Savor
Page 18
She returned the favor, sucking me so deep inside her mouth I groaned loud enough to probably wake up the entire floor of the hotel. She made me come in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
The second time, she woke me up. It was her turn to rain kisses all over my body, driving me crazy with her lush, wet mouth. She finally grabbed a condom, slipped it on me and then rode me into oblivion, making herself come by grinding against my cock.
That had been hot. So hot I gripped her body and flipped her over so she was pinned beneath me and I drove myself inside her again and again, coming until I was a gasping, exhausted mess.
We collapsed in each other’s arms, slept the rest of the night away until the alarm on my cell phone woke us up, reminding us of our sole purpose for being here.
The Savor conference.
We took a shower together before she slipped into a robe and snuck into her room, where she continued to get ready. We then took a taxi together to the conference since the weather was shit.
I held her hand the entire ride over, our fingers linked casually together, a representation of our relationship and how I was feeling. Usually that sort of shit scares me to death but not this time. Not with Bryn. I want her in my life. I don’t care that she works for me. Hell, she can become my partner, helping me run the winery, making decisions—everything she already does.
I love the idea so much I know I’m going to mention it to her later tonight when we meet up again after the day’s activities at the conference are over. She might balk and say she doesn’t deserve the position, and that’s one thing I’ve realized since I’ve started working with her: Bryn doesn’t believe in herself very much.
She should though. She’s talented and smart and keeps me on track like no one else. She offers thoughtful opinions and is always, always thinking ahead when it comes to the business. DeLuca Winery is always at the forefront of her thoughts and she’s exactly what I need.
Bryn is all I need.
I move through the day like a giddy as**ole in love, which is sort of how I feel. I can’t concentrate, can’t focus on what the speaker is saying at a very important, highly anticipated keynote I’m sitting in on. Instead I bounce my foot against the floor, thinking of last night. How Bryn felt in my arms. The taste of her nipples. The sounds she makes and what she looks like when she comes. That satisfied little smile that curled her lips this morning when I rolled her over and told her she should join me in the shower.
Yeah, I can’t let any of that go. I don’t want to let any of it go. I really think Bryn and I could make this happen.
First I need to confirm that she’s interested in taking it further than a simple affair while we’re out of town.
When I finally make it back to the hotel, I know she’s already there since she texted me about an hour ago. I’m eager, ready to tell her my grand ideas about our personal and business future together, planned when I should’ve been listening to the state of the future of winemaking.
Ah well, f**k it. I’d rather think about Bryn.
But the moment I enter my hotel room I can sense the mood has changed. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed—I gave her a key before we left earlier—her head bent as she scans through something on her phone. Her shoulders are slumped, her hair falling forward and shielding her face. There’s something wrong.
I can feel it in the air.
“Hey.” I say, letting the door shut softly behind me. “You all right?”
She lifts her head, her watery gaze meeting mine, and my heart lurches in my chest. She’s been crying. Why? Over me?
God, I hope not.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I rush toward her, and she holds out her phone, averting her head so she doesn’t have to look at me.
“Read this,” she says, her voice rough with unshed tears.
I take the phone from her, see that she’s brought up an article from a prominent gossip site. There’s a hazy photo of Bryn and me at the window, her skirt bunched around her waist, white panties on brief display. You’d have to be an idiot not to realize what we’re doing. I’m standing behind her, my hands resting on her hips.
The headline alone makes my heart drop into my toes:
Former Baseball Player Matt DeLuca Rounds the Bases With His Secretary!
“Shit,” I say aloud as I sit heavily on the edge of the mattress right next to her, skimming the article. It goes on about Bryn and me, how she’s worked for me since I took over the winery, and we’ve been having a heated affair for months. The unidentified source talks about our supposed affair and how it will be the eventual demise of my new business venture if I don’t watch it.
The final nail in the coffin? The source goes on to say I’m just like my father, who’s been embroiled with one scandal after another ever since the beginning of his career with the Oakland A’s:
“Like father, like son, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Though at least the dad always seems to land on his feet. We’ll see if his son can do the same.”
“Who the f**k could’ve done this?” I ask grimly, thrusting the phone back toward her. I have my suspicions. I just don’t want to say them out loud yet. “We need to figure out who’s behind every word of this stupid, deceitful article.”
Her head is still bent, like she can’t stand to look at me. “It’s not lies. It’s the truth.”
