Free A Taste of Sauvignon by Heather Heyford Page B

came faster, heavier. His hand had released her hair and was on the back of her head again, tilting it to give him better access. Sensations crowded out thoughts. She grew dizzy with the oppressive heat of the surroundings, the cloying, almost hypnotic smell of grassy musky blossoms, the feel of his hands on her body . . . until she felt hard plastic slip from her temples and hit the gravel with a soft ssshht.
    â€œ My glasses!” Reflexively, her hands flew up, flailing at the air like a mime’s against the side of an imaginary box.
    Esteban whipped off his blindfold.
    â€œHelp me find my glasses!”
    Everyone who knew Savvy knew not to mess around when it came to her glasses. Even Char and Meri had learned, at a very young age, that the “most-rational” sister turned into an instant crazy person if one of them dared to play hide-and-seek with her “eyes.” Without them, she was virtually blind.
    Unfortunately, Esteban did not know her that well yet.
    Vaguely, she saw him—or a shape that might be him—stoop, and then rise.
    â€œDid you find them?” she cried.
    â€œGot ’em.”
    Frantically, she clawed at the clammy air. “Where are they? Give them to me!”
    â€œIn my pocket.”
    â€œGive them to me! I can’t see!”
    â€œOh, so it’s okay for me to be blind, but not you?” he asked calmly. Logically.
    This was no time for logic. She lunged in the direction of his front pockets, but he caught her wrists.
    â€œTu es hermosa,” he breathed, transferring both her wrists to one of his hands, bringing them to the center of her pounding chest.
    â€œYou’re okay,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”
    Her arms relaxed a little.
    Tenderly, he planted a kiss on one cheek, then the other. He stroked her loose hair with his free hand. “I’ve been imagining what you looked like without those things.”
    He bunched up her hair next to her ear, then fanned it out and let it fall. “You look completely different this way.” This time, when he kissed her, the already pleasant familiarity was a comfort, not threat. “ Una mujer— a woman—not a lawyer.”
    Objection. She’d fought long and hard for her professional persona. No one was invited behind that mask, other than family, thank you very much.
    Gradually, his kisses began to prod again. When he found that she tolerated, even welcomed, them, they became darker, more insistent. He cast her wrists away finally and reached around with both hands to cup her rear end, pressing her into his hardness.
    Without sight, Savvy’s other senses were heightened. The atmosphere in the greenhouse was like a steam room. The heady smell of lavender filled her deprived lungs to bursting. All she could see was his blurry outline in a sea of green. All she could hear was the sound of his voice, softly murmuring in Spanish.
    â€œMía.”
    Her mind swirled and twirled.... She couldn’t get enough air. . . . She was going to faint. What did mía mean?
    He was sliding his hand under the back of her sweater and moving it around to cover one bra cup with an all-encompassing heat and—
    What did she think she was she doing?
    â€œWait. Stop,” she said, panicked. She was supposed to be the seducer here, not the seducee! She’d wanted to overwhelm him . She hadn’t counted on losing control herself.
    Immediately, Esteban obeyed, dropping his hands, though his feet remained rooted in place.
    Savvy staggered backward, yanking down her sweater.
    â€œI—it’s time for me to go. And before I do, I have to—thank your mother. Tell your parents good-night,” she managed to get out between blind, breathless gasps.
    She licked her raw lips and held out a trembling hand. “Now,” she demanded in her best courtroom voice. “Give. Me. My—”
    A vague shape came toward her face. She felt the profound relief