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“You know I have.” He grunts and shifts on his knees. “You’ve been so busy we don’t get a fucking minute alone anymore.”

  A bird flies overhead and slows, like it, too, wants a piece of the action. I give it a brief glance then concentrate on the act below, not wanting to miss a damn thing. Blue Hat finishes with the foreplay, grabs his cock in his big hand and grunts as he strokes it, once, twice, three times. On his knees, Mr. Hottie is working his own cock while the man about to ram home rips into a condom, sheathes himself and positions his crown at the opening. His ass clenches as he eases forward, offering only an inch at a time, and both men moan in bliss.

  “Please,” Mr. Hottie begs.

  “You need me, Luca?”

  “Yes,” he murmurs and rears back, trying to get the man in deeper.

  Blue Hat groans and presses down on Mr. Hottie’s back to prevent him from moving. “Stay still,” he commands through gritted teeth, letting the other man know exactly who’s in charge of the depth and penetration.

  And that is some very hot shit.

  I lean farther over the rail and tremble from head to toe as the men fuck, coveting each other with a ferocity I’ve never seen before, but have always wanted. Blue Hat runs his hands through the other man’s hair, fisting it and pulling his head back as he angles his body to get his cock in deeper. He seats himself high inside then pulls almost all the way out, only to slam back in again. Grunts and groans echo in my ears, and his hips jerk faster, with hard, blunt strokes that reach a maddening pace.

  I’m dying. Seriously dying of lust overload here. Honest to God, I’m going to have to start watching man on man porn. The genuine way these guys want each other…well, that’s seriously inspiring, and totally mind blowing.

  I caress my clit, strum it like a finely tuned instrument, and my entire body goes up in a burst of flames as heat burns through my blood. I mouth the word yes, not daring to speak and break the moment as tension builds inside me. I apply more pressure to my clit and stroke harder, reaching a fevered pitch that has me soaring over the edge. Every muscle in my body clenches. My orgasm so powerful and blinding, I sink to my knees and lean forward to ride out the pleasure.

  I stay like that for a long time, working to catch my breath as groans and a lot of curses reach my ears. When I’m finally able to see again, I peek down to catch Blue Hat throwing his head back. He’s gripping the guy’s hips for leverage and depleting himself inside.

  “So fucking good,” he groans.

  The man on his knees shoots into his hand, then they both collapse on to the grass, rolling on their backs. I duck away as they break apart, my heart crashing so hard against my chest, I’m sure it’s going to explode. That was…Jesus, I want to say amazing, but that doesn’t even begin to describe the hunger they just displayed.

  I hurry inside, quietly close the door behind me, and collapse on my bed, fanning my arms and legs out, desperate to cool my overheated, needy body. Outside the guys are talking quietly, but I can’t hear their muffled whispers through my closed door. Exhaustion overtakes me, my eyes fall shut, the vision of the two of them groping each other still buzzing through my brain.

  Why on earth can’t I inspire that kind of passion in a guy?

  All I ever get is sweet, gentle lovemaking. I am seriously so tired of the vanilla. Yeah, sure my dad is a minister, but come on, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be forced to my knees and taken hard. If only I had it in me to open my mouth and just ask for what I want. I can’t seem to do it, though. Probably because I’ve been lectured and browbeaten my whole life.

  Sex is for procreating, Olivia. Anything out of the norm is socially unacceptable—wrong.

  Dammit, I want wrong. The whole time I was with him, I’d wanted it wrong. What I wouldn’t have given for my ex to do depraved things with me. But no, he treated me with respect, which meant slow, gentle sex the missionary way. Don’t get me wrong. It was good, but I wanted more…needed more…had a deeper craving to be flipped over and corrupted.

  I quiver as I think about that, and deep between my legs, my sex clenches one last time. Unfortunately, men see me as a nice girl. Respectable. Private and reserved. That’s what you get when you’re the daughter of a minister—a goddamn gentleman in bed.

  I want a savage.

