We got ready for bed, and I was feeling nervous, not because I was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear, but because of what we’d talked about earlier. I had just told Eric, in not so many words, that I wanted to have sex with him, but not until tomorrow, or something like that. I couldn’t explain to him what difference a day was going to make; it just did. Maybe I would remember something important in that time, maybe I would realize that it didn’t matter that I had amnesia, maybe…anything. I sighed, and put toothpaste on my toothbrush. Eric had climbed into bed and was leaned against the headboard flipping channels on the TV.
When I finished brushing my teeth, I turned and leaned on the vanity, lost in my thoughts. I wondered if I normally watched TV in bed? My room in Saugatuck didn’t have a television in it, but I wasn’t sure if that room was set up the way I wanted it yet. What was Eric’s house like? He said he had three Corvettes. How big was his garage? Holy hell, I was procrastinating.
He looked over at me and grinned. “Sookie, come to bed. I don’t bite.”
“I know.” I pushed off from the counter and walked towards the bed. “I was wondering if I watched TV in bed, and then I wondered if you do when you’re at home?”
“Deep thoughts.” He teased. “I do, actually. I work crazy hours. You know, the vampire scenes are all shot at night. Sometimes I watch TV in bed to unwind when I get home.”
I climbed into next to him, snuggling as he put an arm around me. He’d settled on watching CNN. “What shows do you watch?”
I hoped I wasn’t totally confusing him, or sending mixed messages. I wanted us to still be comfortable, and we could certainly make out a little more. I wasn’t opposed to that, it was just everything else I was freaking out about.
“The only thing I watch religiously is Law & Order, you know the one that follows a case all the way from the murder through a trial on every episode? That show is always good. What do you like to watch?”
“Well, I watch that show, but I wouldn’t say religiously. And I’m kind of embarrassed that you only really watch one thing. I watch all kinds of stuff, Project Runway, Iron Chef, Lost, Castle.” I shrugged. “It’s kind of random. Bill used to watch a lot on the History Channel, but,” I faked a yawn, “It didn’t interest me. Do you watch news or weather in the morning?”
“News, so it covers both. You?”
“What? You don’t think I watch the news?” I had sat up, a little indignant.
“Ah. No.” He laughed.
“Interesting, that you remember what you watch but not if you watch in bed.”
“Oh.” Okay, not an asshole. I couldn’t think of what to say to that.
He turned off the TV and set the remote on the night stand, then slid us down on the bed. He rolled onto his side and looked at me. It wasn’t totally dark in the room, thanks to the way hotel draperies never quite close all the way, so I could see his questioning expression.
He traced my lip with his thumb and whispered, “You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
His lip curled into a smile, just before his mouth covered mine. His tongue teased my lips and I responded in kind. I could feel the heat coming off his body. My hand slid along his naked back while his fingers threaded into my hair. Our tongues swirled and danced, and our legs tangled together. His hand moved down my spine, and his warm palm skimmed my back. I groaned, pulling his hips against mine, rocking against him. He kissed and nipped my neck, hitting the sensitive spot below my ear.
We made out like teenagers, well, more like college students, driving each other crazy. I kissed him until I couldn’t breathe, and ran my hands over his body, learning his lines and curves. Eric finally moved his hands under my shirt to touch my aching breasts; and although it felt amazing, I wondered if we’d crossed a line that would push one of us over the cliff. He kissed me harder, and our mouths mimicked what we could have been doing with our lower bodies. Our hips ground together and we were both panting.
His hand was on my hip, fingers teasing the elastic of my boy shorts, and he asked permission with his eyes. I nodded, my own hand moving to his waistband, and we paused, to each remove our under things. He kissed me as his hand moved down my front, his fingers inching towards the place I ached to be touched. I couldn’t think. My body moved against him, as he caressed me with his fingers, his thumb working my clit. My hand trailed down his abdomen, and I felt him inhale, his muscles tensing in anticipation. His body was long and lean. My fingers traced over his hipbone, and down, until they wrapped around his hard length. Feeling his size against my back was one thing, but touching him was entirely different; better, amazing. I wondered how he would fit, and moaned just thinking about it. I ran my thumb over the tip, spreading around the moisture that had pearled there.
My body knew what it wanted, and climbed towards release with each pass of his hand. When he first slid one finger into me, then two, my brain began to overload. The sensations swirled in my head, my palm moving over his hard shaft, his fingers stroking my core, our mouths tangling, and my racing pulse. They combined, sending wild sparks through my body. I whimpered and moaned as he muttered my name, moving to kiss my neck and jaw.
We worked each other, and I knew the only thing that could feel better, would be if we were joined. My orgasm built and I pumped my hand faster, channeling my feelings into him, breaking stride as I came on his hand, arching my back with a gasp. When my head cleared, I returned my attention to him, stroking and twisting my hand, learning what he liked. I licked along his jaw and kissed his neck, then grazed my teeth over his Adams Apple. He tensed and muttered a curse, his release coming in spurts on both of us.
