Author: Bella Andre

“Please,” she begged, “I need—” She bit her lip on another moan as he came almost to the tip, then backed away and ran his finger down in the hollow between her breasts.

He paused his hand there, right in the center of her chest, where her heart was beating so hard for him, then leaned forward before she could get her brain to kick into gear, and kissed her softly.

Thoroughly.

Possessively.

The hairs on his chest teased her breasts, driving her even crazier than she already was.

And then, before she could shift or blink or beg, he lowered his head and took one into his mouth. She needed to lower her arms so that she could steady herself by holding on to him, so that she could grip the back of his head and hold him there—oh yes, right there!—while he gave her the pleasure she’d been craving.

Everything narrowed down onto the lash of his tongue upon her, the coiling heat inside her belly, his warm breath against her chest. Chloe lost all track of time as he laved her breasts, as he loved every inch of her torso—the peaks, the curves, the hollows, the shadowy undersides, the spaces between her ribs. And then he was moving lower still, dropping to his knees, holding her waist with his large, strong hands, holding her there for him to devour.

His tongue and lips and teeth held no mercy as he destroyed her soul, knocking down her defenses one inch of skin at a time.

And then he was nudging her legs open wider, before covering her with his mouth, and she was holding onto him for dear life, knowing she’d never live through this pleasure, that it was too big, too all-encompassing, far too sweet to be real.

To be hers.

She thought she heard the words, “You taste like heaven,” and then his tongue was going deeper, replacing his fingers inside of her, sending her rocketing off into another impossible orgasm.

Her legs began to crumple but he was already there, holding her steady.

Not letting her fall.

Later she would let herself marvel at the fact that she’d been standing stark naked at a public winery with a man’s face between her legs, crying out so loud that anyone on the property could surely hear. And had to know exactly what was going on.

But now, tonight, how could she possibly care about any of that? Not when all that mattered was pleasure.

No. That wasn’t what mattered. Not really.

It was Chase.

He was what mattered.

The thought nailed her straight in the center of her heart just as he shifted, standing up. His hands were still on her hips when he kissed her. She tasted herself on his lips, but more than that, she tasted him. Tasted his hunger. Tasted his need.

Tasted just how much he cared about her.

Loved her.

She wanted to pull away from that truth, from him, from her past, from her own fear, but even if he hadn’t chosen that moment to say, “Turn around for me, lovely girl,” even if his hands hadn’t been helping her do just that, she wouldn’t have had a chance in hell of leaving him just then.

He had her, body and soul.

And not just because of the orgasms.

Moments later, she was facing the moonlit vineyard and he was placing her hands on the rails. “Hold on,” he said softly, seductively. “And don’t let go.”

She wanted to think he was talking about the rail, but she knew what he really meant.

He wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to believe that his love could be enough to change her life.

Tears rushed her even as her arousal spiked higher than ever before at nothing more than the sound of Chase ripping open the condom wrapper.

“You’re even more lovely like this than I knew you would be.”

She turned her head, a light breeze taking her hair with it as she looked at him over her shoulder. “Chase.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, so hot and hard she could hardly believe it. “I love you, Chloe.”

She held her breath, waiting for the moment when he drove into her, when he stretched open not just her body, but her heart, too.

But he remained still, his eyes on hers.

“Always.”

She gasped at the word, gasped again as he began to enter her.

“Forever.”

Her head fell forward, hung down as she gripped the rails and took what he was giving her, as she pushed back against him just as hard. His hands moved from her hips up over her waist as he took her, and soon, his palms were full of her aroused flesh.

Never. She’d never done anything this decadent. This depraved. This delicious.

This beautiful.

She’d made this plan to have sex outside to make sure things stayed purely physical. Entirely on the surface.

It should have been impossible for them to deepen their connection while having sex standing up, out on a balcony. It should have been inconceivable that she would feel even closer to him while he had her bent over the rail with her breasts in his hands while he was thrusting hard, deep, into her.

If ever there was an act that should be just sex, it was this, a man and woman who had been perfect strangers just days ago, rutting like animals.

And yet...

Somehow it was beautiful. So beautiful that her eyes were damp.

And her heart was fuller than it had ever been.

In perfect unison, he pinched the tip of one breast at the same moment he slid the fingers of his other hand between her legs.

And she shattered.

* * *

Chase lifted Chloe into his arms and carried her back inside the bedroom. Her eyes were closed and as she blinked to try to open them, he pressed a kiss on one eyelid.

“Shhh.”

A kiss for the other.

“Time for bed.”

She snuggled in tighter to him, his exhausted sex kitten.

Again and again, she amazed him.

Humbled him.

Her playfulness, her willingness to take a risk despite her past...he wasn’t sure she realized that she was showing him all those things out on the balcony.

He knew she’d wanted to prove to him that she could play in the “just sex” big leagues. Instead, she’d trusted him—trusted herself—with something different. Daring.

