?”
He didn’t turn and look at her. He just continued to poke that fire when he said, “No.”
“Are you angry that I ruined your plans with Gabe last night?” It was a lame question. But really, she didn’t know what else she could have done wrong, so whatever…as long as she kept him talking.
“No.”
No. That was all she was entitled to. His one-word answers drove her crazy, especially since he didn’t seem to have any problem spending over ten minutes alone with Tasha talking or…maybe he didn’t spend that time engaging in conversation because maybe they were too busy…
“Did you fuck Tasha?”
He dropped the poker, sending it crashing to the floor. He picked it up, propped it against the brick fireplace and faced her. “No.”
“But she asked you to…to fuck her. Didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Peyton should have been happy and ridden out that wave of relief, but she wasn’t. His admission that he had just shot down Tasha, one of the sexiest supermodels in the world, only brought on more questions. Questions she really had no business asking. But what did she really have to lose? He had already seen her at her worst. Covered in sand and puke, she imagined that she had looked like a real keeper. So she fired away.
“Are you married?”
He took two steps toward her. “No.”
“Have a girlfriend?” Her voice wavered a bit. She had been more confident when he had been across the room poking the damn fire, but now he was drifting toward her, causing her to lose her nerve.
Three more steps. “No.”
“Oh.” That was all she could get out. She had done a lot of embarrassing things in her life, like when she had taken a header off the catwalk at a major show, or when she had a serious wardrobe malfunction and unintentionally flashed hundreds of people her ass. And then there were those photos of her that were posted on social media before she had gotten her shit together. But this moment right here. This claimed the number one spot. “I get it. You’re just not interested…in me.”
Or maybe he senses what you are…
He made the distance between them disappear with two strides. His hands gripped her waist as he pinned her against the wall of windows at her back. “Do you honestly believe that I’m not attracted to you?”
His breathing was labored like hers and she was fighting to regain her composure. Trapped in his arms, his heated eyes searching hers, she fumbled for words. “I…I don’t know what you’re thinking. What you want.”
He swallowed hard and that vein near his temple pumped ferociously. His right hand tightened around her waist and his left cupped her cheek. “What do you want from me, Peyton?” he asked, his voice strained. He sounded as if he was in pain. And that’s when she felt something rock-hard press against her core. She didn’t need to look down or see the outline of his bulge to know that he was huge. She could feel it…every fucking where. “Say it,” he demanded.
“I want you to kiss me…please.”
There was no hesitation. The please in her answer barely passed through her lips when he kissed her with a hunger she had never encountered before. His tongue sought entry and she happily welcomed him in. He released her waist and took her face into both his massive hands and devoured her. His hips swayed into her, pressing her back firmly against the glass and flush against his cock. He only came up for air once and that was to say her name. She took that opportunity to ask for more. Her hand was on his belt when she felt him rip away from her.
He was panting, his lips swollen from her kisses when he took an additional two steps back. The sudden disconnect, his abrupt dismount left her speechless and she just stood there with her hair in a swirly mess and her panties soaked through.
“That should never have happened,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” she said. She wanted to blame impulsivity or hormones for her raw admission. But she couldn’t. She meant what she said. She wasn’t sorry. And she didn’t care if he knew it.
“You would be if you knew what I…” He stopped mid-sentence. A look of shock overtook him. He always seemed so cautious, careful of the words he chose when he spoke to her. But right now, he seemed rattled and that concerned her.
“If I knew what?”
“It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I’m not the man for you.”
All that concern she had felt just a second ago was replaced with good old-fashioned anger. “How do you know what I want? More importantly, how do you know what I need?”
His eyes darkened and for a moment she thought he was going to pounce on her and hopefully continue from where they left off, but he didn’t. With his hands fisted at his sides, he took another step away from her. He opened his mouth and she waited for his response. But to her surprise he remained silent, shook his head and left.
Chapter Twelve
Luke
“Brunette, petite, thirty minutes.”
“You got it, sexy. She’ll be waiting.”
Luke ended his phone call with Ashton and pressed his foot to the floor. He took advantage of the late hour and little traffic and sped down the Atlantic City Expressway. His anxiety was off the charts and he needed relief in the form of someone who physically looked drastically different than Peyton. He still couldn’t believe that he had kissed her. But what made him really lose it in the Winter Room was when she had asked for it…and said please. It had been a full two hours since she had left the winery and he was still hard as a rock.
Luke put his hand to his chest and felt his heart beating. The erratic thumping scared the shit out of him and it only continued to increase the closer he got to Eden. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. In the past, when he needed to fuck, to escape his own mind for a few hours, he was able to jump in the car and drive knowing that what waited for him would temporarily quell his need. But tonight was different. It seemed that the more distance he put between himself and Peyton, the more unhinged he became. His trip to Atlantic City was having the opposite effect.
Breathless and sweating like a pig, he pulled into the next rest stop and turned off the ignition. Déjà vu swept over him at that moment and he was back in his vineyard, to yesterday when he had thrown himself on the ground while in the throes of a panic attack. After a few minutes, he had realized that he wasn’t getting anywhere and he suddenly had the need to see Peyton. He had listened to his gut and found her in the banquet hall. His angst had plummeted at the sight of her. She had centered him somehow.
He needed to hear her voice, even if her message was to tell him to fuck off. He knew she was pissed off. What woman wouldn’t be? He had taken her savagely and then like the prick that he was, turned around and told her that kissing her was a mistake. He had continued to add salt to the wound when he’d said he was not the man for her.
Luke found her number in his contacts. He dialed and waited…and waited. After the fifth ring, it went to voicemail.
He didn’t bother leaving a message. She would probably just delete it without listening to it anyway. But a quick text? Maybe she would respond, despite her fury. Sitting in his truck at a rest stop after midnight, things were looking rather bleak. He texted the first thing that came to him. Something that had been worrying him the moment she had been picked up from the winery by a cab.
***
Peyton
It was a gift from God to come home and discover that Gus had already retired for the night. Not that she didn’t want to see her dad and eat a tub of ice cream with him, but she was too upset with what had happened to engage in conversation. If she’d looked even a smidgen the way she felt right now, Gus would have called her out immediately and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to have to explain to Gus why her heart felt like it had been shattered by a man she barely knew.
Feeling like complete shit she took a long shower and slipped into bed. She had thought about binge watching that Scottish Highlander show on cable, the one everyone was talking about, but not even a six-foot-four man in a kilt would be able to take her mind off Luke and that kiss. Instead, she decided to torture herself and replay the events of the night in her head. The way his hands had taken hold of her face. The way he had kissed her with such raw need. She had never felt that before, to have a man completely lose it because he needed to taste her. Just the thought of his groans, how tortured he had sounded when she returned that feverish kiss made her wet with need. Instinctively, she slid her fingers beneath her panties only to be interrupted by her cell phone. Pissed, she reached for her phone on the nightstand and stared at the name of the incoming caller.
