‘I’ll grab a beer.’
I pulled out a can of Brew Dog for him and a pre-mixed gin and tonic for myself. I could sense him watching me, which made me move in a jerky and unnatural way. I needed to relax, and hopefully a drink would help.
‘You lucked out with your room, I see,’ he said. ‘You’ve got a lake view.’
I nodded, handing him the beer and opening my can. I ought to pour it into something. You couldn’t really swig gin and tonic from a can, could you?
‘Just a sec,’ I said, disappearing into the bathroom to grab a glass.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror when I was in there and paused for a second, tightening my ponytail and smoothing down the fluffy hairs around the hairline that drove me constantly mad.
When I got back out, he was standing near the end of the bed. I put my glass on the side, poured the gin and tonic into it and took the biggest swig known to man. I took my time, partly scared to turn around, carefully putting the glass back down. I felt him come up behind me. He put his hands on my stomach, pulling me into him. It felt dangerous and delicious all at the same time.
‘I’ve been thinking about this all day,’ he said softly, kissing my bare shoulder.
I reached out behind me, my fingers disappearing into the velvety softness of his hair. He carried on kissing me, on my neck, on the top of my spine, and on the point I loved most, just behind my ear. I groaned and turned to face him. He wrapped his arms around me, kissing me on the mouth now, so hard I could barely breathe, his teeth grazing my lip, his tongue filling my mouth. My cardigan slipped off my shoulders and I shook it onto the floor and then, as if in one smooth, continuous movement, he hooked his fingers underneath the hem of my vest, pushing it up over my breasts, the palms of his hands skimming over them as he swept it over my head. I, in turn, undid the button of his jeans, lowered the zip, pulled them down over his hips. I stroked the inside of his thigh, trailing my fingers higher and higher up. Everything felt urgent: his breath coming in ragged bursts, me whispering into his ear.
‘This feels really good,’ I said.
His hands slid under my skirt, his thumb, warm and insistent.
‘I want you so much,’ he said, pushing me back onto the counter.
‘Do you?’ I asked, pulling at his jeans, forcing him to kick them off, doing the same with my underwear.
We moved to the bed. I lay down on my back, cushionedby the tartan throw and the world’s softest duvet, the faint sound of chatter and music floating up from the restaurant below. He lowered himself on top of me.
‘Are you feeling out of control yet?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely,’ I said, laughing lightly.
I closed my eyes, letting myself feel every single sensation as he put his hands on my knees and gently pressed them apart.
Afterwards, we lay star-shaped on the bed for ages, holding hands and chatting. It felt like the start of something.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time we pulled into the car park of the Maurizio Brogioni Winery, the second and final stop on our tour, I’d given up all hope of Nick joining us. The seven (admittedly small, but still!) glasses of wine at the first vineyard had begun to take effect and my confidence had grown – maybe I didn’t need Nick as much as I thought I had. I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself over my lack of wine knowledge (partly thanks to Aidan, I supposed) and I’d managed to make a smattering of small talk with Rosamund and to hold my own in our conversations. I was too half-drunk to worry that perhaps we should have moved on from the small talk stage by now, since I was imminently to become her daughter-in-law. The thing was, I thought that Sophia was probably so entrenched in that role that it would be difficult for anybody else to find their place. It would take time, probably, that was all.
As we got out of the minibus, a gorgeous tan and white spaniel with the most beautiful big, brown eyes came bounding up to us. He was on a lead, but it was so long he might as well not have been, given the freedom he had to run and roam. I greeted him warmly, letting him jump up and place his paws on my thighs.
‘Hello! Hello there. Well, aren’t you gorgeous?’
When he’d had enough of me, he got down and went togreet Rosamund, who instantly recoiled as he stood on two feet with excitement.
‘Oh no. Oh no, no, no!’ she shrieked, shooing the poor dog away.
‘You’re not a dog person then, Rosamund?’ I asked, amused.
How could she not want to stroke this adorable creature?
She brushed imaginary dog hairs off her jeans, which the dog hadn’t so much as touched.
‘I prefer cats,’ she said haughtily. ‘Dogs are too …’
‘Slobbery?’ I suggested.
‘Exactly,’ she said, revolted. ‘And smelly. I can’t stand the way they’re always leaping about.’