Gripping my thigh, he lifts one leg over his shoulder, opening me up to him. The cool air of the cellar contrasts with the heat of his breath against my skin, making me shiver in anticipation.
Enrick looks up with a wicked grin. “All for me?”
“Yes,” I gasp, unable to lie—not when his touch sets me on fire like this.
Strong hands steady my hips as his mouth finds me, his shoulder bearing my weight. His tongue traces slow paths, licking and teasing until I’m trembling.
He knows exactly how to build pressure, alternating between gentle laps and firmer strokes, sucking lightly on my most sensitive spot. I bite my lip to stifle my moans, my hands gripping the shelves behind me for support.
“Enrick, please—” I beg, my voice barely a whisper.
“Quiet, sweetness,” he murmurs against me. “Can’t let them hear you.” But he doesn’t stop—instead, he intensifies, his tongue delving deeper, driving me higher with every flick and swirl. It’s fast, intense, his hands holding my hips steady as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter.
When I shatter, the orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami, my body shuddering as I muffle my cries against my own fist.
He gentles his touch as I come down, pressing soft kisses to my inner thigh before carefully lowering my leg. My knees are weak, and I grip his shoulders as he rises, steadying me.
“Jesus,” I breathe, my heart still racing.
He cups my face, kissing me slowly, deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with want, his breath ragged.
“I need you, Dez. All of you. Not just fifteen minutes stolen in a wine cellar.”
I step sideways, fumbling for my jeans, suddenly desperate for the barrier of clothing between us. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” He catches my wrist, pulling me back. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not interested.”
I can’t. “The roads are clearing tonight,” I say instead. “I’ll leave in the morning.”
“On Christmas morning?” His jaw tightens. “Then I have all day and night to change your mind.”
Enter Margot
Enrick
“Enrick—”
“Go back upstairs first,” I say, forcing myself to release her even though every instinct screams to keep touching her. “I’ll grab the wine and follow in a few minutes.”
“Anyone with eyes will know what we’ve been doing.” She’s still breathless, her lips swollen from my kisses, and faint red mark blooms on her collarbone where I sucked too hard.
“Then fix your braids and blame the flush on the wine cellar temperature.” I pick up her sweater from the floor and hand it to her. My hands aren’t quite steady either. “Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. Everyone’s too focused on getting ready for tomorrow.”
She pulls it on, fumbling with the fabric. “Did you put Gina up to sending me down here?”
I could lie. Should lie, probably. But I’m done with the version of myself who took the coward’s way out.
“Yes.” I watch her eyes widen. “I asked her to create opportunities for us to be alone. Nothing creepy—just... chances.”
“You—” She stops, processing. “Oh, thank God.”
“That’s not the reaction I expected.”
“I thought the house might be bugged,” she admits, and despite everything, I laugh.
“Bugged? Desiree—”
“I told Cassidy last night there was no wine here, and then suddenly Gina’s sending me to a wine cellar? It seemed suspicious!” But she’s smiling now, a real smile that reaches her eyes and causes an immediate, sweet constriction in my ribs. “You’re just a schemer, not Big Brother.”
