Page 74 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner
His arms come around me, solid and secure, offering comfort that quickly transforms into something more urgent as I tilt my face to his. The kiss begins as reassurance but ignites into passion with the speed of dry tinder catching flame.
All the tension and the careful distance we’ve maintained since leaving his mountain sanctuary dissolve in the heat building between us.
His hands are in my hair, mine fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer with desperate need. We stumble backward until my spine meets the wall, his body pressing against mine in a way that makes rational thought impossible.
There's anger in this kiss—at Davis, at the circumstances separating us, at the unfairness of finding this connection only to have it constrained by geography and career.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, Dominic rests his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, though his hands still hold me close. "I shouldn't have?—"
"Don't," I interrupt, unwilling to hear him apologize for something I wanted—still want—just as much as he does. "Please don't say this is a mistake."
His eyes search mine, vulnerability naked in his gaze.
"What is it then?"
"Complicated," I admit. "But real."
He exhales slowly, stepping back just enough to create space for conversation but keeping his hands lightly on my waist, as if unwilling to break contact completely. "You could still make Denver by nightfall," he says, though his tone suggests he's hoping I won't.
The reminder of my imminent departure settles heavily between us. I should go. My career, my confrontation withDavis, my life—all wait for me in San Francisco. The smart play would be to secure the contract and leave while I still have some professional perspective intact.
Yet as I look at Dominic—this complicated, passionate man who keeps revealing new depths that intrigue and move me—I find myself unwilling to end whatever this is so abruptly.
"Actually," I hear myself saying, "I was thinking I might stay another day or two. To finalize the contract details in person and maybe... get a more complete understanding of Silverleaf's operations."
It's a thin professional justification for what we both know is a personal choice, but Dominic accepts it without challenge, relief visible in the subtle relaxation of his shoulders.
"The guest room is still water damaged," he says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm sure we'll manage," I reply, matching his tone.
Later, as I send a carefully worded email to my assistant explaining my extended stay, I'm only postponing the inevitable. The real world—with its professional complications and geographical realities—hasn't disappeared. Davis still waits in San Francisco, my career still demands attention, and Dominic still belongs to this mountain in ways I'm only beginning to understand.
Yet for now, for these stolen days, I choose to explore this unexpected connection that feels increasingly like something I can't walk away from—at least, not without discovering exactly what it might become given just a bit more time to breathe.
Chapter 19
Morning sunlight streamsthrough the windows, illuminating Dominic's sleeping face beside me. Watching the play of light across his features, I'm struck by how quickly this has become familiar—waking next to him, studying the relaxed expression he wears only in sleep, feeling the solid warmth of his body against mine.
I should be in San Francisco by now. I should be presenting the Silverleaf contract to Davis and the ownership group, securing my professional standing and returning to the career trajectory I've carefully built. Instead, I've extended my stay, telling myself it's for proper due diligence on the vineyard's operations.
Even in the privacy of my thoughts, the excuse sounds hollow. I'm staying because I'm not ready to leave Dominic. Not ready to discover if what we've found here can exist beyond this mountain.
"You're thinking too loudly," Dominic murmurs without opening his eyes, his voice morning-rough in a way that sends pleasant shivers through me.
"Professional hazard. My brain doesn't come with an off switch."
He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. "What's on the analytical agenda today?"
"I should see more of your production process. Properly evaluate operations." I attempt a businesslike tone, but it’s undermined by how I curl into his embrace. "For the contract."
"Of course. For the contract." His smile against my skin tells me he sees through the pretense as clearly as I do. "After breakfast, I have something I want to show you."
"Something wine-related or something personal?" I trail my fingers along his chest, enjoying how his breath catches.
"Both." He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "But breakfast first. I promised Margie we'd stop by the bakery this morning."
"You told her I was staying longer?"
