“Because I want to hear you say it,” he said. “I want to think about it. Later.”
She shouldn’t do this. She knew she shouldn’t. But that last thing he said broke her. God, she wanted him to think about her later.
“I want you,” she said.
He kissed her, hard and fast, just like she wanted him to kiss her. His hand slid into her hair, and she gloried in the feeling of his hands on her, his lips on hers, again, finally. She reached for him, pulled him closer, kissed him harder, moaned into his mouth as he kissed her back.
“My God, Margot,” he said.
He brushed his hand over her hair, her cheek, with such reverence. She reveled in his touch.
No. She had to stop this.
She made herself pull away. He immediately stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t going to do that. I shouldn’t have done that. But holy shit.”
She let out a breath and moved farther away from him.
“I wanted you to do that,” she said. “I wanted that. But we can’t do it again.”
“I know,” he said. “But—”
She shook her head.
“Go.”
He looked away from her, finally. He opened the door and walked out of her office.
She almost stumbled to her desk, sat down on her chair, and dropped her head into her hands. She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her body, of his lips on hers. And the worst part was, she didn’t want that feeling to go away.
Ten
LUKE LEANED HIS HEAD against the cold tile of his shower, still breathing hard.
Why had he told her to say that?
All he could hear—all he’d been able to hear for the past three hours—was her voice, throaty and hoarse and full of longing, telling him she wanted him.
He’d heard it all afternoon at the winery as he tried to juggle three overlapping appointments, while glancing at the staff door every thirty seconds to see if she’d walked through it. He’d heard it when she eventually did walk through the door, when he was in the middle of checking out a group and all of their wine, and so couldn’t look at her. He’d heard it when he finally looked at her, to find her talking to other people and very definitely not looking at him. He’d heard it when Elliot had walked into the tasting room at five thirty and told him he’d take care of locking up, since Margot had an appointment and had left early.
And he’d heard it the whole way home, where he’d immediately jumped in the shower and let himself think about her with abandon, how it had felt to be that close to her again, how it had felt to kiss her and have her respond so passionately. He’d let himself revel in it, in her smooth hands on his skin, her body against his as his own hands moved faster and faster on his cock. And when he came, too fast, he just wished she were there with him.
Fuck. What was he going to do now? Should he quit?
What, and just find another winery job somewhere, to keep up this pretense with his mom that he was up here to date Avery?
He laughed at himself. That wasn’t the real reason he wouldn’t quit. He didn’t want to quit. If he did, he wouldn’t get to see Margot all day at work. Even though it killed him to see her and not be able to touch her.
And Margot would be pissed if he quit, he knew that. Noble was understaffed right now—if he hadn’t been there today, Margot would have had to cover all of that herself. No matter how much she wanted him, she cared a lot more about the winery than she did about fucking him. If he quit just because he wanted to be able to fuck her again, he probably wouldn’t even get to do that.
Well, he couldn’t tell Avery about this, that was for sure. Avery had already mocked him mercilessly for sleeping with Margot, and there was no way he could claim that he’d accidentally kissed her. No, that kiss had been very purposeful.
Plus, Avery knew Margot, which he hadn’t known when he’d told her about the first time. He couldn’t do that to Margot.
He turned off the water and cringed at himself for how much he’d wasted. He couldn’t find another way to release his frustration, in the middle of a drought?
He got dressed, sat down on the couch, and then immediately jumped up to look in the fridge. No, nothing had magically appeared in there since the day before.
Okay, fine, that was something to do with this night that suddenly stretched out too long and empty before him. He would go find dinner.
He walked down the stairs and toward his car, then changed course just as he reached for the door handle. No, he’d driven enough today. He wanted to walk.
He didn’t even realize where he was going until he stopped in front of the Barrel. He shouldn’t go in. He’d seen her afterward, with that bartender. They were clearly friends. Margot must go there all the time. But . . .
He stood there, his hand on the door for a few seconds, then took a step back and turned away.
“Good decision,” a voice behind him said.
He turned. The bartender. Of course. She was actually the owner of this place, right. She looked at him with an amused, but severe, expression on her face.
He didn’t even pretend not to know what she was talking about.
“Yeah. I guess so. I thought it would be better if I didn’t come in, just in case she was there.”
She kept her eyes on him.
“But you thought about it.”
He sighed.
“Yeah. I thought about it. I—” He shook his head. What was he even doing? “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t be having this conversation.”
She laughed, and opened the door.
“What conversation?”
He turned to walk down the street.
“Luke.”
He looked back. She was out on the sidewalk.
“Go to Fork in the Road—two blocks that way. Great bar, excellent steak, very good burger. Tell them Sydney sent you.”
He felt like he’d won her approval, somehow.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll do that.”
The steak was excellent, the bourbon was poured with a heavy hand—he was pretty sure because of Sydney’s name, which he’d dropped—and he didn’t even glance at the people sitting next to him at the bar. He knew they weren’t Margot.
* * *
MARGOT FELT LIKE A coward as she drove away from the winery that day. A coward and a failure. She’d gone out the back door of the winery and then called Elliot from her car to tell him she had a meeting and he needed to lock up. That first part was true, she did have a meeting that night, but there was plenty of time for it; she didn’t have to leave early. But on the other hand, she absolutely had to leave early. She’d waited until the last two people of the day were already in the tasting room, and she’d overheard enough to be sure Luke could handle it on his own, but still. If she’d been strong, if she’d had courage, she would have stayed, gone into the tasting room after it was closed for the day, locked up after Luke had left. But then, if she’d been strong, she wouldn’t have allowed anything that went on that day in her office between her and Luke to happen.
She could have stopped it. Luke would have moved away with a single word from her, the slightest sign. She knew that, the whole time. And she hadn’t done a thing. She—eventually—did stop it, but that wasn’t a comfort. It was the literal least she could do.
And here she was proving Elliot right. Along with the rest of her family, and everyone who had ever doubted that she was good enough, dedicated enough, committed enough to run this winery. She was risking all of this for a guy? And not even a guy she was in an actual relationship with, or who even seemed to want to be in an actual relationship with her, but a guy she’d had a one-night stand with, and now couldn’t stop thinking about?
Granted, it was gratifying to know that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, either. She grinned, even though she knew she shouldn’t be smiling about this. It was really gratifying. But that didn’t get her anywhere. She couldn’t risk her winery just for more good sex.