“It wasn’t the truth until last night and that doesn’t count,” I tell her as I pull out my own phone to find a few text messages from Archer and Gage, both of them asking what the hell is going on with the article being blasted all over the place.
Oh and I have a voicemail from my father. Interesting.
I refuse to listen to it. Not now, in front of Bryn. I need to keep my emotions under control before I lose it completely.
I think he might have had a hand in this. The tone of the entire article makes me think he’s behind it. That the article actually mentioned my father multiple times when he hasn’t been in the spotlight in years makes me suspect him.
“Doesn’t count?” She lifts her head, her angry eyes meeting mine. “Are you saying what happened between us last night doesn’t count?”
“No. Of course not.” I slowly shake my head, amazed at all the emotion I see blazing in her gaze. “I think—shit, I think my dad could be behind this. God knows when he could’ve tried to first sell this article, probably right after the opening, when you so kindly pushed him out and sent him on his merry way.”
“I didn’t kindly push him out,” she admits. “He said horrible things and basically accused me of being a slut and sleeping with his son. Oh, and when I grew sick of you, he said I could come and have sex with him any time I wanted. You know, because the two of you are so similar and all.” She lets out an angry little sound that’s a cross between a growl and a squeal. “The man is a pig.”
Fuck. Tell me all about it. The worst part? He’s my father. And supposedly I’m just like him.
“He said that to you?” I ask weakly, wincing when she stands to glare down at me, her expression one of pure fury.
“Yes! He made me feel like the cheap hussy everyone else seems to think I am. And look, we proved him right by having sex.” She throws her arms up in the air. “I’m exactly what everybody says I am. A stupid whore who sleeps her way around, who just falls into bed with her boss because she’s too dumb to know better.”
I stand, grabbing hold of her shoulders and giving her a little shake. “No. Stop calling yourself such horrible names. You’re nothing like that. We’ve been fighting this and trying to do the right thing for months, Bryn. Months. You didn’t just fall into bed with your boss because you’re too dumb to know better. I hope you came into my bed because you care for me as much as I care for you.”
Bryn
I STARE INTO Matt’s eyes, shocked by his words, by his easy defense of me. I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed, upset, embarrassed. At least my name isn’t in the article though, it doesn’t need to be. There’s the photo as proof it’s me. Everyone at the winery will see the article and the picture, and I’ll become a mockery. People in the community will hear the rumors and know I’m the one who’s supposedly having a torrid affair with my boss.
It’s the type of humiliation I’ve been trying to run from since Brian Fairbanks chased me around his office. I’d kept myself above it all, all these years. Running just ahead so that it never touched me.
But look at me now, neck deep in a huge scandal, and I have no one to blame but myself.
“Say something.” Matt gives me another little shake, rattling me out of my thoughts. “I need to know if you’re as invested in this as I am.”
“Invested in what?” I ask, feeling like I’m in a daze.
“Invested in us,” he says, his mouth grim, his eyes dark, fathomless. “Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”
“I-I don’t know how I feel, Matt,” I say truthfully, horrified when I see the devastation cross his face.
God. I can’t get this sort of thing right no matter how hard I try.
“So you don’t want to be with me,” he says, his voice dull as he releases his hold on me.
“I never said that.” I watch as he turns his back on me and runs his hand through his hair, an exasperated little sound escaping him.
My heart, my entire body aches to go to him. Offer him comfort and let him know we won’t let this stumbling block break us. We can survive this.
But I don’t know if that’s the truth.
“I don’t know what I want,” I say when he doesn’t speak. “Last night was . . . it was amazing. One of the best nights of my life, but after seeing this article today and the photo, I don’t know what to think of it. Of us being together. Will we be dealing with this sort of thing for the rest of our relationship? Can we survive this type of scrutiny?” I’m scared not only of the media but of what others might think of us together. His friends, his peers in the industry. I don’t want to bring him down.
I don’t want to embarrass him.
He turns to face me, his expression full of confusion and anger and frustration. I feel terrible. I’m the one who’s doing this to him, who’s putting him through all this. “This is a fluke, Bryn. I’m pretty much out of the public eye and have been for over a year. No one cares that I have a winery in the Napa Valley, except for people in the freaking Napa Valley. Otherwise, I’m long forgotten. Some new young ballplayer has taken my place, and I’m fine with it. I’ve moved on. But my dad? He hates that I’m out of the public eye. Hates that he is too. He’s fed the media stories about me for years.”