We lay together, breathing heavy, rubbing hands on each others backs. He kissed my forehead gently and smiled. I felt shy again, and like a fool, because really, what difference could having actual sex make after we had shared that? Perhaps the difference was in my mind, not in my heart, or vice versa. I couldn’t explain it to myself, let alone him.
“I’m sorry. For, not, well; for making you wait.”
“What?” He looked confused. “Jesus, Sookie. I feel like I have to get you home before curfew or something, but that was incredible. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
He reached to the side and did something with one of the pillows. After a minute, I figured out he was taking off the case. Then he wiped off his chest and my shirt before throwing the makeshift towel to the floor. He pulled me against him, stretching his body and sighing, in what sounded like contentment.
“Sookie, I don’t want to sound like someone’s father when I say this, but, don’t ever feel like you have to apologize for making a man wait. Okay?”
I laughed. “You do sound like a dad.”
“I’m serious. I’ll wait as long as you want.”
Yeah, I wasn’t going to be able to resist much longer after that. All I could manage to say was, “Thank you.”
I have no idea how I fell asleep so fast, well, I do; a good orgasm will do that to me. One minute I was wrapped around Sookie, rubbing circles on her back and imagining how great the sex would be if making out was that incredible, the next thing I knew, it was several hours later and I felt her moving off the bed to go to the bathroom.
She washed her hands and turned, looking towards the bed, not realizing I was awake.
“Come back to bed.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Not like last night.”
My chest shook, quietly laughing. “Come here. I’m cold.” I wasn’t, but maybe she’d feel guilty and come snuggle against me. Shit. I was in deep trouble with her.
She climbed in bed, rolling to her side, backing her ass into my groin and wiggling to press her back against my chest. I put an arm around her but stopped my inner caveman from throwing my leg over hers and locking her against me. She took my hand, pulling my arm against her chest, holding it tucked between both of her arms.
She sighed, and after a few minutes her breathing evened out, and she was asleep. I listened to her, the steady sounds of her inhaling and exhaling, the rhythmic sound was like listening to the waves and my sleep came shortly later.
I woke in the morning to find her lying on her side watching me.
I licked my lips, my mouth was dry. “How long have you been up?”
“You want me to go get coffee?”
She shrugged. “When you feel like it.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You love coffee.”
“I like being in bed with you.”
“Fuck. I better get up.”
She giggled, her hand touching my chest as she laughed. My dick definitely liked waking up near her.
The hotel had a continental breakfast, so I headed down to make a tray filled with coffee, yogurt and fruit. We ate and showered, trying to pretend that the sexual tension wasn’t as thick as honey. We checked out of the hotel, earlier than I expected, but I don’t think we could have spent much longer in the room without attacking each other. Sookie offered to drive, and after several jokes about whether or not she could remember how, I gave her the keys.
I was enjoying being the passenger, taking in the green of the landscape and watching the scenery roll by. She continued giving me a commentary about the towns we were passing through like she had the day before, and told me about some of the wineries she wanted to visit. I was particularly interested in one that she described as a chateau style winery and bed and breakfast, sitting on the top of a hill, surrounded by vineyard. Not only did it sound beautiful, but Sookie said they made her favorite sparkling wine.
We arrived at the hotel, and I knew not to ask if she wanted to come in with me. We went into the lobby, where I was a little surprised and impressed by the surroundings. The Grand Traverse Resort and Spa rivaled some of the finest hotels I’ve seen. It had a woodsy theme, their logo was a bear, yet it was still elegant, with an air of sophistication.
While I went to check in, Sookie spoke to the concierge about a tour of the wineries so that we didn’t need to drive after wine tasting. I was surprised for the second time at the hotel, upon learning that Pam had reserved us a condo. Why the hell she hadn’t just gotten us a room, I had no idea. I accepted the keys and the brochures, along with a map of the property. Sookie was still chatting with the concierge, who was clearly flirting with her, until his eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw me. That’s right. She’s with me.
I put my hands on Sookie’s shoulders, my chest just touching her back, and nodded a greeting at the concierge. He stuttered, then gave us information about a wine tour leaving shortly, but recommended renting a limousine for a private tour. The cost didn’t bother me, but like the Corvette, the idea of doing something so pretentious or star-like, just wasn’t me; and it certainly wasn’t Sookie. We drove over to our condo to freshen up, then came right back to wait for the tour.
We waited in the lobby for the tour group, and a few people began to murmur and look in my direction. I wondered if perhaps I’d made the wrong choice about going with a group, but Sookie stood on her tiptoes, cupping my face and giving me a sweet kiss, and I forgot what I was concerned about. Our guide arrived, and we joined several other couples moving towards the large van.