  I want to be turned and twisted. I want to be ravaged and ridden. I want to be made to do things. Dirty things. Like watch two guys make out, then have them both take me—own me.

  So what am I going to do about it?

  Chapter Two

  Gio

  My leg bounces restlessly under the table as I glance at the freshly baked breads and the eggs, meats, and cheeses spread out on the linen before me. I lift my head, rake my hands through my hair, and meet my father’s eyes—eyes that mirror my own—as it is in the Rossi family.

  “Look,” I begin for the hundredth time, even though I’m well aware that no matter what I say, no matter how many graphs and charts, how many brochures and ideas I present, I’ll never be able to change my father’s mind. The business is his to run, and he damn well plans to do things his way until I’m allowed to take over. “Business is declining rapidly. We need to make some big changes around here and draw in a younger crowd.”

  My father chews on a piece of buttered bread, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at me thoughtfully. Beside him, my grandfather, with the same blue eyes—Mediterranean blue my ex, Olivia, use to call mine—keeps his focus on his food, but I know he’s taking it all in, remaining quiet until he has something important to say.

  “Son,” Dad begins. “We’ve been over this. I understand you think you’re ready to take over the business, make changes, but we follow tradition in this family. We have for hundreds of years, and we’re not about to change that now.”

  For Christ’s sake, I have a NYU business degree under my belt. I have what it takes to run the place, and I want a chance to do it and turn over a profit before we lose it all. When I left here for college years ago, I had planned to work at my uncle’s marketing firm, but a situation with my girlfriend—or rather, ex-girlfriend now—had me returning. Since I’ve come home, business has been on a decline, and I can’t stand to sit back and watch it happen. But until I marry, no way will the family let me take over and make changes—because that’s how it is in the Rossi family.

  Except marriage isn’t in my future, not after walking out on the only girl I ever loved. I did it to protect her—from me. Yeah, I might be a good man, honorable, but when it comes to Olivia, I only have so much strength.

  My mom sits down beside me, her gaze sympathetic, but she can’t change my father’s mind, either. Not that I think she wants to. No, she wants me married, too—a sign of maturity they say, which is ridiculous. Frustration builds inside me, and my leg shakes harder. Can’t they see we could lose the place? Was being married and following tradition more important than keeping the villa that has been in our family for generations? Guess so, since my dad won’t budge. So what the fuck am I supposed to do?

  “What about Olivia, that nice girl you met in college?” Mom asks for the umpteenth time since I’ve returned home. Honest to fuck, I’m sick of her bringing up Olivia. It’s over between us. And while I know she’s trying to be helpful, I don’t want to have this discussion right now. “You used to talk about her all the time when you came home for the holidays, and I’ve not seen you date anyone since you returned for good. I think you might still be holding out for her.”

  My entire body stiffens. Did my mother really think I was about to call my ex-girlfriend out of the blue, ask her to give up everything, move to Tuscany, and marry me? Yeah, like that’s going to happen. Beside, she hates me, and even though I’ve never stopped thinking of her, never been able to get over her, she’s too nice, too sweet for a guy like me. I did what I had to do to protect her, and that meant up and leaving when she talked about a future after college. I bite the inside of my mouth and try to block the haunted look she gave me when I left, the look
that that still pains me to this day.

  I try to swallow past the lump in my throat but I can’t. Shit, it still fucking hurts.

  “Whatever happened between you two, anyway?” Dad asks.

  “Nothing,” I say much too quickly, too harshly.

  Grandpa lifts his head, and those blue Rossi eyes lock on mine. “So then, maybe you should think about it.”

  Grandpa and I have a stare off. Seconds turn into minutes, and I feel something inside me soften. Fuck, maybe he’s right. Maybe I should call Olivia. Grandpa shouldn’t be working the front counter because our tight budget can’t afford new staff. The changes I want to make will draw in a new crowd, fresh blood, but I can’t put any new plans in place if I’m not married. Stupid, fucking family tradition. My stomach tightens. Maybe I should call her, beg her to forgive me…hide the side of me that would surely frighten the hell out of a sweet girl like her.

