Page 101 of Rare Blend
Oh, Jesus. Here we go. “It’s not Cole’s wine, it’s Benton wine.”
He releases a dry, humorless huff. “Like there’s a difference.”
I almost forgot how hot he looks when he’s upset. He’s been so nice lately.
“It’s work related.”
His eyes cut to mine. “How so?” he grits.
“Benton remodeled their tasting room, and they’re doing a grand reopening next week. I was trying to educate myself, learn the tasting notes and what not.”
Some of the annoyance softens around his eyes. But only slightly. “If you want to learn about wine, come to me.”
I wasn’t trying to learn about wine in general. I was trying to learn about Benton wine, but I don’t correct him.
“Come on.” He grabs my hand, dragging me toward the front door.
“Where are we going?” I ask, letting him pull me to keep feeling his hand over mine.
“Back to the winery.”
“How is it warm in here?”
“Backup generators. We can’t afford for the atmosphere in the temperature-controlled rooms to change.”
Ethan leads me to the empty tasting room. I’ve never been inside after hours. A single row of dim recessed lights illuminates the space.
“Are we the only ones here?”
“Yeah, I sent everyone home.” Ethan points to the barstool. “Sit,” he commands.
“We don’t have to do this right now. We can wait until after Thanksgiving when the winery is open.”
The look he gives me tells me there won’t be any changing his mind.
I take a seat, and he sets down two glasses for me and him.
“Too many people. I think a little privacy is needed for today’s lesson.”
Okay, well, that sounded dirty. Involuntarily, my thighs squeeze together, hidden by the imposing marble counter. Ethan’s eyes drag from mine, down my neck, stopping at the cleavage poking out over my top, leaving a path of heat in their wake. He pulls his bottom lip in with his teeth, and a spark ignites in my core.
“What’s the lesson?” I squeak, my voice revealing how much his eye-fuck affected me.
A haughty grin tugs at his lips. “Wine tasting, of course.”
Of course. Because why would I be thinking about anything else?
He starts opening one of the bottles, a loud pop sounding as he pulls out the cork. He grabs my glass and pours the deep-burgundy liquid.
While pouring his own glass he says, “This bottle is this year’s Ledger Estate Red Blend.” His voice is a low murmur.
With both glasses holding a decent pour, our eyes meet and the room seems to shrink, the air growing heavier by the second.
“Taste it,” he commands.
I think I’m going to melt into a puddle. I’m not mature enough for this. He saystaste it,and it takes all of my willpower for my eyes to not stare directly at his dick.
I pick up the glass and bring it to my lips, but he stops me.
