Another half an hour into the ball—and several more glasses of Bantham wine, which I have to admit, tastes a lot better than I remember it tasting. Then again, when was the last time I tried any? I’m not even sure. I’ve spent so much of my life hating this family, their company, their product, but I’ve never really given it a shot, or tried it myself.

Darius was right. I’ve just been letting my parents’ opinions define my own.

Well, not anymore. From now on, I’m making up my own mind about things. Starting with Bantham wines. I’ve sampled the Merlot, and then their Cab next. Ours is better, of course, even in my unbiased view. But theirs isn’t half bad. In fact, by the time Darius insists on ordering me another glass of the Merlot, I’d be willing to admit that this varietal might be a bit fuller bodied and more complex than ours.

But only this varietal. And only the 2015 harvest. So, you know, it’s not a total loss for us.

Besides, from the look on Darius’s face when he drinks just as many glasses of my family’s wine, he wasn’t kidding when he said he thinks we make a solid vintage. We take turns flashing one another looks across the crowd as we both make an effort to network and mingle as promised. But somehow our eyes keep finding their way back to one another, no matter how far apart we are in this crowded, busy room.

Finally, after a couple hours of chatting to other attendees and making more than a few connections that I think will prove useful in the future, I feel fingertips brush my elbow. I turn to find Darius beside me, smirking at me, that one damn sexy dimple of his showing.

“May I borrow Ms. Spring for a moment?” he asks, mostly directed at the trio of grape growers I’m standing in the middle of, two women and a man from Napa whose contact info I just picked up after all four of us were complaining about a similar issue with our white varietals last spring.

“Of course,” they answer in unison, and none of them, luckily, seem to notice the hint of mischief sparkling in Darius’s eye.

“Come to admit our Cab is superior to yours?” I ask with one eyebrow arched, grinning myself as Darius leads me back across the ballroom, which we’ve flitted in and out of all evening. He still has half a glass of my wine clutched in his hand, yet I expect him to lead me back to the bar for another round of comparing and arguing over superiority, the way we’ve been doing good-naturedly all evening.

Instead, he takes a sharp left past the last banquet table, and tugs me into a little side room off the main hall.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, though I can’t keep the laughter out of my voice either. Okay, so I might be slightly wine drunk. “Do you think we’re meant to be back here?” I glance around at the room, but I barely get a good look at it—coat racks, it looks like—before he steers me through a door at the far end, hidden behind a rack of black catering jackets. This next room is even smaller, and far enough from the banquet hall that only faint strains of voices and music float through the walls.

Other than us, there’s nothing else in the tight room except for a desk with some papers scattered across the top, and what looks like someone’s briefcase that they’ve stashed in here for safekeeping.

Darius pushes the door shut behind us, and the room turns a faint, glowing red, the only light inside coming from the EXIT sign illuminated above the door. “We’re definitely not meant to be back here,” Darius says, as he plucks my glass of wine from my hand, and places it next to his own glass on the far edge of the desk, up against the wall.

“This is your new plan to sabotage my winery then?” I ask, smirking. “Lure me into a restricted area and then have me arrested for breaking and entering? I’ve got to say, it’s smart, Bantham.”

He laughs and leans in to wrap both his arms around my waist, tugging me against him sharply, until our bodies collide. My hands slide up his chest, tracing the edges of his muscles through his sharply tailored tux. “Mm, it would be a good plan, I have to admit. But much as I’d love to see you in handcuffs, Spring, I don’t plan on letting anyone else know we’re in this room.” His hands slide up my waist, and one slips around my neck to tuck under my chin. He tilts my head back, gazes into my eyes. His seem to glow in the dim, reflected light, and I can’t look away, transfixed. “I want you all to myself, you see,” he whispers, just before he kisses me again.

It’s not like earlier when he kissed me by the bar, a light peck that was more daring than anything else. Seeing how much I’d let him get away with in public. The answer is not much. Not when it could set off a rumor chain that could ruin us both.

But here, now… He’s right. There’s nobody to see us. He has me all to himself. And I’ve got him alone, too.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down against me, hard. He chuckles against my lips and turns to kiss his way down my neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin below my ear, just hard enough to make me gasp.

“Of course, depending how quiet you can be, we may or may not get this place to ourselves for long,” he points out, smirking.

