Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

35. Ethan

CHAPTER 35

Ethan

THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

T he day before Thanksgiving, the winery is a madhouse. It’s an all-hands-on-deck kind of day. Even Ariana is hard at work, having shut down Novel early to help out. She and Layla are manning the tasting room so our regular attendants can have the day off. Between wine club members picking up their fall release cases, locals and out-of-towners doing tastings, and the restaurant overflowing, it feels like every corner of the estate is filled. To stay away from the commotion, I remain upstairs in my office.

“You mind if I cut out early?” Tawny asks. “I have a lot of prep work to do before my in-laws come over.”

“Go ahead,” I tell her absentmindedly.

She leans her body in through the doorway. “Oh, and by the way, you have a visitor.” She winks and then disappears down the hall.

I get up and round the corner, about to ask who it is when I find Marisa, nearly running into her. She looks so fucking pretty.

But more than that, she looks healthy, too. The color has returned to her cheeks, and her eyes look much more alive than the last time I saw her. Apart from a text to ask how she was feeling, I haven’t seen or spoken to her since she kicked me out after I told her about her mom not coming.

She looks at me, chin slightly down, lips rolled back and a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Hey,” I say, breathless.

“Hey.” She smiles. It’s her nervous one. “Busy?”

Extremely. “No, come on in.”

I lean my hip against my desk, and she sits in one of the leather wingbacks. “I wanted to come by and apologize for the other night. I shouldn’t have been so short with you, especially after you were nice enough to make me soup and take care of me. I feel really bad about the whole thing. I think it was the fever, you know? It was making me cranky and emotional, and really, I was a mess.”

I love it when she rambles. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re feeling better. And that you don’t look like a sickly Victorian child dying from scarlet fever anymore.”

Her jaw drops, releasing a gasping laugh. “You’re an ass.”

“Go for Ethan,” Gavin’s static voice blares through my radio, causing us both to jump.

I grab the radio off my desk. “This is Ethan. Over.”

“Do you have time to go down to the cellar? I think I left behind my stainless steel wine thief. Can you go check? I have to pick up Lily and don’t have time.”

“I’ll handle it. Over.”

Marisa rises, sliding her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll head out. You seem busy.”

That may be true, but I’m not ready for her to leave. “Have you seen the cellar yet?”

“No,” she says hesitantly, but her eyes are curious. “It’s not creepy down there, is it?”

“No.” I laugh through my nose. “Come on. Come with me.”

The stairs that lead down to the cellar are being renovated, so we take the elevator. When the doors open, there’s a noticeable drop in temperature. Marisa instantly folds her arms. I take off my flannel, draping it over her shoulders before she can protest.

She shivers and blows on her palms. “I thought you said it wasn’t creepy.”

“It isn’t,” I counter.

She rolls her eyes at me, slipping her arms through the sleeves and clutching my flannel tighter around herself. The sleeves hang way past her hands and the fabric completely engulfs her. I don’t think I’ll ever not love the sight of her in my clothes.

“What are we looking for again?” Her eyes wander over the hundreds of barrels stacked to the ceiling. I’ve been down here more times than I can count and forget that it’s something worth looking at. It’s one of the most popular spots for first looks between couples getting married at the winery.

“A thief. It’s a long, shiny, silver thing.”

She snorts and says, “That’s what she said,” under her breath.

Gavin would’ve left it near the cluster of barrels, ready for racking. I glance around, and sure enough, it’s sitting on a cart next to the barrels.

“Found it,” I announce.

Marisa, who’s wandered off, starts walking my way, the sounds of her shoes echoing closer and closer.

“Good, it’s fucking freezing.”

“Okay, let’s go?—”

A loud boom sounds, and the lights cut out. Marisa screams and grabs on to me, her nails digging into my skin.

“What was that?” Her voice is muffled from her mouth pressing into my arm.

The lighting is dim and terrible down here, but without it, it’s pitch black.

“I’m not sure.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her against me, telling myself it’s for safety and has nothing to do with loving the feel of her in my arms. She grabs on to me tighter. “If we go this way, we can sit down and I’ll make some calls.”

