Page 13 of Save Me

“Did you try it?”

His voice is like silk, and I find myself replying softly. “The Sangiovese? Yeah. You recommended it.” I glance at his mouth. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much for our lips to touch. “I did have to ask the woman at the store which one to get, but I liked the one she suggested. It went nicely with the pasta.” Ashley licks his lips, and the air leaves my lungs. I barely manage to make myself heard. “Which one for tonight?”

His eyes darken and he grins at me like he knows the effect he’s having, and revels in it. I’m not really minding either. “I think—” he pulls a bottle from the shelf and turns to face me. Our bodies are barely an inch apart and damn he smells incredible “—we should open the Cab and let it breathe.”

Breathing is a good thing. I should try it. I reach around him, letting our bodies press together as I search in a drawer for the waiter’s style corkscrew. Ashley leans into me and inhales. Is he smelling me? I’ll admit I’m a bit turned on by the thought. I find the corkscrew and offer it to him, but when he doesn’t take it from me, I glance over to see his eyes flutter open. Not caring that he’s been caught, he smirks and takes the corkscrew from my hand, then turns to face the counter. My heart hammers wildly and my voice comes out slightly raspy. “You’ll have to show me how to open it properly. I can’t seem to avoid cork in the wine, and even I know that’s bad.” I laugh self-deprecatingly.

“It’s easy. Here.” He steps back and moves me, so we exchange places. I’m now in front of the wine bottle and he’s behind me. “Start with cutting the foil capsule.” This close, the smell of his coconut shampoo is strong, and I can feel the gentle puff of his breath on my cheek. He’s incredibly distracting and I must have zoned out, because he grins and taps the very top of the bottle where the cork is. “The foil? Be sure to cut below the lip of the bottle so when poured, the wine doesn’t come in contact with the metal.” He hands the corkscrew back and I manage to open the knife and trim away the foil without cutting myself, though I have no idea how. My hands are shaking slightly, as his warmth presses against my back. Every part of me wants to turn and slip my arms around his waist, pull him against me and kiss him until he forgets his name, or I forget mine.

“Excellent. Now set the tip of the corkscrew a tad off-center so when you twist, the main portion goes through the center of the cork.” He takes my left hand and wraps my fingers around the neck of the bottle, then covers it with his own. Heat rushes up my face as I imagine this same situation, only instead of a bottle our hands are wrapped around my cock, both jerking me off, Ashley guiding me, dictating the pace, his warm breath tickling my ear. I force my mind back to the task at hand and swallow hard, glad I’m in front of him and not behind, otherwise he’d surely tell where my thoughts went.

He carefully helps me guide the placement of the corkscrew nub with my thumb. “Just a gentle twist at the top.” God, his voice is so seductive. I bet he could read me a grocery list in that smooth tone and make it sound filthy. Ashley slides his right hand along my forearm, steadying me, and we watch, breathless, as the steel tip pierces the body of the cork, sinking deeper into the yielding flesh with each twist of my wrist.

As the last curve disappears, steel buried fully in the pliant material, it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Ashley squeezes my arm and murmurs in my ear. “Yes. Right there. So perfect.” I wait, unwilling to break whatever spell has created this moment, and try not to think about how incredibly hard I am, or how little effort it would take for him to make me come. “Now, firmly place the ledge of the corkscrew right on the lip of the bottle and lift with steady pressure.” The anticipation is almost too much, and when the cork finally pops free, I moan.

We stand utterly still for several heartbeats, the only sound our soft panting gasps. “See? Not so difficult.” Ashley sounds wrecked, and I feel like more just happened than opening a bottle of wine. He takes a step away, and I peer over my shoulder at him. He looks shaken, and it’s clear he felt it too. There really is something between us. I let that sink in, then smile. It seems to pull Ashley out of whatever daze he’s in and he flashes one of his saucy looks. “Shall I pour, or will you?”

I laugh, barely able to stop myself from making a joke about having already spilled before we’ve poured, and exhale as if a weight has been lifted from my chest. “Seems I’ve done all the work to this point. You have to carry some of the load.” I reach into the cupboard and pull down two wine glasses.

“Nice stemware.” Yes, his voice is laced with innuendo, but there’s also surprise.

I shrug. “Fiona drinks wine. I’m not sure she’s into it as much as you are, and I’ll bet she bought these mostly because she liked the way they looked, but I’m glad they meet your approval.” I grin and jerk my head toward the bottle. “So, you gonna pour sometime this evening? Or are we just here to appreciate my stemware?”

Ashley raises an eyebrow, sniffing indignantly. It would be more effective if the little half smile on his lips wasn’t trying to break into a full grin. He shoulders past me and pours, then hands me a glass. “We need to let it breathe for a bit.” Our fingers touch as he hands me the glass and neither one of us moves to end the contact. I glance up from the place where our fingers overlap and find him staring at me intently. He cocks one of his wicked eyebrows at me and smirks. “I thought you were making me dinner.”

