"Grayson," I murmured, dragging my fingers through his dark hair as my body relaxed, heated under the blanket of his warmth. He went up on his knees momentarily and removed his T-shirt and then leaned forward to unsnap my bra. It fell to the side, and he brought the straps down my arms, his eyes lingering on my nipples, hardening immediately in the crisp air.
"Just like rose petals," he whispered. And then he came back over me, his tongue slipping into my mouth. I shivered, sparks igniting between my legs.
My hands skated down his spine. His skin—like hot satin. He was so broad, so hard everywhere compared to my softness—sinfully, perfectly male. I loved the feel of his weight on top of me, the feel of his shifting muscles beneath my palms, causing a delicious stir in my belly. He was so much stronger than me, and yet he treated me so gently. The slow movement of his pelvis on mine set my blood on fire, and I moaned into his mouth. We had made love countless times already, but somehow each time felt new, different.
I brought my hand between us and ran my fingers over his stomach muscles, feeling them tense under my touch as he sucked in a breath. I loved to make my beautiful husband gasp. He smiled against my mouth, drawing away from me as I let out a small whimper of loss. Ah, but he was the one in control today. Leaning back, he took something from the basket and placed it on the blanket next to us. A bunch of grapes. "This," he said, his voice husky, "is a chardonnay grape." He plucked one from the bunch, sucking it between his lips and biting it in half. I watched, spellbound as he took it between his fingers and brought it to my nipple. I sucked in a breath, leaning my head back as my eyes fell closed. The feel of the wet fruit, warmed by his mouth felt delicious against my tender skin. He leaned down and licked the juice left by the grape, kissing each nipple before bringing the piece of grape to my lips.
"The flavor of a chardonnay grape is usually neutral, the flavors brought out by the oak," he said, rubbing it on my mouth. I licked my lips as he watched my tongue, his eyes growing dark and lazy with desire. I saw the pulse in his neck beating rapidly. I took the grape between my teeth and bit down, closing my eyes as the sweetness burst across my tongue. Grayson leaned in again and kissed me, swirling his tongue in my mouth.
"Hmm," he murmured against my ear as he pulled away from my mouth.
"You're doing well so far. A very attentive student," he teased.
"You're somewhat hard to ignore."
His lips tilted up in a small, satisfied smile and he leaned back and pulled another bunch of grapes from the basket, these bluish purple. "Cabernet Sauvignon," he said, his voice low. He again took one to his lips and bit it in half, trailing it down my belly. Leaning in to lick the juice, the feel of his hot tongue on the sensitive skin of my stomach causing my pulse to jump frantically. I clutched his head in my hands, gasping out a breath. He lifted his head and for one brief second, our eyes met and held, something unspoken flowing between us.
I love you, I thought. My heart is yours. I let my head fall back, too afraid to say the words for fear he wouldn't say them back.
"These grapes make a full-bodied wine," he said, his voice sounding as if he was fighting for control. Either I would never remember this lesson, or I would remember every word. Every sensation.
Before I even realized it, Grayson had stood and apparently taken off his shoes because he was now stripping off his jeans. He was back down beside me in only seconds, plucking another grape from a different bunch of deep purple fruit. He held it in his teeth and hooked his thumbs in my underwear. As I lifted my hips, he pulled them off, tossing them aside. Kneeling beside me, he ran his index finger between my legs and I moaned, parting for him. He ran the grape over my most sensitive skin as I fought to control my hips from thrusting toward him, wanting more. "Merlot," he practically growled. "Yields wine with rich berry-like flavors." I sighed in torment and relief as he licked up the juice. As his tongue swirled and lapped at me, the pleasure was so intense I thought I might orgasm in mere moments. I squirmed, panting out his name. He suddenly came over me again, my cool skin warmed again by the cover of his heat. He took himself in his hand and rubbed his swollen head on my entrance as I tilted my hips toward him in open invitation.
"Yes," he breathed, thrusting inside.
My breath caught at the now-familiar feel of him filling me. Nothing more wonderful. Nothing. Except, yes, there was.
He began to thrust.
I let out a high-pitched gasp at the sudden, intense pleasure and ran my hands down his back to end at his ass, relishing the hard feel of his working muscles under my palms. We moved together, like sensual poetry, the pleasure building higher and higher, until there was nowhere else to go except over the edge. I cried out, blissful spasms wracking my body as distantly, I heard Grayson grunt his own climax, his hips making two last clumsy thrusts as he came, shuddering and then breathing harshly into the crook of my neck. The world was suddenly still as I floated back to earth, Grayson's ragged breath slowing against my skin. The clouds floated lazily above, birds cried out in the surrounding trees, and my husband's heart beat against my own. And it felt as if the world was only filled with beauty.
"What other lessons can I look forward to as a winemaker's wife?" I asked breathlessly. Grayson laughed against my skin.
"Oh, I have lots of teaching to do. That's only the very beginning." He rolled off me and kissed me once more, smiling against my mouth. I shivered slightly in the crisp air, and we sat up and pulled on our clothes. Grayson took out a thermos of coffee, Charlotte's cranberry orange muffins, and a plastic container of strawberries. We ate our picnic breakfast together, laughing and chatting, and if there was happiness greater than this, I thought, I couldn't imagine what it was.