I feel her nod as she walks with me to the edge of the wall. Together, we slide down onto our bottoms and sit on the concrete, pulling apart as we do.

Gavin beats me to the punch and calls through on the radio. “Did anybody else hear an explosion?”

“What happened? Marisa and I are trapped in the cellar.”

“I think a transformer blew, but I’m not sure. I’ll have Mom go get Lily. If you give me about twenty minutes, I’ll come release the roll-up door and get you guys out. That is, assuming the power doesn’t come back on before then.”

“Sounds good. We’ll wait.”

Marisa tenses. “A whole twenty minutes in the dark? Thank God you’re here with me. I think I’d be panicking if I were alone. At least with you, I know I’m safe.”

Her words shouldn’t affect me the way they do. She’d likely feel safe with anyone. It’s not the person, it’s the idea. It’s not having to face the darkness alone. But in this instance, it is me who she feels safe with, and I’m going to let myself sit in that feeling longer than I should.

The darkness, the silence, it’s like we’ve slipped outside of reality. Time is still.

Marisa shivers and, without thinking, I wrap my arm back around her and tuck her in close. She sighs, and it vibrates through my side.

“Thank you.” Her teeth chatter. “I hope I don’t get you sick, I’m probably still contagious.”

“You’re fine,” I say in a low voice and pull her even closer.

We haven’t been this close since we kissed. I missed her. Is that possible? To miss someone despite seeing her all the time? Her vanilla scent drifts between us. It’s a drug. A drug I’ve quickly become addicted to.

She turns her head toward my neck, and her breath tickles my skin. “Ethan?” she whispers.

“Hmm?” I don’t trust my voice.

“Do you ever think about it?”

My lungs squeeze. All breathing comes to a halt. I’m not sure if her mind is where mine is.

A silent beat passes.

“The kiss,” she clarifies.

All the time. “Yes,” I say hesitantly. I’m not sure where she’s going with this.

“Me, too,” she admits.

Silence.

It stretches between us, thick like dense fog. I don’t know where to go from here. I feel like anything I could say would be wrong.

I want to kiss you again.

I think about kissing you all the time.

I wonder what would’ve happened had we not been interrupted.

So.

Many.

Thoughts.

Her fingers begin tiptoeing across my torso, as if they’re dancing to a silent song. Is it intentional? Is she trying to kill me?

A pattern forms. Definitely intentional.

Her body shakes, and for a second, I think she’s crying, but I quickly realize she’s snickering.

“What are you doing?”

She snorts, laughing harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice is full of mock confusion.

I bark a laugh. “Are you sure you don’t still have a fever?”

“I was feeling fidgety and didn’t know what to do with my hands.” She’s giggling. That same awful giggle I heard that first night. I liked it then, but now I’m certain I love it.

She starts the dance again, but I quickly capture her hand in mine.

“Boo,” she protests. “You’re no fun.”

She can’t see my face. She can’t see that I’m always up for a challenge. “That’s it.” I trap her so she can’t move and tickle her under her ribs.

She squeals so loud it echoes. “Ethan,” she screams.

Fuck, do I wish my name was being screamed like that for an entirely different reason.

She squirms, trying to escape, but I’m relentless.

Her shirt lifts.

My hands slip.

Her skin is so smooth right here. So warm.

“Ethan,” she moans.

I still, my hands freezing.

She wiggles. Or maybe that’s her hips grinding.

Her warm breath dusts along my earlobe. “Don’t stop,” she whispers.

My throat bobs. Am I hallucinating?

Moisture forms where her breath was a moment ago. I’m losing it. Imagining things that aren’t real.

Then a pinch. A nip. Teeth pulling on the delicate skin.

I definitely didn’t imagine that.

She wiggles again, moving her body. Now instead of leaning on me on her side, she faces me, kneeling in the space between my widened legs.

“Ethan…” she says quietly. She’s close enough that her whisper fans my face. She slides her hands up my torso, over my chest, snaking them around my neck. “I’m so tired of fighting this. Please tell me it’s not one-sided.”

Fuck…

My hand reaches for her, pulling her against me. Our foreheads press together as we share the same air.

“It’s not one-sided.” My hands dig into her hips, desperate to feel her closer. “Are you sure?” I ask. Three words that mean a hell of a lot more than what I’m asking.