“You really think he’s behind this?” I ask incredulously. My grandma may drive me crazy and has heaped on plenty of helpings of tough love, but she would never blatantly sabotage me or spread such lies.
He grabs his phone, punches a button and holds it to his ear, his expression grim, eyes blazing with anger. He must be listening to his voicemail or something. I wait nervously, wrapping my arms around my middle, my mind racing.
What if the photographer took more pictures? What if they release more to the media over the next few days? God, what will that do to us?
“He left me a message asking if I’d seen the article, sounding like a smug asshole,” Matt says, knocking me from my thoughts. “And hell yes, I do, especially after what you just told me. If he said those kind of things to you, then he could definitely be behind this. I mean, no one else would mention my dad and he just happens to appear in this stupid article. He’s our unidentified source.” He exhales loudly and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Wonder how much the as**ole got paid for spreading these lies. I wonder who he got to follow us.”
“Right. And who knows if any more pictures will show up? I will die if that happens, I swear. I can’t live like this,” I say, my voice soft yet steely while inside my nerves are in absolute chaos. “I can’t do it, Matt.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, and I close my eyes, afraid to look at him, scared to see the sadness in his gaze.
“Having to deal with this sort of thing will wreck my self-esteem, and it’s already pretty wrecked.” I crack open my eyes to find him staring at me, shock written all over his handsome face. “I’ll never be able to escape the shadow of being the home wrecker, the easy girl. The dumb slut who sleeps with her boss because she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do.”
“But that’s not what we have, Bryn. Can’t you see it? This has nothing to do with me being your boss and you being my assistant. What we have, what we shared last night, is about us being a man and a woman who are attracted to each other.” He pauses, staring at me. “Right?”
I can only look at him, not sure what to say, how to defend my feelings. They are what they are, and I have no explanation for them. They’re just there. And they’re not about to go away anytime soon. It’s not that easy.
But I don’t tell him any of that. He wouldn’t understand. He’s wealthy and established and confident in going after what he wants, be it a new career, a new woman—a new whatever.
Me, on the other hand, I lack confidence. I’m young and broke and striving to make myself better, but every time I think I’ve pushed myself into a better place, I f**k it up somehow and end up taking about forty steps backward.
Until I’m right back where I started.
“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “I’m not sure if this can work out.”
The second time, she woke me up. It was her turn to rain kisses all over my body, driving me crazy with her lush, wet mouth. She finally grabbed a condom, slipped it on me and then rode me into oblivion, making herself come by grinding against my cock.
That had been hot. So hot I gripped her body and flipped her over so she was pinned beneath me and I drove myself inside her again and again, coming until I was a gasping, exhausted mess.
We collapsed in each other’s arms, slept the rest of the night away until the alarm on my cell phone woke us up, reminding us of our sole purpose for being here.
The Savor conference.
We took a shower together before she slipped into a robe and snuck into her room, where she continued to get ready. We then took a taxi together to the conference since the weather was shit.
I held her hand the entire ride over, our fingers linked casually together, a representation of our relationship and how I was feeling. Usually that sort of shit scares me to death but not this time. Not with Bryn. I want her in my life. I don’t care that she works for me. Hell, she can become my partner, helping me run the winery, making decisions—everything she already does.
I love the idea so much I know I’m going to mention it to her later tonight when we meet up again after the day’s activities at the conference are over. She might balk and say she doesn’t deserve the position, and that’s one thing I’ve realized since I’ve started working with her: Bryn doesn’t believe in herself very much.
She should though. She’s talented and smart and keeps me on track like no one else. She offers thoughtful opinions and is always, always thinking ahead when it comes to the business. DeLuca Winery is always at the forefront of her thoughts and she’s exactly what I need.
Bryn is all I need.
I move through the day like a giddy as**ole in love, which is sort of how I feel. I can’t concentrate, can’t focus on what the speaker is saying at a very important, highly anticipated keynote I’m sitting in on. Instead I bounce my foot against the floor, thinking of last night. How Bryn felt in my arms. The taste of her nipples. The sounds she makes and what she looks like when she comes. That satisfied little smile that curled her lips this morning when I rolled her over and told her she should join me in the shower.
Yeah, I can’t let any of that go. I don’t want to let any of it go. I really think Bryn and I could make this happen.
First I need to confirm that she’s interested in taking it further than a simple affair while we’re out of town.
