Can he feel the difference this time?
Am I simply praying that he’s half as invested in this as I am? Who am I kidding, of course I am.
But Gabe doesn’t stray an inch.
He’s with me, gaze locked on mine as he builds me back up again.
The sweetness, the restraint I’m used to getting from him has blazed away.
This is the determined version of him.
The locked in version, and I can’t believe how quickly he’s got me shaking again.
The crinkle in his brow and the low moan caught in his throat has me squeezing down on him.
I want this front row seat to his destruction.
I want to be the cause of it.
He seems to feel the same because I’m so damn close to tumbling, heart and all, over the edge of no return.
I dig in my heels—metaphorically—scrambling not to fall, but he keeps pushing me. It’s unstoppable.
“Let go,” Gabe tells me, his fight beading sweat along his forehead.
I swipe it away with my fingertips and finally see the cracks in him. His brows draw together as my core seizes me in this weightless wash of ecstasy.
My mouth falls open, and I ride it out, keeping one toe in reality as Gabe jerks above me, digging in, milking every scrap of pleasure out of this experience for us both, and it washes me away.
Basking in the aftermath, it takes long seconds for me to come back to myself.
I return to Gabe stroking my cheek with his thumb, his body pressed down into mine, and him looking at me like I’m everything.
My heart cracks in half, growing to compensate for all these new feelings.
He plants a kiss on my mouth that heals that fissure, reinforcing it with steel.
Gabe is the perfection I always knew he’d be.
We swim in this afterglow with small touches, simmering kisses, long looks…
Until a knock at my door jars us out of it, and Daisy calls, “Mom and Dad are on their way home, so if you two don’t want to get caught. Better move now.”
24
DREW
The tasting tour is in full swing, and I am going out of my mind trying to keep track of everyone as they spread through the town.
The only thing I can do is move place to place to check in and send out a group text when the final bus is ready to bring them all back to the Lodge at the end of the festival.
Fortunately, I only have to keep track of the out-of-towners.
If I had to keep tabs on the people who lived here taking advantage of the event, I would spontaneously combust. But those fools are on their own.
I’m on the street, peering through the front windows as cold bites at my nose and ears. Is everyone having a good time?
Does anyone need me?
