We engage in small chat through most of the meal. Of course Owen talks animatedly about this season’s harvest and the latest in the construction. After our plates are cleared, Celia clears her throat once more, letting us know she has something important to tell us.
“So for my birthday…” her voice turns youthful and fun as she folds her napkin before placing on the table.
“Oh that’s right,” Owen fumbles, pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket. Sliding it across to her, he’s ridiculously proud of his ‘Over the Hill’ card,
the one I told him was lame.
“Thanks, sweetie.” She pats the envelope lovingly, but doesn’t open it. “I got myself a gift,” she dangles that out there for a minute, making Owen’s brow crinkle in confusion. “I’m moving to Florida.”
Shock bathes over Owen, his fingers tightening around mine on his lap. “Where? When?” After a pause, he adds, “How?”
Celia takes a deep breath before diving into her explanation. “I knew you’d be concerned, but please hear me out. Aunt Dee-Dee has a condo in Florida. Since Uncle Andy passed away last year, she could use some company.”
Just as Owen is about to open his mouth in protest, I’m sure, Celia shushes him. “And now that you have Elle,” she looks over at me with gratitude and not an ounce of jealousy or meanness, “and the vineyard, you’re more than occupied.” Her voice carries her usual don’t-mess-with-me tone that I’ve come to love.
“Are you sure, Mom? I mean the doctors–” Celia’s agitated huff cuts Owen’s sentence in half.
“They say I’m fine. And they have doctors in Florida, too, you know?” She reaches for Owen’s hand as his fingers tap a crazy rhythm on the table. “Oh, honey, I know you’re worried, but I promise you, if there’s one single problem with my health, I’ll fly home in an instant. But I need this. Besides, it’s too cold up here anyway.”
After a brief moment of consideration, Owen concedes, pulling Celia’s hand up to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’re right, Mom. I’m sorry for questioning you. What can we do to help you?” That he said “we” and not “I” makes my heart flutter in my chest. Of course, having spent pretty much every moment together in the last seven months, we’ve been inseparable, but this is personal stuff; this is real life. And the fact that he’s chosen to include me in his, repeatedly, makes me love him even more.
“Nothing really. I just need you to take care of the house.”
Owen looks to me briefly, before answering Celia. “Of course, anything you need.” Squeezing his hand in mine once more, we both smile over at his mom as she shines with happiness at her newfound freedom.
***
“You okay with all of this?” I ask against his back, wrapping my arms around him from behind as he unbuttons his shirt.
His hands cover mine as he turns me around in the circle of his arms. Pressing his lips against the top of my head, he holds me for a minute before speaking. “Yeah, I am.” Instead of being leery and unsure, his words are hopeful and happy.
“It’ll be good for her to get away for a while.” I pull back from him and scan his face, trying to gauge his reaction. When his brow crinkles, I can see there is some kind of lingering concern. “What is it, Owen?”
He pulls me over to my bed. “Mom’s house is over an hour away. I’ve been spending so much time here that I forget what a pain in the ass it is to commute, especially when I need to be out in the fields with Peter at five in the morning.” He huffs a breath of frustration; a sense of his obligation hangs in the air. He turns to face me, pulls my hands into his on his lap, and takes another deep breath. “And then there’s you,” his soft words tumble from a lopsided and genuine smile.
I don’t remember exactly when it started, but we stay at my place a lot – at least five nights a week. In fact, I don’t think Owen has been to his mom’s house in the last week. At first, it was that we were both working long hours with the construction and fall harvest, but those excuses quickly went out the window when we both had trouble falling asleep without being in the same bed. The idea of changing the routine to which we’ve both become so accustomed must be weighing on him.
“I don’t want to change what we’ve got going here. Things have been…” he pauses, searching for the right word.
I supply it for him without a second though. “Perfect. It’s been perfect and we’ll continue to make it that way,” I assure him with a gentle squeeze of the hands and kiss to the cheek.
“Since I inherited the vineyard, my life has been crazy. I’ve learned things about myself and what I want out of my future that I never even thought possible. And then there’s you.” He leans forward and places a soft, sweet kiss to my smiling lips. “Loving you is the best part of everything that’s happened.” His confession is laced with needless concern, because all I can focus on is the fact that he said love.
“Love?” My question is meant to be airy and light, but it’s anything but.
Cupping my jaw, he pulls me close for another kiss. Speaking against my lips, he says, “Yes. Love.” Pulling away once more, his eyes lock on mine. “I love you, Elle, so much. And now that I have you, I don’t want to be away from you.”
Speech totally eludes me. Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I can’t put to words the feelings blooming in my heart.
Sweeping his thumb over the bow of my upper lip, his smile widens. “I love when you get so flustered you can’t speak. I love how caring and honest you are. I love how passionate you are about everything you do. I love how you’ve never once given up on me, on your dreams, on our future.”
Well, if he thinks that little speech is going to cure me of my inability to speak, he is certainly mistaken. All I’m capable of is sealing my lips over his in a searing kiss. My fingers dive into his hair as my tongue twists against his. We fall back on the bed, a breathless heap of tangled legs.
Feverishly, I strip him of his unbuttoned shirt. As I run my fingers over his chest, his eyes widen, his cock hardens beneath me. Straddling his hips, I gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Finally finding my voice, my feelings dangle on the tip of my tongue. “I love you, too. All those things you said about loving me, those are the same reasons I love you more than I ever thought I would love someone.”
With quickness I don’t see coming, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me underneath him. Our remaining clothes fall to the floor and his lips travel over my heated skin. His thumbs strum over the tightened points of my nipples before he pinches them gently. My hips push up against his, the heat of his movements settling between my thighs. “Owen…” His name falls from my lips in a soft, breathless plea.
Watching him travel down my body, his tongue twisting down the center of my stomach, dipping into my belly button, makes desire pool, hot and heavy. His strong hands spread my legs wide; his mouth hovers over my sex, breathing hot breaths against my skin. With one last, loving glance up at me, his tongue sweeps over my heated flesh. “Oh, God…” my voice is strained. Pleasure and need mix together, pushing me close to the edge of my control in mere seconds. When he slides two fingers into me, crooking them forward as his tongue works relentlessly over my clit, an orgasm so earth shattering, I never thought it would have existed, crashes into me, washes over me, and leaves me wrung out, but begging for more.