Are you sure about this? Because we both know where this leads. We’re about to cross the line.

Her forehead moves against mine. “Yes.”

And it’s all the permission I need. I grip her firmly, readjusting us so she’s straddling me.

Her. Wrapped around me. There’s no better feeling.

I tip her chin up and start trailing my mouth down her neck. Her breath hitches, and she angles her head back, arching into me.

“Oh,” she breathes.

My hands glide up her neck and grab hold of her jaw as I finally let go of the last of my resolve.

Our mouths crash together. Lips parting, tongues plunging, moving together, completely in sync.

I thought my mind had warped the memory of our first kiss, making it better than reality. But I was wrong.

Nothing beats reality. Nothing beats her.

My hands slide under her shirt, around her lower back, wandering up and down in a feather-light exploration, before coming down and grabbing onto her perfect ass. I hold it firmly, my hands flexing over her rounded cheeks. I pull her closer, forcing her to press against my growing erection.

She moans into my mouth and voluntarily grinds down.

Two seconds of some light dry humping, and I’m ready to come in my pants. My body feels like a live wire. Everywhere she touches, everywhere she is, I spark.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” she breathes, pulling her lips off mine. “Why is it so good?”

I answer by kissing her again. Deeper. Harder.

She smiles against my mouth and starts tugging at my belt.

I work on her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping faster than she can loosen my belt. I need to know how wet she is. I need to feel how wet she is.

My fingers slip into her pants, yanking aside her panties.

I sink in one finger.

So wet.

Two fingers.

So tight.

Her back arches.

Fuck, she’s soaked.

My fingers curl. The sounds of her soaking pussy encourage me to go faster.

She squirms and wiggles and sighs and moans. I eat up every sound and stroke my thumb against her clit.

“Oh, God!” Marisa’s hips jerk. A cry leaves her lips as I push in deeper, knuckles deep inside her perfect fucking pussy.

Her nails dig into my back, painfully, and I love it. I love being the reason she’s unraveling, rolling her hips as I finger-fuck her into oblivion. She’s writhing, moving uninhibited.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmur. Hooking my fingers further, I hit just the right spot. Her hips buck, and I hold her firmly around the waist, not letting her body jerk away from her building orgasm.

“Come for me. Come all over my fingers. Drench them, baby.”

She tenses and her pussy spasms, gripping my fingers like a vise. Her moans and sighs are a sweet melody to my ears.

As she comes down, I remove my fingers, unable to resist the urge to taste her on them. I’ve regretted missing out on it when we were in the truck and promised myself not to make that mistake again. She tastes like sin. Like a sweet fruit I’d gladly let be my downfall. I knew she would smell good, and I knew she would taste good, but I wasn’t quite expecting for my brain to be screaming mine the moment I got to actually do it. But fuck, does she taste like mine and smell like mine. She’s fucking mine. Now that I’ve had her like this, I can’t return to the man I was. I can’t return to what we were before we burned every line we’d ever drawn.

She goes languid in my arms, and fuck, I can’t decide which I like better. Giving her orgasms, or having the privilege to hold her afterward.

“How are you so good at that?” She moans lazily, her cheek pressed against my chest. “Actually, never mind. Don’t answer that.”

I rub up and down her back and toy with the ends of her hair. “A man knows how to work what’s his.”

She stiffens, and I worry I went too far. If only she could read my mind, she’d know my feelings for her are way past casual. She’s given me this part of herself. Her body. But I want so much more than that, and I’m not sure we’ll ever be on the same page. So I’ll happily accept the physical in hopes that she’ll get there. But I won’t hold my breath.

The tension in her body releases and she relaxes against me again. I can barely make out her eyes, but I’m positive they roll.

“I’d have a witty retort, but you’ve rendered my brain useless.”

I chuckle, giving her neck a nuzzle. “If my fingers did that, imagine what my co?—”

Her hand grips me over my pants, giving my cock a firm stroke, and it twitches so hard I’m surprised my zipper doesn’t bust. Quickly, I take her hand in mine and pull it away from my painfully hard dick.

“I want to touch you,” she protests. “It only seems fair.”

