Page 118 of Seven Minutes
Like a fine wine.
When we finally broke apart, he rested his mouth near my ear, breathing softly.
“I don’t ever want to lose this,” he whispered.
“You’re not going to. We built something solid this time.”
I stood there, forcing myself still while his tongue teased my lobe. My dick had grown as hard as the wooden stakes supporting the heavy vines. I considered pulling him down inthe secluded row and stripping off my pants, but the last time we’d done that was twelve years ago. I much preferred a soft bed now.
On our way back to the terrace, we passed a small guest book on a stand—a simple wooden frame with a pen attached by twine.
I paused. Adrian raised a brow.
“Want to sign it?” he asked.
“Yeah, but… not with our names.”
He watched as I wrote instead:
Two halves, mended and matched. Stronger together. See you next year.
He read it, swallowed hard, then pressed a kiss just under my ear.
“Perfect,” he murmured.
After a relaxed dinner of stuffed grape leaves and couscous, accompanied by a seasonal fruit and cheese platter, we enjoyed another glass of wine on the terrace of our room, overlooking the fields below. I felt loose and warm and happy. The sun had slipped behind the hills, leaving streaks of violet and navy smeared across the horizon. Fireflies blinked lazily between the rows of vines. The air smelled of earth and lavender and the lingering sweetness of the wine resting in my glass.
Adrian sat sideways in his chair, one ankle hooked over his knee, studying me instead of the view. I could feel his gaze touch my face.
The wine probably wasn’t helping my self-control. Neitherwas the way he looked in that soft golden dusk: shirt undone two buttons deeper than usual, throat exposed, hair tousled by the breeze. A younger version of me would have tried to play it cool.
Twelve years of marriage had cured me of that.
I slid my chair closer, letting my knee brush his. “You’re staring.”
“Observing,” he said, pretending to be studious when he was very much not. “Documenting. Appreciating.”
“Mm-hm.” I swung a leg over his lap and settled there, straddling him. “And what exactly are you appreciating?”
His hands found my hips immediately, an unconscious gesture that spoke of how familiar we’d become and the need we shared.
“All of this.”
His voice had dropped dangerously low, and it made my breath hitch no matter how many times I heard it.
It was crazy to think that after more than a decade together, we could fall in love a second time. Maybe not, though, since I never really stopped loving him.
He reached out and slid his fingers along my jaw, tracing the path they’d taken a thousand times when we were younger, when things were both simpler and harder. His gaze touched on my mouth.
“You look peaceful,” he murmured.
“I feel it,” I admitted. “Shockingly.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’ll take shockingly. That’s progress.”
I leaned into his hand, letting my eyes drift half-shut. “Pretty sure the wine helped.”
“That’s fine.” His voice dropped lower, warmer. “I’m not above using terroir to seduce you.”
