Emily stepped into Adrian’s residence, immediately struck by the sheer elegance of the space.
It was grand but not ostentatious—a perfect blend of luxury and comfort. Expansive floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with natural light, showcasing a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The decor was a mix of sleek modern touches and classic sophistication, each piece of furniture curated with precision.But what caught her attention wasn’t the luxury, It was the fact that all her things had been moved directly into the master bedroom.A small knot of awkwardness settled in her chest.Turning toward Adrian, she hesitated before asking, “…Why is everything in the master bedroom?”Adrian, who had been checking a message on his phone, glanced at her without the slightest trace of concern.“It’s fine.”That’s it?Emily wanted to argue, but before she could, Lila strolled in, taking in the space with an approvingShe looked down at him, cheeks still warm, lashes lowered for a beat before lifting again, gaze steady. “I wasn’t going to let you do that,”she murmured. Then she leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and lingering. “I’m staying here this month,”she said.“I’ll work remotely. And when you’re done, I’ll go back with you.” Adrian blinked once—like he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “You’re staying?”he echoed, quiet, almost disbelieving. She nodded, her palm finding his chest, resting right over his heart.“I’m right here.” Something in him gave way at that—something tense and tired, something that had been bracing for distance. He pulled her closer until their bodies fit again, like puzzle pieces finally back in place. “You always say exactly what I need to hear,”he murmured into her hair. “I didn’t say it to make you feel better,”she replied, lips brushing against his collarbone.“I said it because I want to. I want to wake up next to you. I want to see wha
Her thighs trembled as she moved above him, each motion sending sparks down her spine, her breath catching with every shift that pulled him deeper into her. Heat coiled low in her belly—sharp and impossibly sweet. He didn’t rush her. His hands stayed at her hips, not guiding but grounding her, fingers brushing soothing circles over her skin as if to tell her she was safe to feel everything, all at once. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. The kiss started slow, warm and searching, but deepened quickly—her mouth hungry, her body even more so. The motion made him slip further into her, and she gasped, the pleasure nearly stealing her breath. His hands slid up her waist, reverent but trembling, trying to hold on while she unraveled him. Each time she sank down, a shudder broke through his frame. “Emily—”he choked, voice wrecked. She leaned down, pressing her lips to his throat, then lower, biting gently along his collarbone before whisperi
Her breath hitched as his hand found the curve of her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.“You’re everything,” he murmured against her collarbone, his lips brushing the delicate skin there, as if mapping a constellation only he could see.She smiled, her fingers threading through his hair, guiding him back to her gaze.Their eyes locked, and in that moment, the world beyond the room ceased to exist—just them, tangled in the quiet rhythm of their shared breaths.He moved with her, slow and deliberate, each touch a promise, each sigh a confession.Her dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her waist like spilled silk. His shirt followed, discarded without thought. They took their time, as if relearning each other—inch by inch, breath by breath.When his hand grazed the inside of her thigh, she shivered, not from cold but from the aching tenderness in his touch. He paused, looking up at her, asking without words.She answered with a kiss, deep
She kissed him. The taste of wine still lingered on her lips, but it was him she was searching for—him she was finding. When she finally pulled back, her voice was low, eyes damp. “Don’t ever store something that bitter again,”she whispered.“So strong. So harsh. So—sad.” Adrian didn’t answer with words. He leaned in and kissed her back—slowly, gently, as if trying to rewrite every ache she had just swallowed. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers. His breath was warm against her cheek. “It’s over,”he murmured.“All of it. Don’t be sad anymore. I have you now. That’s enough for me.” His arms wrapped around her again, drawing her close, and this time, he didn’t let go. They moved together, slowly, until the backs of her knees touched the edge of the round table in the center of the room. She didn’t resist when he lifted her up, settling her gently onto its surface. Through it all, their hands remained intertwined—never once breaking apart. “I added a n
The woman hesitated only a moment. Then nodded, retrieving it with careful hands and pouring a small glass. Emily lifted it to her nose first. Dark berries. Tobacco. Blackcurrant. A touch of smoke. Then the taste. Sharp. Tart. Uncompromising. It hit the tongue with a punch of acid and tannin—unyielding, intense, bone-dry. A wine that didn’t pretend to be gentle. Complex, yes. Structured, absolutely. But it carried the kind of bitterness that lingered long after the first sip. Emily swallowed slowly. The back of her throat burned. And suddenly, she understood. This was what it had felt like for him. That year. That silence. That kind of waiting—not soft or hopeful, but bruised and hollow. The wine didn’t cry out. It endured. Just like he had. She set the glass down. Her fingers hovered for a moment above the bottles…then reached for a new one. One that hadn’t yet been stored. “I’d like to add one,”she said. The attendant brought over the form. Emily
Night had fallen by the time Emily made the international call. She sat by the bedroom window, the city lights behind her casting long shadows across the floor. The world outside was quiet, stilled in twilight, but halfway across the globe, it was morning already—sunlight pouring over distant vineyards and limestone hills. She dialed the number listed at the bottom of the wine estate’s emails, her fingers steady despite the thrum in her chest. A few rings. Then a woman’s voice—warm, polished, with the faintest trace of a European accent—answered. “Good evening, Leclair Wine Estate.” Emily hesitated for half a breath. Then said gently,“Hello. My name is Emily Hart Blackwoods. I believe…you’ve been working with my husband for some time.” There was a pause on the other end. Then a small, delighted gasp. “Oh! Mrs. Blackwoods. My goodness—we’ve heard so much about you. It’s an honor to finally speak with you. Is there anything we can assist you with?” Emily’s lips curved