Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

“To hate you?” She scoffed. “Not likely.”

As if to call her bluff, a loud whistle went off and the train lurched forward, sending Natalie crashing into August’s chest, her butt sliding neatly into his lap, where she was galled to find that it fit like a glove. He hissed in a breath, his hand leaving her back in order to grip the edge of the velvet chair. “Look, might as well warn you, I’m going to get hard.”

“Seriously?” His fly swelled beneath her bottom rapidly, turning her skin flush. Not excited. She was not excited. Maybe if she kept repeating those words, they would become true. “Been a while?”

“Ten minutes or ten years celibate, I’d still be hard with that butt in position for a good time, Natalie. But, yeah, since we’re on the subject, it’s been a while. You?”

She couldn’t quite hide her surprise that he’d admitted a dry spell out loud. Surprised enough to speak her own truth without thinking. “Yes. You were supposed to be my rebound.”

“Rebound from what?” he asked sharply, his chest muscles hardening against her.

That’s right. He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? “I was engaged.” She strove to keep her tone light. “In New York. Now I’m not.”

It took several moments for him to process that, a veritable canyon forming between his eyebrows. “Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Not right now.”

Those long fingers flexed on her back. “Is he still in the picture?”

“No.” For some reason, she felt compelled to look him in the eye and impress her answer on him. “No. You and I just got engaged, August. Obviously he’s not.”

Relief seemed to make his pupils expand. “Good.”

“Good?”

Several seconds ticked by wherein she found herself studying the indent in the center of his bottom lip. The stubble appearing just over the firmer top one. And why was there something . . . annoyingly sexy about her feet not touching the ground while sitting in his lap? “That’s what I said. Good,” he repeated, something flickering in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to have to fend off any competition for my fake fiancée, right?”

“Right.” That tiny sink of disappointment she felt was incredibly unhealthy. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that.”

A muscle snapped in his cheek. “Good.”

“Stop saying ‘good.’”

“Great.” Tension coiled between them like a copper spring and she couldn’t quite place a finger on the source. Arousal—his, not hers—was the obvious answer, but there seemed to be something more. She was being challenged in some way, though, that much was obvious. August had leaned in, bringing his mouth within an inch of hers. They were completely shielded from the rest of the train car. Napa danced by in all its rich, sunset-drenched splendor, vineyard vines threading toward rolling hills and fading sunlight, but she was barely aware of any of it. Only this man’s breath on her mouth and his strength surrounding her. “Just so we’re clear, Natalie, I wouldn’t have any problem fending off some city boy in loafers.”

Please tell me that my vaginal walls did not flex in response to that. “Jesus. Leave it to you to have a pissing contest with someone you’ve never met.”

Why was she breathing so fast?

Her words tripped over themselves on the way out and he only moved closer, his hand opening wide on her hip and squeezing, his lips making the barest contact with hers. “Rebound, huh?”

“Is that what you’re mad about?”

“Who said I’m mad?”

“Your face.”

Their lips were all but flush now. “Maybe I’m just pissed I missed my chance to help you move on from your broken engagement.”

“I have moved on.”

“Prove it, princess.” Ever so briefly, his tongue touched the seam of her mouth and fingers of lust raked up her inner thighs. “Convince this train full of your fellow wine snobs that you’re dying to walk down the aisle with me.”

Bastard. “To this day, no one in St. Helena has ever beaten my record for shots taken at a party. Sixteen shots, August. I should by all accounts be dead. Before me, the record stood at fifteen.”

“Proud of you, girl, but why are you telling me this?”

“So you understand that I don’t lose. Not when I’m challenged.”

A rumble went off in his chest. “Getting that mouth on mine won’t be a loss.”

Slowly, she wound his tie around her fist and used her body to guide him back into the dark interior of the Lovers’ Nest chair, turning so her breasts were pressed high to his chest. “Are you sure about that?”

“Sure as I’ve ever been about anything,” August said with confidence.

But when she twisted a little in his lap, he gulped.

“Fuck” was the last thing he said before Natalie settled her mouth over his and kissed him in a way that was pure foreplay. Wet lips dragged right to left, teasing, showing him what her mouth could do elsewhere. And based on the rigid rise of his erection under her butt, he was definitely thinking about it. A lot. She framed his bristled jaw with her right hand and tugged his chin down, opening his mouth, giving her the access to lick deep, once, twice, three times, leisurely and savoring, tasting his hearty groan and feeling his muscles tense to the point of snapping. “I see what you’re doing now,” he uttered between kisses. “You’re going to get me hot and leave me hanging, aren’t you?”

“Congratulations,” she panted. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

He tilted her chin up, glazed eyes looking down at her. “You’re underestimating how much I love a challenge, too, princess.”

She would not be making that mistake again.

Before she knew what was happening, August’s fingers slid up into her hair and fisted a thick bunch of it, using his grip to tilt back her head. Expose her neck. And then . . . oh. Oh God. His teeth and the tip of his tongue and his lips moved like a sensual trio up the curve of her throat, then over to the right. To a spot behind her ear that had her toes spreading so quickly, one of her heels fell to the floor with a thwack.

“I can’t believe you waited until we’re on a train full of people to kiss me again.” His teeth closed around the shell of her ear and razed up and down, up and down. “Maybe you did it on purpose because you know exactly what we’d be doing if we were alone.”

“Fighting?”

“Fucking.” He licked a circle behind her ear, traced a path back to her mouth, and suctioned her lips into a hard kiss. “But I’d start with two fingers in deep between your legs and I’d keep them there until you’re wet enough to take it hard.”

More vaginal flexing. Accompanied by a soft moan she tried to disguise with a cough.

Fooling no one.

The tables were quickly being turned.

She could see him in her mind’s eye, moving roughly on top of her in a mess of bedding, her ankles locked behind his big, flexing back. They would be agitated and sweaty and trying to outdo each other and it would be mind-blowing, but she would regret it afterward. Giving in to this man who thought she was nothing more than a spoiled brat.

Time to regain the upper hand.

“Maybe I’d be giving instead of taking,” she murmured, dragging a finger down the front of his shirt and toying with his belt buckle, reveling in the way his breath stuttered. “It might be so good you wouldn’t even make it to home base.”

“Princess, if I had to slide home on a bed of razor blades, I’d make it to that base with you.” He bit off a sound. “Stop moving that tight ass, or I swear to God . . .”

“What?” She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and rotated her hips, enjoying the privilege of watching his eyes glaze over. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Cry, probably.”

A laugh hopscotched out of her. A genuine giggle at his strained admission.

Eyes closed, he smiled against her mouth.

Something unexpected leapt in Natalie’s chest and her lips paused in the act of teasing him into another kiss. What the heck was that? Under no circumstances should anything be happening in the place between her brain and her vagina. He’d been ready to leave town. He would have left town if it wasn’t for her offer to help him secure a loan. He’d pegged her as a spoiled rich girl. They weren’t even in a real relationship, yet he’d already firmly rejected everything about her. It would be a waste of time and energy trying to prove him wrong. Especially when their potential arrangement was founded on the release of her very healthy trust fund.

She’d be wasting her breath.

“Come back here,” he rasped, studying her. “Torture me. I can take it.”

Get up. She needed to get up.