Friday morning, I wake up early and go for a run. When I return, there’s no sign of Miller in the house. I go to my room to pick up some clothes and a clean towel before heading to the bathroom.

The door is open ajar and as I push it in, I find him taking a shower.

Miller’s forehead rests on the glass wall of the shower, his eyes are closed, and one of his hands pumps his shaft fast. I know I should be walking away but I can’t stop admiring him. The water hits his broad shoulders. The drops flow down his chiseled body.

I can’t look away, not when he looks this gorgeous. I want to kiss him, run my lips down the hard, slick muscles of his body. Drop on my knees and take him deep into my mouth. It’s hard to suppress the desire to lick his head, taste him. Stroke him as I make him beg for more.

Instead, I watch him as he teases himself, cupping his balls, pulling his cock hard.

His desperate grunts make my legs quiver and my core ache with need. His lust mixes with mine, hanging in the steam. It’d be so easy to just step in and join him. I need to have some kind of release and the craving increases as his shallow breathing echoes through the bathroom.

“Fuck, Princess,” Miller gasps in a low, guttural sound.

I hold my breath and just as I’m about to turn around, he asks, “Did you enjoy the show, Clarice?”

“I—”

“You owe me one,” he says longingly, watching me.

“One what?” I stutter frozen, looking at him, desperate to give him whatever he asks me for and fighting it.

“I get to watch you touch yourself.”

I’d be lying if I say those words don’t affect me. That a part of me doesn’t want to let him watch, because I do have to take care of the ache between my legs. But I can’t let him know that. There’s no way I’m going down that road again. First, is the sound of sweaty bodies and then, my heart shattering. No thank you.

I huff, putting back on my armor. “In your dreams.”

“Baby, you have no idea what happens between us in my dreams, but it’s fucking mind-blowing.” He winks. “I can show you whenever you’re ready.”

Forty-Two

Claire

Winemaking is an art. A process that requires love, patience, and dedication. The Gyles family has done that for generations. As we tour the property, I learn how different each generation is from the previous ones in terms of their process and legacies. There’s so much heart put into what they do, it doesn’t feel like a business but an act of love.