Snorting, I shake my head. “We’re not keeping score. You don’t owe me a hand job.”

“It’s not about keeping score. I want you to feel good, too.” She pauses a beat and places a soft kiss on my neck. “And who said anything about a hand job? I want you in my mouth.”

Jesus Christ.

I’m not strong enough.

“You’re killing me,” I grit.

She giggles and then sneaks her hand back to my belt, her dainty fingers working at it much rougher than I thought possible. My dick, with a mind of his own, stands at full attention for her.

I should stop her. I don’t want this moment to be about me. But my resolve is gone.

Her hand edges my boxer briefs before sliding inside.

“Holy shit,” she exclaims, causing my brain to short-circuit as she wraps her hand around my cock. “I knew you were decently sized, but I didn’t know you were this big.”

My ego inflates tenfold.

“I hate to break it to you,” she says, as if I can concentrate on her words when she’s pumping my cock. “But there’s no way this thing is fitting inside of my mouth.” She brushes her thumb over the tip, spreading around my bead of pre-cum.

“We could skip your mouth and go straight for your pussy,” I joke. Which I immediately regret, because I shouldn’t push my luck.

She laughs. “Definitely not fitting in there.”

Oh, it’ll fit.

This tease of a woman is going to be the death of me. I grab her, cupping her face, and kiss her roughly. She moans into my mouth, pumping my cock faster.

I’m so close to coming. I should be embarrassed that I’ll blow my load faster than I think I ever have before, but I don’t give a single fuck. I’ve wanted Marisa for so long, my body has been primed for her, just waiting to be touched by her and only her.

Metal panels rattle together at the far end of the cellar. Marisa throws herself off me, and I swiftly tuck my dick back in my pants. Slowly, the cellar fills with light as each panel of the roll-up door moves up the track.

In the darkness, it felt like we were in a haven, separated from the real world, but as the harsh light descends, reality sets in. Marisa is working on adjusting and smoothing her clothes, erasing all evidence of me. She finger-combs her hair and swipes her thumb along the edges of her lips. She won’t even look at me.

Fuck.

“Gavin to the rescue!” Gavin shouts as he walks through the opening.

Marisa scrambles out of my shirt, tossing it at me as she steps away, putting a noticeable gap between us. She may as well be somewhere else entirely. When Gavin gets close enough to see us, there’s no mistaking how we look. Marisa can try to hide the evidence, but it’s obvious what we were doing.

He makes eye contact with me, wearing a shit-eating grin.

Definitely obvious.

“I guess it’s time to put the man-door in that we’ve been discussing for years, huh?”

“Seems like it,” I agree absentmindedly.

We walk out, and my eyes squint from the harsh daylight. It’s a cloudy, dull day, but I still need some time for my vision to adjust. I look at Marisa, and she’s using her hand to shield some of the light away from her eyes.

“What caused the power outage?” she asks Gavin.

He shrugs, shaking his head. “Probably a blown transformer like I said, but it’s not just us. The whole mountain is without power.”

It’s a cool forty degrees with a northern breeze that chills right to the bone. And it’s only going to get colder once the sun goes down.

“I should head back,” Marisa states, already on the rounded path that leads back up to the winery.

I look at Gavin and nudge my head, indicating to give us some privacy. He bites his lip, holding back a laugh. Motherfucker. I’m never going to hear the end of this. But he does at least have the decency to turn around and walk the few hundred yards back to his truck.

“Marisa, wait,” I call out.

She’s already walked surprisingly far, so I do a half-jog to catch up to her.

She pauses, turning to me with a cheery smile. “What’s up?”

She’s going to try to pretend nothing happened.

Yeah, fuck that. Without hesitation, I pull her toward me and crash my lips to hers. She tenses for a split second before parting her mouth and letting me in. I try to tell her what I can’t seem to vocalize.

I devour her, demanding her surrender. And she gives it, melting into me. I groan, gripping her harder, rougher.

Anyone could walk by and see us. And I don’t care. Let them see. But I know if I don’t stop now, I’m going to push her too far.

I pull away. Her eyes are dazed, lips puffy, cheeks pink. Fucking beautiful.

“We’ll finish this later.”