Free A Taste of Sauvignon by Heather Heyford Page A

denim-clad area beneath it, deep navy in the fold, fading to cornflower where the fabric bulged outward. Her lips parted and she became aware of her chest rising and falling with her breath. There it was again—that persistent, demanding yearning . . . for what? She knew the facts of life. But knowing something wasn’t the same as experiencing it. She’d always been too busy studying. Working. Excelling. Now, though, she was almost ready. A syrupy warmth infused her stomach and spiraled downward.
    â€œWell?” He raised his gorgeous hands—the ones she’d had to concentrate on not staring at all through dinner with his parents—in a shrug, unwittingly showing off the delectable hollows in the center of his palms. Her smallish breasts would hardly fill them up. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint.
    Not now. Not tonight . . .
    â€œWhat are you waiting for?”
    She’d totally lost track of which sample of lavender was which. She stuck a random cutting under his nose.
    . . . but soon.
    â€œEasy. Lavandin,” he said.
    â€œWrong!” She held out a different flower, biting her lip to keep from giggling.
    â€œAgain.”
    Savvy had always been a good girl. A rule follower. Who knew being mischievous could be so much fun?
    Above her scarf, his forehead wrinkled in a frown. “That’s . . . one more time.”
    She waved yet another, random sample, and he gave it a sniff.
    â€œYou’re cheating.” His hands went toward the blindfold.
    â€œNonononono!” Her pent-up laughter spilled out and she held down his forearms, impressed by their ropy firmness. “Don’t take it off yet. I’ll play fair. I promise.”
    But wild impulses hijacked her intentions. Here he was, her very own David. Her blind captive, to do with as she pleased. How could she resist?
    Before she could change her mind, she went up on her toes, slipping her hand around the curve of his neck beneath the fall of his hair. In the second before he caught on, it was like hugging a surprised tree trunk. Then he became malleable, letting her take the lead, passively allowing his head to be guided down to where she pressed her closed lips to his.
    She hadn’t been expecting him to turn the tables. What had been putty in her hands seconds earlier abruptly hardened into to decisive, capable male .
    With one mighty arm, Esteban hauled her into his chest, while his other hand cradled the back of her head. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue delved into her . . . and she was gone. Swept away . . . her heart slamming against her chest, her pulse rocketing out of control.
    Had she really thought she could tease this earthy man with no repercussions?
    His eyes were still blinded, while hers were fastened on him, watching him dive in to ravish her again and again with his mouth, his everywhere-hands taking possession of her. They spanned her lower back, pressing her into him with a controlled power that made her gasp. Breathlessly, she stared over his shoulder at a wall of green while his fingers fumbled in her chignon, extracting her bobby pins, scattering them without a care. Once her hair flowed free, he wrapped it around his fist like a rope and used it to gently force her head back, giving him access to plaster a row of kisses down her neck.
    She bet he’d been kissing women for ages.
    A low scraping sound in his chest filled her with an unsettling heat. Panic mingled with pleasure.
    Seducing Esteban had begun as business stratagem, a means to an end. But it wasn’t turning out as planned. Unexpectedly, she felt like the victim, not the perpetrator.
    Why should she care? Was she naïve enough to think that she was his first? She doubted there were too many twenty-seven-year-old men around who still had their V-cards. Besides, this wasn’t about love. It was about trading favors while checking off a necessary item from her to-do list.
    The atmosphere thickened as his breath