The air is once again alive with delicious tension. “You have to help.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Really, Jamie. My cooking skills have improved little in the past year. I’m all but useless in the kitchen.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a pass tonight. You’ve had a traumatic day.” It’s hard to believe that only this morning I was planning to head into the office for another routine day of work. I place my hand against his lower back and gently guide him outside to the swing. When he leans into my palm and steps closer, I consider pulling him around and kissing him, but don’t. He needs to eat. One peanut butter and jelly sandwich several hours ago isn’t going to hold him for long, and I have no desire to ruin the mood with a hangry Ashley.

He settles on the swing and I lean down, my lips almost brushing against his ear, and murmur softly, “Enjoy your wine. Relax.” I step back and walk further down the porch to light the gas grill, grinning at how flustered he looks. “But tomorrow evening, you’re helping.” He rolls his eyes at me and smiles, and my heart does a little flip. “How do you like your steak?”

Ashley’s eyes sparkle, and he teasingly bites his lower lip. “Quite the loaded question.” He smirks and drags his eyes from the top of my head down to my toes. I am being thoroughly undressed by his gaze, and I have to admit, I don’t mind at all. “Medium rare, please.” He locks eyes with mine and slowly strokes one finger delicately around the rim of the glass. “How do you like yours?” And there it is. What had once been snarkiness and defensive posturing designed to keep everyone at bay is now seductive and inviting and directed solely at me. And I like it. Images of long, elegant fingers gently stroking me instead of the wine glass have me half hard and out of breath. “It depends on my mood.”

Then I wonder if this isn’t another of Ashley’s defensive tactics. He is in an incredibly vulnerable position, emotionally wrung out from lack of sleep and an attempt on his life, and utterly unsure what his future will be in a week or two. If I do anything about this attraction between us, am I taking advantage of him while he’s vulnerable? I know what my feelings are for him, but I have no idea where his head is with this. Is he looking for comfort because of stressful circumstances? Is he only attracted to me because he feels safe? He’s going to be gone again in a few weeks or less. I can’t act like this is a normal situation. It’s anything but, and we’re not here for a romantic weekend getaway, no matter how easy it would be to pretend. I start the grill and attempt to reorient my thoughts.

“Jamie, the wine is lovely.” I glance up, and it seems as if Ashley might have had a similar epiphany. Either that or he’s truly shocked by the quality of the wine. The sexual tension has diffused, and he’s concentrating on the contents of his glass.

“Oh, is it? Good. I honestly couldn’t tell an average one from a really good one, although I’d like to say I’d be able to identify a bad one if I tasted it.” I pick up my glass and join him on the swing while I let the grill heat up. “What should I be tasting?”

He sits up and puts his feet back on the swing, excitement written all over his face. “Take a small sip, and while you do, suck in a bit of air over your palate before you swallow. Then tell me what you taste.” He looks intently at me, eager for my response.

I do as I’m told, and take a sip, afraid I’m going to disappoint him with my uncultured response, and almost choke on the fumes. Ashley bites his lip and tries not to laugh. Heat rushes over my cheeks but smile, and when the coughing stops, I try again. “Okay, so I think… spicy? Is that a term?”

Ashley nods eagerly. “Yes. Spicy is definitely a wine term. Can you identify anything else?”

I take another sip. “Maybe a bit of fruit?” I can see him cock an eyebrow at me. “No, I don’t mean grapes.” He chuckles. “But there’s a little sweetness to it.”

“Yes, good.”

He seems pleased with my responses, and that makes me warm inside. I love seeing him smile, and when it reaches his eyes like it does now, it’s devastating. I wonder how close I am to what I should have detected. “So, what do you taste?”

Ashley smells the wine. “There’s a hint of tobacco.” I grimace, and Ashley laughs. “Yes, tobacco. And cedar.” He takes a sip and holds the wine in his mouth, gently swishing it around before swallowing. “There’s a bit of clove. So that’s the spice that you tasted. And it finishes with a nice burst of cherry. That’s the sweet you tasted.”

“I got some of it right.” I’m happy that I tasted the main flavors, though I’m not sure that I’d ever have identified the tobacco. That just seems wrong in a wine.

Ashley laughs like he can tell what I’m thinking. “You did. There’s hope for you yet.” He nudges my thigh with a foot. “Now, are you going to feed me soon? Or am I to be left to waste away to nothing?” He takes another sip and looks over the rim of his glass, and our eyes meet. Rather than look away, I hold his gaze and he slowly lowers the glass, licking his lips. I swallow thickly, and no matter how much I tell myself I need to, I’m unable to break eye contact. “Jamie.”

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