“You really think I’d let anyone find us in here like this?” I ask, and to emphasize my point, I reach down to start undoing the buttons of his shirt.

I only get halfway before he catches my wrists, both of them in just one of his large hands, and tugs my hands gently up over my head, effectively rendering me immobile. “I don’t think you’d be loud on purpose,” he admits, as he runs his other hand down my front, pausing to circle his fingertips across each of my breasts, finding my nipple, rolling it gently, hard enough to make them start to harden a little, before he releases me, and keeps his hand sliding down, down… “But earlier in that shower house, I have to say, you made quite a lot of noise, Holly.”

I swallow hard, my mouth going dry at the memories of how loudly I screamed. “That was different,” I say. “I knew we were alone. I knew it was safe to let go.”

“Really.” His smirk widens in the dim light. His hand slides over my belly. Then he slips it beneath the hem of my skirt to flatten his palm against the bare skin of my thigh. The touch of his rough palm makes my whole body tingle. “So, if I were to, say, make you come again, you wouldn’t be as loud this time?”

A lump forms in my throat. I try desperately to think back to the bathhouse. How in control was I? But it’s hard to focus when Darius inches his hand higher, higher, until his thumb hooks under the thin fabric of the panties I chose tonight. Panties that are entirely not up to the job of keeping me contained. Not when Darius is around. I can tell I’m already wet in anticipation. But I square my shoulders anyway, and lie with confidence. “Of course I won’t. I can control myself.”

He chuckles softly, the sound disbelieving and challenging at once. “Now, that I’d like to test,” he murmurs. With that, he tugs my panties down. They slide off my hips, and he pushes them over my thighs. Once freed, they drop to the floor with a sound that makes him chuckle again, and advance toward me, backing me up until the backs of my thighs bump against the desk. “It’s nice to see you’re as eager for me as ever,” he whispers. His hand parts my thighs, and a soft gasp escapes my lips as his fingers spread my pussy lips, stroking slowly up the length of my slit, all the way to my clit.

When he touches it, my whole body jerks, electric with sensation. But I keep my mouth clamped shut, my gaze steady and daring. “Go ahead and try me,” I reply, and I’m proud that my voice remains steady, not a tremor in it.

Darius laughs. “Oh I will.” Then he drops his hand from my slit and releases my wrists. Instead, he wraps both hands around my waist and lifts me easily onto the edge of the table. From there, he flips my skirt up and spreads my legs, kneeling between them, just before he tugs me closer to the edge, so my ass is almost hanging off.

I lean back on my elbows, my head tilted down to look at him as I realize what he’s about to do. “You are so dirty, Darius, have I mentioned that?”

“Incredibly dirty,” he agrees, then leans in and bites the soft skin of my inner thigh, hard enough to make me gasp. “But then, you’re just as naughty, aren’t you, Holly?”

“So very naughty,” I answer, grinning. Then I inhale sharply again, distracted as he begins to kiss and suck and nip his way up my inner thighs, alternating from one side to the next. The anticipation alone is enough to drive me wild, making my belly feel tight, my clit swollen with want.

His tongue traces the creases where my thighs meet my hips, and the sensation makes me groan with pleasure. Then he kisses his way across my freshly shaven mound, his tongue exploring every inch of my soft skin, hot and wet against me. He pauses to blow on the spots he just licked, and I shiver at the cooling sensation, then the heat again as he kisses me once more. The contrast seems to heighten my nerves, make everything sharper.

He parts my legs with both strong hands, and uses one hand to spread my pussy lips apart, pausing to admire the view apparently, as he kneels between my legs.

“God, you really do have a perfect pussy.” His eyes flash up to catch mine. “So tight and beautiful and…” He leans in and traces his tongue along my slit. The unexpected sudden rush of heat makes my head fall back, and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from moaning. “Delicious,” he finishes, his breath hot now against my wet pussy as he talks.

“Are you going to tease me all night, or try to make me get us both caught?” I ask, trying to keep my voice lighthearted. But he must sense the latent impatient desire in my tone, because he laughs softly in response.

“Patience, dirty girl. I’m just getting started.” His mouth closes over my pussy lips, and his tongue delves into my slit. He licks me all the way from back to front and front to back, his lips sealed tight over me, his tongue flicking past my clit every other stroke, lightly touching it, just enough to make me breathe in hard.