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I say to appease them. I’m pretty sure my entire family knows about Luca and me, and while they seem to quietly accept what’s between us, they really want me to take a wife. I wonder if it’s important to them for tradition, or because they really know how much I care about Olivia. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and toss it onto the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

  My mom and dad both nod, and their whispered words reach my ears as I step out of the dining room and make my way outside. I have a load of paperwork on my desk, but I need to talk to Luca. My best friend always knows the right things to say when I’m in a shit mood.

  As the morning sunshine climbs the mountain, it does nothing to lighten my dark mood. I stretch out my arms and glance up the hill to see if Luca is inspecting the grapes. When my search comes up empty, I make my way to the winery. I open the doors and find him checking the temperatures on the stainless steel tanks.

  Luca might be the same age as me, which is considered young for a vintner, but his family has been in the winemaking business for years. Someone from every generation has worked for the Rossi family for as long as anyone can remember. Luca and I had been friends since kindergarten, and just a few years ago, after his father retired, he took over as head vintner. At least he didn’t have to get married to take the position.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Hey,” I say.

  Dimples spread across his face as he sees me coming his way. “What’s up?” he asks. Then he drops the clipboard to his side, frowning as his astute eyes move over me.

  I scrub the scuff on my chin. “Yeah,” is all I say.

  He hooks a finger through my belt loop and drags me to him. I can already feel his cock growing, pressing against my groin. “What do you need?” he asks.

  Jesus, I love the guy. One look at my sulking face and he’s ready and willing to do whatever it takes to put a smile back on it. On the other side of the room, a few guys are working, and while there are lots of things Luca could do to take my mind off shit for thirty minutes or so, now is not the time or place.

  I fist his hair, wrap it around my hand, and hold for a second. He waits for my command, but I let go and roughly push him off me. He backs off, no questions.

  “I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

  Luca nods. He knows what I’m talking about. We have no secrets. The first time we dared to kiss—at seventeen, our need for one another too strong to deny another second—we made a pact to always be honest.

  “You’re going to have to get married, dude. If you want to save this place, you have no choice.”

  I scoff. “No kidding.”

  “Why don’t you call her?”

  I shake my head. “Not you, too. Fuck, Luca.”

  Luca puts his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, you haven’t met anyone else because you’ve been hung up on her for years. Maybe she still wants a future with you.”

  “She’s a nice girl, Luca.” I pause and wave my hand back and forth between the two of us. “This…I wouldn’t want to keep it a secret from her, and as much as I’d kill to have her a part of it, she’d never understand.” I draw a breath and let it out slowly as I stare at Luca. I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. Quitting him would be like giving up breathing. He’s one part of my soul. Olivia is the other. And while Luca accepts the side of me that needs to dominate and control, it would scare Olivia half to death.

  “How do you know she wouldn’t accept all sides of you?”

  “I just do, okay.”

  “Stop the bullshit and answer the fucking question.” My best friend has no trouble baring himself to me, letting me own him sexually, but outside the bedroom, he can be a cocky bastard who has no trouble pushing back. Truthfully, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “Sex with her was always sweet and tender. It was great because it was with her, but sooner or later I was going to break, order her around, and demand things of her.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, like she lay herself across the mattress, breasts up, head dangling over the edge so I could shove my cock all the way down her throat and watch her take it.” I swallow. Hard. “That’s just one of the milder things I want to do with her.”

  I can feel my dick harden as I think about her in that position. Flat on her back, breasts in the air, my cock in her throat while Luca fucks her sweet pussy. Luca…always in the scenario.

  “Jesus. She’s just not that kind of girl, and I don’t want to be the one to corrupt her. Besides, I’ll bet my left nut she’d hang up if I tried to call.”

  I scrub my jaw and clench down hard enough to break teeth, hating how much I’d hurt her when I walked away. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do, which was why I left in the first place.

