We sit, sipping the wine Sylvie insisted we try—an earthy Bandol rosé that tastes like strawberries and secrets.
He tells me more about Daniel.I tell him more about growing up on boats, homeschooled by hippie parents who thought geography should be learned by anchor and tide.
“Sounds like freedom,” he murmurs.
“Sometimes it was.Sometimes it was chaos.”I take another sip.“But it always felt like love.”
There’s a long pause before he speaks again, his voice low.“That’s what I want for Isla.I just… don’t always know how.”
“You’re doing better than you think.She adores you.”
He looks at me then—really looks—and I swear the whole world hushes.
“She adoresyou,” he says, quiet but certain.“And I’m starting to see why.”
I don’t breathe for a second.
Then I lean in.And so does he.
The kiss starts soft.
But there’s nothing soft about what follows.
His mouth devours mine with a hunger that’s been building for weeks, and suddenly we’re on our feet, hands in each other’s hair, against each other’s bodies, until the tension snaps and he pulls back, breathless.
“Come here,” he growls, taking my hand and leading me toward the far end of the terrace, where a long, cushioned bench sits in shadow beneath the vines.
Before I can blink, he’s lifting me, setting me down gently, his mouth already on my neck.
“Roarke—” I gasp, head tilting back as he kisses a path from my jaw to my collarbone.
“Shh.”His fingers trail down my thighs, pushing up the hem of my dress.“Let me take care of you.”
He sinks to his knees like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like worship—and spreads me open with careful hands.
I gasp as the night air brushes against my bare skin.
“Oh my God…”
But then his mouth is on me and I forget how to speak entirely.
He starts slow—deliberate.Teasing.His tongue moves—circling, stroking, savoring, like he’s memorizing me.Like he’s learning what undoes me just to do it again.
“Fuck, Mia,” he murmurs against me, voice low and gritty.“You taste like summer.”
I moan, hips arching into him.My fingers curl into his thick hair, fastening me to the only thing keeping me from flying apart.
He licks and sucks, groans deep when I moan his name, and when he slides two fingers inside me, curving just right, I come apart like a wave crashing against the Riviera cliffs.
Hard.Loud.Shaking with the force of it.
Stars blur above me.My vision goes white.
He holds me through it—his hands strong, his mouth soft against my thigh, kissing me gently as I catch my breath.
When I open my eyes, he’s looking up at me like I’ve undone him, too.
“We shouldn’t have—“ I stop.“That was definitely?—“
