by Jaci Burton
“Finn.”
He lifted her up and carried her down the hall to his bedroom, put her down only long enough to strip off her clothes and his, then laid her on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge.
And then his mouth was on her sex, sucking her clit, his tongue taking her right to the edge—and then over. She came with a shuddering cry, her body racked with delicious spasms that seemed to go on forever.
Finn stood and grabbed a condom from the drawer, put it on and lifted her leg, then eased inside her. She was still pulsing, her pussy wrapping around him like a glove.
“Damn,” he whispered as he began to move against her.
His features tightened as he stared down at her while he pumped into her, and all she could do was hold on, because her body was fully tuned in and ready to explode again. All she had to do was reach down and help herself along.
“Yes, do it,” Finn said.
His words excited her. The way he looked at her thrilled her. The way he snaked his hand up and down her leg as he twisted inside her excited her. She had to face that being here with him was the pinnacle of everything.
She was so close. And when she climaxed, he came down on top of her and gathered her in his arms, taking her mouth with his while he shuddered against her. It was a hot, passionate, intimate kiss as they both came apart together.
After, she felt his ragged breath on her cheek while she worked to take in a few deep breaths of her own. She was so sweaty that her skin stuck to his. He scooped his hand around her butt and lifted her off the bed, carrying her into the bathroom. He disposed of the condom, then turned the shower on so they could both rinse off.
She wound up her hair and stepped in after him. The water felt cool and such a relief to her tortured, hot body. Finn soaped up her back, his movements slow and tender. He rinsed her, then allowed her to return the favor. She loved the feel of his body under her hands, the way his muscles flexed with her touch. She was reluctant to let go of him, but she did and he rinsed off, and then they got out.
After she dried off, she started to grab her clothes.
“Nope,” Finn said, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. “I’ve got you naked now and you’re staying that way.”
He climbed onto the bed next to her. She rolled to her side and propped her head up on her hand.
“Oh, so you’re going to hold me prisoner here?”
He trailed his fingertip between her breasts. “You’re free to leave anytime you want.”
As if she’d move from this spot, with him touching her and looking at her the way he was. She rolled over onto her back. “I guess you can have your way with me, then.”
He moved over her, his lips inches from hers. “I love the way you suffer, Brenna.”
She laughed, and then he kissed her.
CHAPTER
• • • • • •
twenty-one
THE FALL HARVEST was Brenna’s busiest time of year. It was crazy hectic, but also fun, especially since the entire family pitched in to help. They typically didn’t have weddings that weekend because of the harvest, and because they invited the public to come out and help to pick the grapes, something the entire community enjoyed every year.
Though they hired seasonal help, it was a community outreach—and also excellent marketing for Red Moss Vineyards—to bring in friends and neighbors and put out the invitation on social media for harvest day.
Besides, who didn’t want to come out and stomp grapes? Other than Brenna, of course. She’d done plenty of that when she was younger, and while it was fun, her stomping days were over. Now she directed the action rather than took part in it.
Her day began at five a.m., though the official start time was at seven. She was up early, meeting with her dad and the staff to go over everything that needed to be done and make sure all the buckets and boxes were set up at the vineyard. By six a.m. people had already started to arrive, and fortunately they had staff there to direct the visitors to parking and the waiting area.
There were large pots of coffee along with juice and water for those waiting, but Erin, Honor and Mom were taking care of their guests so Brenna could be free to deal with vineyard business today.
“Excited?” Finn asked.
She nodded. “One of our best days of the year.”
He pulled her close and brushed his lips across hers. “Have a great day.”
She smiled at him, relieved that he understood how utterly swamped she was going to be today. She likely wouldn’t have a moment to spare. “We’ll catch up later.”
He nodded. “If you need something, yell for me.”
By the time Brenna and her team were ready, the staging area was filled with excited people who were ready to start picking grapes and filling buckets and bins. Since her dad was not at all into public speaking, it fell to Brenna to launch the harvest, so she walked up to the front of the group.
“Good morning, everyone. Thanks so much for coming to Harvest Day at Red Moss Vineyards. On behalf of the Bellini family, we welcome you and hope you’ll have a wonderful time harvesting grapes. We’re going to divide the groups into pickers, fillers and stompers. If you want to stomp grapes, you can follow Finn Nolan over there to the left-hand side, and he’ll lead you to the grape-stomping holding area. Pickers will be led by my father, Johnny Bellini. He and his staff will lay out all the rules about picking grapes. Then we’ll have loading groups take the grapes and load them into buckets and dump them into the stomping bins.
“I want you all to know that every part of this process is vital to making wine, so we appreciate all of you showing up to help us out. Once we’re finished, a champagne brunch will be served and everyone gets a T-shirt, courtesy of Red Moss Vineyards. Is everyone ready to get started?”
Cheers and claps went up and Brenna felt that initial thrill of excitement zipping through her nerve endings.
