Grayson's Vow (92)
But we had time. There was no need to rush.
When the hour was decent enough, or sometimes when it wasn’t, we’d retire to our bed where we spent long nights making love. I learned things about Grayson that made him go wild with passion, discovered ways to use my body and my mouth that caused him to let go of some of that control he always seemed to carry. And I allowed him to know me too, more deeply and intimately than anyone had before. With every moan, every masculine gasp of breath, every trembling caress, Grayson reassured me that Cooper had been wrong—I brought joy and satisfaction in bed. Cooper’s actions were the result of his own twisted morals or unexplained emptiness or whatever but had nothing to do with me.
When we went into town for dinner a couple times, several people who had been at the party approached us to say hello, and Grayson was warm and personable. It was almost as if I was watching the cold demeanor he’d adopted slide off him in large pieces. Of course, there were still those who eyed him cautiously, but that would just take time. I’d put my mind to work coming up with some other ideas, I told him. He just laughed and said he was sure I would.
One morning, a couple weeks after the party, I decided to take Sugar Pie and stroll through the vineyards. All this time and I hadn’t walked the rows of the plants I constantly admired as a distant view. The day had a slight chill to it, though the sun was shining brightly—fall was in the air. Soon, this fruit would be harvested and the real work at Hawthorn Vineyard would begin. I inhaled a deep breath of the crisp, earth-scented air tinged with sweet, ripening grapes. Sugar Pie snuffled at the ground, exploring the things interesting to a dog’s nose. Grayson had said he was mostly prepared for the upcoming harvest. He had some hiring to do, but other than that, the equipment was all in working order and ready to go.
That couldn’t have made me happier—our plan had worked. The vineyard was primed for success where it wouldn’t have been without my gram’s money. I stared out blindly at the vines of fruit, chewing on my lip. This morning, I was troubled. There was something very worrisome about the accounting files Walter had given me. I didn’t want to admit even to myself what I thought I’d figured out, but the more I went over them, the more certain I was becoming. And I didn’t know what to do.
“You look deep in thought.”
I whirled around, bringing my hand to my mouth and laughing as Grayson swooped me into his arms. “How’d you find me here?” I asked as he pressed his lips to my throat. “I thought I was properly hidden from you.”
“You can never hide from me. I’ll always sniff you out.” Then he placed his nose to my throat and started sniffing around like an overeager dog. Or dragon. I squealed, laughing at the feeling of his breath tickling my skin and then pushed him away as he laughed too.
“And here I went to so much trouble to plot and scheme so I might get you alone somewhere hidden and do all sorts of dirty, dragonish things to your body.”
I laughed. “Haven’t you done enough of that already?”
“Never.” He turned and it was then I spotted the basket, which he picked up and brought over to where I was standing. He glanced around, setting his sights on a small grassy area in a warm spot of direct sunlight. Then he opened the basket and removed a large quilt and spread it out. Grayson turned to Sugar Pie, who was sniffing something nearby. “Give us some privacy, Sugar Pie. Go chase a mouse or something.” Sugar Pie chuffed, moving on to a grapevine farther down the row, avoiding the fruit as she’d been trained.
“You have been plotting,” I noted. “What is this about?”
“This,” he said, sitting down and tapping a spot next to him, “is about teaching you to recognize the different grapes. Come here.”
I joined him, sitting next to him on the quilt.
“If you’re going to be the proper wife of a winemaker, you need to know about the variety of grapes we grow so when people ask, you can answer them with knowledge and confidence.”
“Ah.” I attempted to open the basket, but he snapped it closed, making me laugh.
“Patience, little witch. First, I’ll need you to undress.”
I raised a brow. “This lesson requires nudity?”
“As all good lessons do. Obviously,” he said, the glint of dragonish devilry in his dark eyes. My heart flipped, and my feminine muscles clenched at his blatant masculine beauty. And God, I loved when his dragonish side came out.
“It’s a little chilly for nudity, don’t you think?”
“I’ll keep you warm. Promise.”
I laughed softly but obeyed, removing my long-sleeved T-shirt, kicking off my shoes, and unbuttoning the top button on my jeans. I lay back and Grayson held the bottoms and tugged them off. No one had ever studied me quite so intently, and under the bright light of the sun and I was tempted to feel insecure, but by the pure appreciation on his face, I let that go.
“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he murmured. He leaned in, feathering his lips down my throat and then whispering in my ear. “I once thought to myself that when I made love to you, I’d always want to do it in the light so I could see every vibrant part of you—this beautiful, richly colored hair.” He picked up a strand and let it fall through his fingers. “Emerald eyes…”
“Grayson,” I murmured, dragging my fingers through his dark hair as my body relaxed, heated under the blanket of his warmth. He went up on his knees momentarily and removed his T-shirt and then leaned forward to unsnap my bra. It fell to the side, and he brought the straps down my arms, his eyes lingering on my nipples, hardening immediately in the crisp air.