“Well, anytime you want to?—”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Yup. But not in the bedroom.”
Because that’s where the monster always came to her.
“Uh… You’ve had a few glasses of wine, babe. I’m not sure?—”
“I am. And don’t tell me you’re not up for it because I can see the bulge in your pants.”
It was those fucking shoes. Nolan had been half hard for most of the evening, but he thought he’d done a reasonable job of hiding it. And he couldn’t lie—he wanted to slide inside her and feel that slick heat tighten around him, but he didn’t want her to regret anything in the morning.
“How about we take a rain check until tomorrow?”
“How about you make me a double espresso if you’re worried I’m drunk? Do you want me to sign a waiver?”
“I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”
She stood on tiptoe and patted him on the cheek. “Smart man, you get it.”
Blood surged through Nolan’s veins, most of it heading south. She wanted this? She wanted his cock inside her? Then who was he to fight it? He picked her up, and instead of climbing the stairs, he headed back toward the kitchen.
“I was kidding about the coffee,” she said. “But I’ll sign the waiver.”
“I know.” He didn’t care about the coffee. Instead, he stooped to pick up the shoes, one with a slightly chewed heel, then lifted Alexa into his arms and shouldered open the back door.
“Wait, where are we going?”
“You said no bedroom.”
“Yes, but I didn’t say no house.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course, but?—”
“Then hush your sweet mouth.”
For once, she did as she was told. Alexa didn’t utter a word as he carried her along the driveway, past the burnt-out cottage with its exoskeleton of scaffolding, past the grove of trees, past the winery, and into the mine. The electronic keypad glowed beside the inner portcullis, and he punched in the code.
Yes, the portcullis.
Around the same time Jay arrived, André had swept back into town, this time followed by a small army of builders, decorators, plumbers, electricians, and carpenters. Alexa said that if the estate was to be her new home, she didn’t want any reminders of Rayna in it, a position Nolan well understood. That crazy bitch had nearly stolen his future, and a part of him wished he could go back and kill her again, but more painfully, although he’d never admit that to anyone.
Nolan’s en-suite was torn out for the second time, and then André had turned his sights on the tasting room. Perhaps his gasp of horror was overdone, but Nolan had to admit the man’s creative vision was far more spectacular than Rayna’s. Gone was the sleek, modern look, replaced by “dungeon lux.” Think medieval finery with a hint of the macabre. Velvet banquettes and flaming sconces, a stone table that could have come straight out of Camelot, swords hanging on the walls above suits of armour, and a huge tapestry depicting the hills behind the winery. The tasting sinks were made from petrified wood, and a hand-forged wrought-iron chandelier glittered above it all.
The best part?
Alexa hadn’t seen any of it yet.
Last week, she’d been away on a business trip with Chase and Jay, and since Nolan wanted the new look to be a surprise, he might have told her it was a ways off from being finished yet.
Once the portcullis rolled open with a satisfying clank, he turned on the lights, scooped her up again, and strode along the glass walkway suspended over the old railroad track. Before, the rails had been covered by wood, but they’d had to rip up the planks in order to use a railroad trolley to move the table into place. André said it would be a shame to cover up such a cool old feature, and voila, the glass had appeared. Turned out that when you threw enough money at a project, things happened really, really fast. Alexa wouldn’t tell him how much all this stuff cost, but she said that in the time André’s army had been at the estate, she’d earned more than she spent.
Hot damn.
