Page 102 of Rafferty's Rules
‘It’s sweet, light. The fragrance in the air is like fruit you can’t define. It’s kind of beautiful and fleeting. It never satiates. It’s gone before you’re ready, and leaves you aching for more.’
The way he’s looking at me, his words? Is he only talking about flowering vines, or is he talking about us?
‘Come on.’ He moves the conversation along, indicating it’s my turn to attempt to identify the aromas. ‘What can you smell in the bouquet?’
I raise the glass to my nose. What I can smell is wine, and no matter how much he tries to cultivate my knowledge or how much I try to fudge the facts, the reality is I can only ever smell wine. Red, white, or rosé, it’s all the same to this nose.
I try not to sigh as he nods encouragingly. I wonder if Amber has cultivated an understanding of the wine business while living here?Whatever, she’s a lucky girl.
Heck, here goes.
As I inhale, I close my eyes.
‘I detect notes of future bad decisions. A hint of flashing my underwear.’ I crack one lid, emboldened by his sardonic grin. ‘A suggestion of memory loss ... and a soupçon of regret.’
‘You can’t regret flashing your underwear,’ he says, his voice oh-so reasonable with an edge of something else. Something darker and persuasive. Something devilish.
‘Well, as you know, I don’t have a lot of them to flash.’
‘So long as you’re only flashing them to me these days.’
‘For the next few days,’ I add. I blink away from his pressing gaze, glad of the clouds outside aiding the dim lighting to hide the glitter of my tears. Then I throw back the inch of wine, smacking my lips together as though proclaiming it my favourite.
‘That’s not tasting.’ He sounds more entertained than anything else now. Amused by the things I’ll do to distract myself from reality.
‘And that’s not a glass of wine.’ Arm straight, I hold it out to him. ‘Fill ’er up.’
That’s what she said. With her eyes, anyway.
He picks the bottle up, the sound of the liquid glugging into the glass holding my attention until my gaze wanders to his hand. To those long fingers and strong wrist. His tanned forearm. I no longer see the wine bottle, or the glass. Just the veins in his arm standing to attention, my insides beginning to pulse at the almost overwhelming memory of them thrusting and curling inside.
‘Lis?’
‘Hmm?’ My eyes snap to his and I blink rapidly, trying to rid myself of the lustful haze.
‘You okay?’
‘Yes. Fine. I just zoned out for a minute.’
His thumb circling my clit.
‘Where’d you go?’ he asks, his voice dropping in tone.
His mouth on my neck, his hardness digging into my hip.
‘Nowhere special.’ Taking a deep breath, I raise the glass as though examining its contents.
‘You’re sure?’
My insides throbbing for more.
‘Absolutely.’ I squeeze my thighs together to ease the deep empty ache.
‘You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?’Lye-in.How is that even sexy?
‘Fine.’ I throw back half the contents of the glass and turn to him. ‘I was thinking about you, okay?’
‘Thinking about me how?’