Sex in the bathtub had been mind-blowing.

Sex on the balcony, watching her grip the rails so hard her knuckles turned white, watching as she gave up control and bucked against his hips to drive him deeper inside...there wasn’t a word for what that had done to him.

Well, maybe there was.

“Love.” He whispered it against her cheek, felt her stir slightly, even though she was almost out.

He would have been perfectly happy if the only place they ever had sex was in bed. Well, not perfectly happy, but the fact was, regular sex with Chloe was a million times better than crazy sex with anyone else.

Only, the truth was that Chloe was a woman who liked—who needed, who craved—adventure. He wasn’t sure she realized it yet. But he did. And he wanted to live those adventures with her. Beside her. Within her.

He laid her down on the bed, her head upon the pillow, and when she didn’t loosen her hold on him—even half-asleep, she couldn’t fight what they had together—he slid beneath the soft sheets with her. She immediately shifted to curl against him in the way they’d slept the past two nights: her back to his front, her hips cradled against his perpetual erection. She pulled his arms around her like a blanket and settled deeper into his arms with a contented sigh.

Lovely.

His.

Chapter Thirteen

One more day.

One more night.

Chloe had twenty-four hours left to be with Chase in this fairy tale. She wanted each of those hours, those precious minutes, to last forever, knew that she would be counting them down until the buzzer rang and she left.

She needed to leave. Because, as she’d told him last night, she needed to do this on her own.

Didn’t she?

All day, as she’d worked with everyone, as she’d gone to check on Alice and found her much improved in her hotel room, Chloe had gone around and around with it in her head.

At first, it had been easy to tell herself she needed to keep her distance from Chase because men were all evil.

Which had turned out to be completely laughable. Because while her ex was certainly unhinged, Chase didn’t have an evil bone in his body. In a million years, she’d never have thought she’d find a guy like him on the side of the road in the middle of a hailstorm, on what she’d thought was the worst night of her life.

She shouldn’t believe he could have fallen in love with her. Not in only three days.

She shouldn’t be replaying that moment when he’d said, “I love you. Always. Forever,” over and over.

Lost in her troubled thoughts, her hands stilled on the lace of the corset she was tying for Amanda.

“Do you need me to suck in tighter?”

Chloe frowned. Suck in tighter? What could Amanda possibly have to suck in? “No. You’re perfect just like that.”

Amanda looked down at herself. “I’m getting fat.”

“No!” In the back of her mind she knew she needed to back off, calm down. But she’d spent too many years listening to Dean say that to her. She couldn’t stand to hear Amanda say it about herself. “You’re beautiful, Amanda.”

But although she could see that the girl enjoyed the compliment, she didn’t truly believe it.

As the model walked away, Chloe wanted so badly for her to believe in her own beauty. In her own worth. She wanted to save her from years of self-hatred. From bad relationships. From men who weren’t worthy of even a minute of her time...let alone years.

She felt her lover’s eyes on her and his pull was so strong that she couldn’t stop herself from staring back and suddenly wondering, yet again, was that what she was to him? Was she simply a woman he was desperate to save because he was a protector to his core?

No. She knew better than to think that. Especially when he’d never done one single thing to try and take her power away.

Instead, hadn’t he given her the tools to empower herself? Hadn’t he asked her to use her talents, her skills, to create beauty? To grow stronger?

And then, like a ton of bricks raining down from the perfectly blue sky, the real truth of the matter hit her: It wasn’t Chase that thought he needed to save her, to coddle her so that she never had to face danger again.

She’d been doing that all by herself.

Hiding out here at the winery, not picking up the damn phone and calling the police, not forcing herself to face the fact that she was going to have to find a way to protect herself from Dean once she was out on her own again.

It was just what she’d done in her marriage. She’d hidden from the truth of how bad it was because it had seemed so much more painful to deal with the truth.

Standing in the middle of the vineyard with Chase’s eyes still on her, she knew he didn’t deserve to be dragged into her mess. And until she could be worthy of him by knowing how to stand on her own two feet, she couldn’t be with him.

Just then, Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” started blaring from the portable MP3 player and Amanda dragged her over to the group, who had all started dancing in their beautiful silk dresses.

Chloe had always loved to dance, loved to feel her limbs, her muscles, grow loose and warm. The sun was still in the sky, pouring down over them, and when the rubber band around her hair fell out she let it go, shaking her hair to let it move around her face.

As she danced, as Sara grabbed her hips and shimmied into her, Chloe could almost pretend again that the past ten years had never happened. Yes, she’d been hiding out from reality, but getting to be with Chase and the models and his crew these past few days had done so much to strip away the layers she’d never wanted to be there in the first place.

Yes, she knew this feeling of freedom, of joy, was only temporary, knew that trouble was waiting for her outside of the fantasy of this vine-covered world, but she still had a few more hours of joy left, didn’t she?

* * *

“She really is pretty.”