“Okay, everyone, follow your leaders, and let’s have a fun harvest!”
She waited while everyone dispersed. It all went well, no one seemed confused and as she walked among the lines of the grapes, her team had everyone in order.
“Owen came today,” Honor said. “I wasn’t sure he would.”
Brenna smiled as she noticed him having a conversation with their mom. “I’m glad he did. He hasn’t missed a harvest for as long as we’ve known him. The breakup with Erin was hard on everyone and Owen has distanced himself since then.”
Honor nodded. “Yes, he has. I think Dad calling him and asking him to come really let him know that all was forgiven.”
“I hope so. Erin is over it, she’s happy, and it’s time for everyone to move on now.”
“Exactly.” Honor smiled. “Oh, Colt is here. I need to go.”
Brenna squinted in the morning light to get a look at this guy that Honor had been dating. Ruggedly good-looking for sure. Honor threw her arms around him and Colt grabbed two giant handfuls of her sister’s ass. Right there in the open in front of everyone.
Ugh. Brenna could only hope her parents hadn’t seen that.
“What the—” Erin had come over. “Is that the infamous Colt she’s been gushing over?”
“Yes.”
“Handsy, isn’t he?” Erin glared at him.
It was one thing to put your hands all over a woman when you were in private. But this was a public event for the Bellini family with outside guests and Brenna could tell that Honor was uncomfortable with the groping.
“Who the hell is that guy?” Owen asked as he stepped up beside Brenna.
“Colt. Some cowboy Honor’s been dating.”
“Uh-huh. A little publicly familiar with Honor’s—parts, isn’t he?”
Owen didn’t look any happier about it than Brenna was.
“I’ll say,” Erin said.
Owen let out a disgusted grunt. “
Would you like me to have a talk with him? Or maybe knock him down?”
Brenna smirked. “No, I think Honor can handle him.” Hopefully.
“Fine. But I’ll keep a close eye on him. Hey, good to see both of you.”
“You, too, Owen,” Erin said. “We’re glad you’re here.”
Owen shot her a smile. “Thanks. It’s good to be here.”
Brenna watched as Owen trailed after Honor and Colt.
“Well, that was interesting, don’t you think?” Erin asked.
“What was?”
“Owen was pissed about Colt getting handsy with Honor.”
Brenna shrugged. “He’s always been protective of us.”
Erin gave her a half smile. “Maybe.”
What the hell did that mean? She started to ask, but then someone needed her, and Erin ran off, so she didn’t get the chance. She quickly fell into the routine of the day, and her mind was back on her grapes.
Admittedly, her grapes were her babies—as well as Red Moss Vineyards’s biggest moneymaker. Having people who weren’t well versed in handling them made her nervous. But between her, Dad and the staff, they kept a close eye on the pickers and made sure no one abused the grapes. Not that they would. They always had repeaters who showed up every year to pick and they loved the grapes nearly as much as Brenna did.
The system was flawless, and as she watched the bunches being placed in the buckets and carried to the stomping bins, she couldn’t help the thrill of excitement. Her grapes were on their way.
As she moved from station to station, she caught sight of Finn directing staff, carrying buckets and bins or stopping to help when someone asked a question. No matter where she was, he always seemed to enter her line of sight, sweat pouring down his face on this warm day, his muscles straining from the effort of carrying full buckets of grapes by himself.
She sighed. That man was something. And he made her heart do flippity-floppity things.
She stopped for a while to watch as several people—men, women and children—stomped the grapes. It always drew a crowd and Brenna was thrilled to see that a couple of the local television crews had showed up today. She had her mom to thank for that.
What she hadn’t expected were those microphones stuck in her face.
“We hear this is an annual event here at Red Moss Vineyards,” one of the reporters said. “What are your planned activities for the day?”
Fortunately, Brenna was able to think on her feet, so she outlined the day’s activities, then added, “If you’d like to take your shoes off, you’re welcome to stomp some grapes. And we’re including champagne brunch at the end.”
The reporter knew a good angle when she saw it, so before long she was stomping grapes in one of the bins, with the camera person getting a great shot while the adorable reporter gave a blow-by-blow of the process. All in all, some awesome publicity for the vineyard.
“How about you, Ms. Bellini?” another reporter asked. “Will you be stomping the grapes?”
She laughed. “Oh, no. I leave that fun for our guests.”
Finn came up to her and took her hand, smiling at the camera and the crowd that had gathered. “But don’t you think she should?”
A round of applause followed Finn’s suggestion. Since they were on camera, she couldn’t shoot him a venomous look. Instead, she grinned and said, “Of course. I’d love to.”
She kicked off her sneakers, dipped her feet in the wash bucket, then held Finn’s hand while she climbed into one of the bins, whispering to him as she did.
“I’m going to kill you.”
He just laughed in reply and said, “Have fun.”