I keep my mouth shut, because I know that’s the only way I have any hope of not repeating how much noise I made in the bathhouse earlier. Even so, it’s hard not to moan, especially when Darius plunges his tongue between my folds, deep into my pussy, and curls the tip of it, dragging it along my inner walls, one after another.

He starts to stroke in and out of me, and my arms tremble, trying to support my weight half-leaning back on the desk. But I don’t want to lie down completely, because I’m savoring my view from here. Darius’s tousled hair looking more disheveled now, after I’ve run my hands through it. His eyes finding mine, his mouth hungrily devouring me. It’s hot as hell to watch.

He grips my ass hard with both hands, raises my hips a little off the desk, and pushes his tongue deeper into me. I can’t help it—a little ahh of pleasure escapes me then, and Darius laughs against me, not taking his mouth away. The vibration from his laughter makes me buck against his face, my hips thrusting up of their own accord to get closer to him because I want more, more, more.

He licks me faster, harder. My eyes flutter half closed, and I groan at the back of my throat, clenching my lips hard to prevent them from opening.

Then he flattens his tongue, and pulls out of me, starts to lick my clit over and over in flat, long strokes. At that point, the pressure has built up too high. I can’t focus on anything except the waves of pleasure crashing over me.

“Yes, yes, right there, fuck,” I hiss, and my voice turns higher pitched, becomes a little faint cry as the orgasm sweeps through me, over me. My whole body shakes, my pussy clenching and releasing.

Darius doesn’t even pause or break though. He presses his tongue inside me again, licking me from the inside, hard and fast, eating me out like nobody ever has before.

I’m still high on my first orgasm, and it doesn’t take long for the sensation of the tip of his tongue driving against my G-spot to get me nearing the edge again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I vaguely hear myself, cussing in a low voice to keep myself from doing anything louder.

He laughs against me, and that vibration again is what does it, pushes me over to a second climax. The only sound I let out this time is a low, desperate moan, but apparently that’s enough.

We both hear it at the same time. A throat clearing in the neighboring room, and then the sound of creaking as someone else pushes the coat rack we moved aside. “Is someone in there?” asks a distant, polite male voice.

We jerk into action as though shocked. I leap off the desk and pull my dress down. Darius stands up in one smooth motion. I notice his hand fly to his pocket, and I realize that as he stood, he scooped up my panties from the floor. He puts them into his suit pocket now, and I’m left shaking on my heels, my soaking wet pussy bare underneath my dress.

Darius opens the door while I’m still adjusting my gown, trying to smoothe out any creases and reaching up to pat my hair at the same time, wondering how wild it’s gotten.

“Yes, hello, we were just leaving,” Darius tells the man outside in an easy, steady tone. How he can do that right now, I have no idea. Then again, he wasn’t the one just having multiple orgasms.

“You aren’t supposed to be in here,” says a man in a uniform, with a name pin on his lapel.

“So sorry about that, George,” Darius replies, checking the name tag quickly. “You see, my friend Holly Spring here had a wardrobe mishap that we needed some, ah, privacy to deal with.”

Don’t say my name you jerk! I want to shout. But I plaster on a bright smile instead and teeter over to stand beside Darius, hoping my smile looks apologetic and sympathetic rather than panicked. “I’m sure you understand. Dresses these days, get tears in the worst places…” I gesture vaguely at my chest, and the man’s face turns a bright red.

“Of course, miss. But I have to ask you to please leave now. If you need a private location to tend to any other issues, might I suggest the ladies’ room? It’s on the far side of the ballroom, near the garden entrance.”

“Right, of course. I should have thought of that first.” I laugh, a little hysterically, and hope I just come across as tipsy and flustered. Not freshly tongued senseless.

“Thank you again for your understanding,” Darius says as he rests a hand at the small of my back and smoothly guides me through the exit, back into the ballroom.

“You are an utter jerk,” I whisper under my breath, though I can’t keep my tone angry for long. I end on a laugh, and Darius joins me, grinning sideways down at me.

“Well you’re the one who promised you could stay quiet. Not my fault you lose all control when it comes to me.”

“You wish,” I reply, teasingly rolling my eyes as we reach the main ballroom. But a part of me realizes, deep down, that he’s all too right about that.