When I finally make it back to the hotel, I know she’s already there since she texted me about an hour ago. I’m eager, ready to tell her my grand ideas about our personal and business future together, planned when I should’ve been listening to the state of the future of winemaking.
Ah well, f**k it. I’d rather think about Bryn.
But the moment I enter my hotel room I can sense the mood has changed. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed—I gave her a key before we left earlier—her head bent as she scans through something on her phone. Her shoulders are slumped, her hair falling forward and shielding her face. There’s something wrong.
I can feel it in the air.
“Hey.” I say, letting the door shut softly behind me. “You all right?”
She lifts her head, her watery gaze meeting mine, and my heart lurches in my chest. She’s been crying. Why? Over me?
God, I hope not.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I rush toward her, and she holds out her phone, averting her head so she doesn’t have to look at me.
“Read this,” she says, her voice rough with unshed tears.
I take the phone from her, see that she’s brought up an article from a prominent gossip site. There’s a hazy photo of Bryn and me at the window, her skirt bunched around her waist, white panties on brief display. You’d have to be an idiot not to realize what we’re doing. I’m standing behind her, my hands resting on her hips.
The headline alone makes my heart drop into my toes:
Former Baseball Player Matt DeLuca Rounds the Bases With His Secretary!
“Shit,” I say aloud as I sit heavily on the edge of the mattress right next to her, skimming the article. It goes on about Bryn and me, how she’s worked for me since I took over the winery, and we’ve been having a heated affair for months. The unidentified source talks about our supposed affair and how it will be the eventual demise of my new business venture if I don’t watch it.
The final nail in the coffin? The source goes on to say I’m just like my father, who’s been embroiled with one scandal after another ever since the beginning of his career with the Oakland A’s:
“Like father, like son, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Though at least the dad always seems to land on his feet. We’ll see if his son can do the same.”
“Who the f**k could’ve done this?” I ask grimly, thrusting the phone back toward her. I have my suspicions. I just don’t want to say them out loud yet. “We need to figure out who’s behind every word of this stupid, deceitful article.”
Her head is still bent, like she can’t stand to look at me. “It’s not lies. It’s the truth.”
“It wasn’t the truth until last night and that doesn’t count,” I tell her as I pull out my own phone to find a few text messages from Archer and Gage, both of them asking what the hell is going on with the article being blasted all over the place.
Oh and I have a voicemail from my father. Interesting.
I refuse to listen to it. Not now, in front of Bryn. I need to keep my emotions under control before I lose it completely.
I think he might have had a hand in this. The tone of the entire article makes me think he’s behind it. That the article actually mentioned my father multiple times when he hasn’t been in the spotlight in years makes me suspect him.
“Doesn’t count?” She lifts her head, her angry eyes meeting mine. “Are you saying what happened between us last night doesn’t count?”
“No. Of course not.” I slowly shake my head, amazed at all the emotion I see blazing in her gaze. “I think—shit, I think my dad could be behind this. God knows when he could’ve tried to first sell this article, probably right after the opening, when you so kindly pushed him out and sent him on his merry way.”
“I didn’t kindly push him out,” she admits. “He said horrible things and basically accused me of being a slut and sleeping with his son. Oh, and when I grew sick of you, he said I could come and have sex with him any time I wanted. You know, because the two of you are so similar and all.” She lets out an angry little sound that’s a cross between a growl and a squeal. “The man is a pig.”
Fuck. Tell me all about it. The worst part? He’s my father. And supposedly I’m just like him.
“He said that to you?” I ask weakly, wincing when she stands to glare down at me, her expression one of pure fury.
“Yes! He made me feel like the cheap hussy everyone else seems to think I am. And look, we proved him right by having sex.” She throws her arms up in the air. “I’m exactly what everybody says I am. A stupid whore who sleeps her way around, who just falls into bed with her boss because she’s too dumb to know better.”
I stand, grabbing hold of her shoulders and giving her a little shake. “No. Stop calling yourself such horrible names. You’re nothing like that. We’ve been fighting this and trying to do the right thing for months, Bryn. Months. You didn’t just fall into bed with your boss because you’re too dumb to know better. I hope you came into my bed because you care for me as much as I care for you.”
Bryn
I STARE INTO Matt’s eyes, shocked by his words, by his easy defense of me. I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed, upset, embarrassed. At least my name isn’t in the article though, it doesn’t need to be. There’s the photo as proof it’s me. Everyone at the winery will see the article and the picture, and I’ll become a mockery. People in the community will hear the rumors and know I’m the one who’s supposedly having a torrid affair with my boss.