She slid into the bin. It had been years since she’d stomped grapes, but she’d done this so many times she hadn’t forgotten the rhythm. Up and down, moving over the entire bin to be sure she mashed every grape. She’d forgotten how much fun it was and since the cameras were on her, she explained the process, how this was the old style of mashing grapes, how the liquid was collected underneath and how different it was from the more modern mechanical methods of extraction.
“You can imagine how much longer it took our ancestors to yield grape juice,” she explained. “How hard they had to work, compared to how quickly we can get juice with today’s machinery. But this is so much more fun, and an incredible amount of exercise, too.”
Everyone laughed, and when the cameras turned off, she climbed out of the bin, rinsed and dried her feet and put her sneakers back on.
Since Finn was still nearby, she went over to him. “You set me up.”
“Actually, your mom did. She’s the one who suggested it.”
“Oh, really.” She looked over at her mom, who was sitting at the table under a shade tree running grape totals. She happened to look up at the time, smiled and waved.
“You looked totally hot out there stomping those grapes. And I don’t mean weather hot, either.”
She looked up at him. “Thank you. It was fun. You should give it a try.”
“Oh, you know, I think I hear your dad calling my name.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “See you later.”
“Coward.”
He laughed and dashed off and Brenna shook her head, then a moment later realized he’d kissed her—in public, and she hadn’t shied away from it. In fact, her mom had been right there. She looked around to see not a single person paying the slightest bit of attention to her—to them.
She sighed, realizing that maybe her having a relationship with Finn was only a big deal to her, and not a single person was freaking out about it.
What did that mean?
It means you need to chill, Brenna.
Okay, then. She’d relax. A little. Maybe. Eventually.
Half the day was gone by the time picking and stomping was through. The bins were loaded up and driven to the warehouse for processing, and all the volunteers were directed to the barn where brunch was going to be served.
By then Brenna was exhausted, starving and ever-so-grateful for the catered brunch. First, she stood on the dais to talk to all the volunteers.
“My family and I would like to thank you all so much for participating today. You were a great help in harvesting the grapes, and we hope you had as much fun as we did. Now enjoy your brunch.”
Everyone clapped and the food was served.
Brenna saw that Finn had saved her a seat at the main table. She smiled at that and made her way over to sit by him, again checking out her family to see if anyone smirked or looked.
Nope. Nothing. No one even looked their way.
Huh.
“It went well,” he said.
She looked over at him. “Yes, it did. And you worked hard.”
“Not really. Just did what everyone else was doing.”
And he made it look so good.
She took a sip of her mimosa, which tasted cool and inviting, and then she went right for the food, which was just what she needed. They had multiple choices of eggs, bacon, sausage and all kinds of fruit, plus biscuits and a delectable selection of pastries to choose from. Brenna had small bites of everything. And she cleaned her plate.
“You were hungry,” Finn said.
She nodded. “I nibbled on half a croissant this morning, but that was a long time ago.”
He laid his hand on her thigh. “You worked up an appetite. And look at what you did. I’m so impressed.”
She laughed. “I do it every year. You’re always a part of it.”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then whispered, “Yeah, but I’m not usually as involved in everything as I was today. It was fun.”
She realized as she looked around that her entire family was watching, including her mom and dad, who both were giving them happy smiles.
Okay, now everyone was looking. And it made her real
ize that her relationship with Finn wasn’t for show. This was real and happening and as she saw her sisters smiling warmly at her, too, she didn’t know what to do.
Other than ignore it. That was what she was going to do. Just ignore it. Because she had wrap-up to do in the warehouse.
“I’ve gotta go,” she said to Finn as she stood. “More work to do.”
He looked up at her. “You need any help?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve got this.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
As she nearly sprinted toward the cellars, she realized she’d fled the scene like some criminal on the run.
Okay, so she hadn’t handled that well. But in her defense, this whole fake engagement and relationship thing with Finn had been because of Mitchell and Allison, who were not present today. And still, she’d fallen into a pattern with Finn.
It’s called a relationship, dumbass. You’re having a relationship with him.
“Shut up,” she mumbled to herself as she haltingly descended the steps of the cellar, grateful for the coolness of the concrete wall against her hand.
Not that the slow trek helped to anchor her thoughts, which were still all over the place. She didn’t know why she couldn’t reconcile her relationship with Finn and accept what it was.
Fear?
Probably.
She’d been sailing along with her life just fine until Finn crashed into it. Not that he hadn’t always been there. But as a boyfriend-slash-fake-fiancé? That had changed everything.
And when had her feelings changed from let’s-play-a-fun-game to it all becoming a little too real?
These were big questions. Questions she didn’t have the time or the want to answer. Not today, anyway.
But would she want to answer those questions tomorrow?
Probably not. Because she’d still be afraid of the answers tomorrow.
She sighed and went to work.
CHAPTER
• • • • • •
twenty-two