  Luca returns his focus to his work and checks something on the steel take. As he writes on the clipboard, he says, “Maybe she’d be into all this.”

  I shrug, but Luca isn’t looking at me. “Doubtful.”

  “You won’t know until you try.”

  “Luca…”

  He turns back to me, his eyes serious, like he’s had enough of my shit for the day. “Okay, find someone else and marry them already, before you lose the fucking vineyard.”

  “If my parents thought for one minute that I was faking a marriage, they’d never sign the papers over.”

  “Fine, then. Make a deal with Olivia. Tit for tat. You give her something she needs in exchange for being your wife. Your parents will believe that marriage is real since you’ve been obsessing over her for years. You get the papers, and in one year, or less, or however the fuck long, you break up. If you don’t lay a hand on her, you won’t be tempted to do the darker things you want.”

  I look at him as I chew on his idea. Ludicrous? Yes. But Jesus, it just might work. It’s not like I haven’t kept track of her over the years. I know she’s stuck in a shitty, dead-end job in Seattle. She hates the rain, so why she went to Seattle after NYU is beyond me. Then again, she probably went halfway across the country to get as far away from me as possible. But one call to my uncle in New York and I’d have her working in a firm that respects her.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” I say.

  “Good. Decision made. Make it happen.”

  “You know if this happened, you and I…” I stop to really drive the point home. “We can’t.”

  “I know.”

  “I love the fuck out of you Luca, you know that, but I’m not a cheater. Even if the marriage is fake.”

  His smile is slow, and his eyes darken. “I love the fuck out of you, too, Gio. Nothing is going to change that. I’ve always accepted that you loved Olivia, too. She’s a part of you, which makes her a part of me, too.”

  I fist my hair. “The only way we could be together is if it was the three of us, and that’s not going to happen.”

  Luca steps up to me and lowers his voice. “Listen, you have to do what you have to do save this place. That’s the priority. As for us, I have a feeling things will work out the way they’re su
pposed to.”

  He turns from me, and I take in his swagger as he walks away, moving from tank to tank. With my thoughts racing a million miles an hour, I head to the fields. If I called her, would she even talk to me? I walk along the rows of grapes, stopping to examine a few, the idea of seeing Olivia again both exciting and frightening. I catch a warm, familiar scent, a mix of vanilla and honey. It takes me back to happier times when I was in Olivia’s bed. But I’m only recalling the scent because she’s at the forefront of my brain.

  I walk to the next row of vines, and when the scent grows stronger, I look up from the plants I’m examining. I freeze, as my blood stops flowing and my lungs seize.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  I blink, sure I’m hallucinating. No way in hell would Olivia be standing in my vineyard tossing grapes in the air and catching them in her mouth—the sweet, pouty mouth that I’d love to feel wrapped around my cock. It can’t be a coincidence. I don’t believe in them. There has to be something bigger at work here, something that has reunited us when I needed her most.

  “Olivia?” She turns slowly, and even though she’s too focused on catching the grapes and doesn’t realize it’s me yet, I say, “Marry me.”

  A gasp of surprise catches in her throat as the round fruit slides in, lodging itself deep and blocking her airflow. Her eyes go wide as she grasps her neck.

  Oh Jesus.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia

  I can’t breathe.

  Oh my God. I’m going to die. I work to suck in air, but all I do is draw the grape in deeper. Gio spins me around—at least I think it’s Gio—and his strong hands circle my stomach. He gives hard, upward thrusts, but as my vision fades, I’m sure this is it—and to die without having awesome sex really sucks. My life flashes before my eyes, and I’m not even sure it’s worth watching until I see him. I’ve reached the end. No way, no how could he be here, right?

  Another hard thrust dislodges the grape, and it shoots from my mouth like a cork from a bottle. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so happy to be alive. I gasp and fill my lungs, reveling in the fresh country air. My heart rate begins to slow, my vision expanding, and I turn to see my savior—then again, I probably wouldn’t have choked on the grape had he not called my name and asked me to marry him.