It’s the type of humiliation I’ve been trying to run from since Brian Fairbanks chased me around his office. I’d kept myself above it all, all these years. Running just ahead so that it never touched me.
But look at me now, neck deep in a huge scandal, and I have no one to blame but myself.
“Say something.” Matt gives me another little shake, rattling me out of my thoughts. “I need to know if you’re as invested in this as I am.”
“Invested in what?” I ask, feeling like I’m in a daze.
“Invested in us,” he says, his mouth grim, his eyes dark, fathomless. “Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”
“I-I don’t know how I feel, Matt,” I say truthfully, horrified when I see the devastation cross his face.
God. I can’t get this sort of thing right no matter how hard I try.
“So you don’t want to be with me,” he says, his voice dull as he releases his hold on me.
“I never said that.” I watch as he turns his back on me and runs his hand through his hair, an exasperated little sound escaping him.
My heart, my entire body aches to go to him. Offer him comfort and let him know we won’t let this stumbling block break us. We can survive this.
But I don’t know if that’s the truth.
“I don’t know what I want,” I say when he doesn’t speak. “Last night was . . . it was amazing. One of the best nights of my life, but after seeing this article today and the photo, I don’t know what to think of it. Of us being together. Will we be dealing with this sort of thing for the rest of our relationship? Can we survive this type of scrutiny?” I’m scared not only of the media but of what others might think of us together. His friends, his peers in the industry. I don’t want to bring him down.
I don’t want to embarrass him.
He turns to face me, his expression full of confusion and anger and frustration. I feel terrible. I’m the one who’s doing this to him, who’s putting him through all this. “This is a fluke, Bryn. I’m pretty much out of the public eye and have been for over a year. No one cares that I have a winery in the Napa Valley, except for people in the freaking Napa Valley. Otherwise, I’m long forgotten. Some new young ballplayer has taken my place, and I’m fine with it. I’ve moved on. But my dad? He hates that I’m out of the public eye. Hates that he is too. He’s fed the media stories about me for years.”
“You really think he’s behind this?” I ask incredulously. My grandma may drive me crazy and has heaped on plenty of helpings of tough love, but she would never blatantly sabotage me or spread such lies.
He grabs his phone, punches a button and holds it to his ear, his expression grim, eyes blazing with anger. He must be listening to his voicemail or something. I wait nervously, wrapping my arms around my middle, my mind racing.
What if the photographer took more pictures? What if they release more to the media over the next few days? God, what will that do to us?
“He left me a message asking if I’d seen the article, sounding like a smug asshole,” Matt says, knocking me from my thoughts. “And hell yes, I do, especially after what you just told me. If he said those kind of things to you, then he could definitely be behind this. I mean, no one else would mention my dad and he just happens to appear in this stupid article. He’s our unidentified source.” He exhales loudly and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Wonder how much the as**ole got paid for spreading these lies. I wonder who he got to follow us.”
“Right. And who knows if any more pictures will show up? I will die if that happens, I swear. I can’t live like this,” I say, my voice soft yet steely while inside my nerves are in absolute chaos. “I can’t do it, Matt.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, and I close my eyes, afraid to look at him, scared to see the sadness in his gaze.
“Having to deal with this sort of thing will wreck my self-esteem, and it’s already pretty wrecked.” I crack open my eyes to find him staring at me, shock written all over his handsome face. “I’ll never be able to escape the shadow of being the home wrecker, the easy girl. The dumb slut who sleeps with her boss because she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do.”
“But that’s not what we have, Bryn. Can’t you see it? This has nothing to do with me being your boss and you being my assistant. What we have, what we shared last night, is about us being a man and a woman who are attracted to each other.” He pauses, staring at me. “Right?”
I can only look at him, not sure what to say, how to defend my feelings. They are what they are, and I have no explanation for them. They’re just there. And they’re not about to go away anytime soon. It’s not that easy.
But I don’t tell him any of that. He wouldn’t understand. He’s wealthy and established and confident in going after what he wants, be it a new career, a new woman—a new whatever.
Me, on the other hand, I lack confidence. I’m young and broke and striving to make myself better, but every time I think I’ve pushed myself into a better place, I f**k it up somehow and end up taking about forty steps backward.
Until I’m right back where I started.
“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “I’m not sure if this can work out.”
