Page 147 of Off the Grid

The winery is stunning. It sits above a valley that has ripples of smaller hills below, some bathed in the golden glow of long grass. Others lined with the unmistakable hanging trellises of grapes and their vines.

The actual building is small in stature but rich in architecture. Its exterior is carved stone arches with rich green vines crawling across its façade and beds of colorful flowers at its base. The wood inside is dark, the marble floor shiny, and the chandeliers above cast a soft yellow glow over everything.

“Camilla,” Riggs says for what feels like the hundredth time.

I link my fingers with his and start walking toward the structure. “It’s ours for the night. The chef has left food. The sommelier has left the proper wines to go with it. And the suite has the bed pulled down.”

He tugs on my hand and when I turn back to look at him with the sunset at his back and his storm-cloud gray eyes staring at me, I know I’ve fallen for this man. I’m in love with him.

And fuck if that’s not the heaviest of thoughts to have in a moment like this.

“Why?”

It’s the simplest of questions and often the hardest one to answer.

I step into him and press a tender kiss to his lips. “Because you deserve it.” Another kiss. “Because sometimes you need a minute away from the chaos to enjoy this life we live. Because . . . because I wanted to do something special for you.”

It’s his turn to kiss me. It’s a slow simmer of a kiss. One that’s not rushed by time constraints or the fear of someone seeing us. It’s dreamy in nature and laden with a promise of so much more.

When it ends, he brushes the strands of hair off my face and just looks at me for a moment. “You look stunning, Cam. With clothes. Without clothes. With the Camilla uniform. Without it. The clothes don’t define you or your beauty, this does.” He taps on my chest just above my heart and every part of me grows weak from his words.

“You made me see that,” I whisper.

“No.” He shakes his head with the ghost of a smile. “You made yourself see it. You may have put your trust in me, but you did the work to make yourself feel comfortable to wear this tonight. You did this.”

“You’re the one who made me feel safe enough.” My voice wavers and his smile widens.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

My emotions clog my throat and rather than try to control them, I step into him, against him, and kiss him with all the words I can’t say but want to.

“I think dinner and wine might have to wait. I want my dessert first,” he says and then I yelp when he picks me up—one arm under my legs, the other under my back—and carries me into the villa.

I’m most definitely not going to complain about that.

com

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Riggs

We move in the soft glow of candlelight.

Slow and sensual kisses accented with the rich tang of wine on our tongues.

There is no rush.

No urgency.

It’s just in an empty villa atop a desolate hill with the moon up above and the most gorgeous thing in a ten-kilometer radius beneath me.

Her smile is desire drugged when I slip into her. A soft gasp that shifts into a sensual moan.

Chills chase over her skin. I see them ripple across her flesh.

Her nipples pucker. Her stomach muscles bunch. Her thighs clench.

“Kiss me,” she murmurs and who am I to tell her no?