Chapter 32
The wine cellar was cool and quiet, the air laced with oak, stone, and deep notes of aged cabernet.
Rows of bottles lined the walls, nestled in dark wooden shelves under ambient lighting. It was elegant. Romantic. Intentionally intimate.
Jamie trailed a finger along a label. “Some of these are older than me.”
Blake, crouched beside a dusty bottle of vintage French pinot, glanced up. “Most good things are.”
Jamie smirked. “You calling me immature or fresh?”
Blake stood slowly, stepped close. “I’m calling you tempting.”
Jamie swallowed.
They were supposed to be down here gathering intel – details for the campaign, photos of the space, noting how it could be marketed as a hidden gem for romantic proposals or private tastings.
They were not supposed to be making out against 19th-century stone.
And yet…
Jamie turned, back brushing the wall.
Blake followed.
Pressed him there – slowly, carefully, until there was just enough space between them to feel everything.
The air went thick.
Blake leaned in, voice low and rough against Jamie’s ear. “You know what I was going to do to you this morning?”
Jamie’s breath hitched. “What?”
“I was going to kiss you slow. Take off those boxers with my teeth. Make you say my name like a prayer.”
Jamie blinked.
Then kissed him.
Hard.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t soft. It was hungry. Needy. The kind of kiss that turned legs to jelly and made Jamie’s hips grind forward without thinking.
Blake met him there – hands gripping his waist, mouth devouring, groaning low when Jamie rolled against him just right.
Their bodies pressed tight.
Friction, heat, promise.
Jamie gasped into Blake’s mouth. “You’re going to kill me.”
Blake’s reply was a hand sliding lower. “Not before I ruin you.”
Jamie’s laugh turned into another moan.
Then – footsteps.
Echoing down the hall outside the cellar door.
They froze.
Blake rested his forehead against Jamie’s with a long-suffering groan. “Guess fate likes to keep the tension high.”
Jamie, still flushed, still panting, grinned. “Or hard.”
Blake snorted, pulling back. “I hate how much I love you.”
Jamie blinked.
But Blake was already grinning, stepping away to straighten his shirt. “Come on, Capulet. Let’s go be professional before I forget how.”
Jamie followed, lips swollen, shirt rumpled, pulse still racing.
And absolutely certain they were going to explode if fate didn’t give them a break soon.