Once we were all seated, the guide asked us to introduce ourselves to each other. Of the three couples touring with us, two were traveling together from Kalamazoo downstate, and were about my parents age. The wives spoke so softly that I didn’t catch their names, but the husbands were both named Bob. They joked that we could call them red Bob and blue Bob, because of their shirt colors, and Sookie thought that was hysterical. The other couple, Steven and Sarah Newlin, looked about our age, and were from Dallas. Sookie introduced the two of us, which I thought was adorable, and there were several chuckles from the group; clearly they all knew who I was and where I lived. Then, as he spoke, I decided that Charles, our guide, was my new best friend.
“So, let’s get on the same page. We’re all here to check out wineries and drink wine. I’d like to suggest that we treat Eric here, like we would any other tourist that you’d encounter. I’m sure he’d graciously have his picture taken with you, but let’s not video tape or take pictures of him like crazy paparazzi, alright?” Everyone murmured their assent like they would have never done such a thing, and who knows maybe they wouldn’t, but I loved Charles for reminding them I was here to vacation as well.
We were going to four wineries on Old Mission Peninsula and stopping for lunch. The names of the wineries were even cool; Chateau Chantal, Bowers Harbor, Chateau Grand Traverse and Black Star Farms. I was honestly more of a beer guy, but I could appreciate good wine. My parents were both raised in Europe and had wine with every evening meal. My brothers and I had grown up listening to them talk about the bouquets, depth and finishes of wine.
We drove to the peninsula, and Charles explained we were starting at the furthest winery and working our way back. It took about a half an hour, and I was still amazed at how lush the landscape looked, but now it was dotted with vineyards and looked strikingly like northern California. The van turned onto a winding driveway to Chateau Chantal, and Sookie excitedly told me that this was the winery she had told me about on the drive the day before.
The place was amazing, and you couldn’t help but take a look around you before going into the tasting room, the chateau looked out over Grand Traverse Bay and rolling vineyards. After everyone had taken some pictures of the surrounding landscape, we filed into the tasting room, lining up along the bar to begin tasting. We were each given a glass and a menu of wines available to sample, and although I knew what kinds of wine I liked, I had no idea how to go about tasting.
Sookie smiled at me. “Dry before sweet, white before red, and old before young. That’s all you need to remember.”
Unfortunately, Sookie only remembered which wines she liked at this winery, so as the day went on, she sampled as many as she could, and took sips of mine as well. We stopped for lunch at Bowers Harbor Inn, which was supposed to be haunted. We split a bottle of wine from the last winery we’d visited, which was also called Bowers Harbor, but it was a mile or so away from the restaurant.
We sat with the Newlins, chatting as we waited for our food, and the ladies seemed to hit it off. Steve seemed a little intimidated by me, but we talked about sports, the universal man topic, and got along fine. It was interesting to listen to Sookie talk with Sarah, hearing the way she maneuvered the conversation around things that she couldn’t remember. My favorite part of lunch was the way Sookie’s eyes danced when she told them how we met through her blog, it was teasing and flirty, and the Newlins had no idea she was lying through her teeth.
By the time we stepped into the fourth winery, Black Star Farms, Sookie’s cheeks were red and she was giggling about everything. I felt good, but Sookie appeared to be feeling great. I briefly worried about her puking, but she had kissed me in the van and I’d put it out of my mind. Her kisses had a way of distracting me. We had purchased wine at each stop, and had well over a case between us in the back of the van.
Our group stood in a row at the bar, reviewing the list of wines. Sookie and Sarah seemed to have the same taste in wines, so they were comparing which descriptions sounded interesting to them. At this point, all of the wines were kind of tasting the same to me. I picked a couple that sounded good; then sipped my wine and continued watching Sookie. She captivated me, her expressions, her laugh, the little things she still couldn’t remember, and the look on her face when she realized she remembered something.
Sookie laughed at something Sarah said and I felt a hand on my elbow. I turned. It was one of the Bob’s trying to get my attention. “How long are you kids in town?”
“Three days. You?”
“Ten days. The kids are coming up with the grand-kids next weekend.”
“Are you going over to the Cicone winery while you’re here?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Sookie is more familiar with the are than I am.”
“Dontcha know their daughter?”
I looked at him blankly. “I don’t think so. Should I?”
I heard Sookie snicker as her body pressed against my side. “Red Bob, just because he lives in Hollywood doesn’t mean he knows every celebrity out there. Madonna lives in England now anyway.”
What the hell were they talking about?
Bob chuckled. “I guess you’re right. She’s a musician anyway, I guess you don’t run in the same circle of friends eh, with you being an actor?”
“Yeah, I’ve met her, but we’re not really friends.” Did Madonna’s parents own a winery? I was so confused.
“Well, I’m sure her parents would love to meet you.”
Sookie gave him a sugary smile. “I’m not sure if we’ll have time, but if we do, you can bet I’ll make sure Eric introduces himself.”
Bob’s wife asked him a question, and he turned his back to us. Sookie stood on her toes, her hands on my elbows, pulling me down for a quick kiss.
She grinned. “That was sweet of you.”
“Not telling him he was crazy for thinking you’d know Madonna.”
“Do her parents own a winery here?”
Sookie grinned and nodded. “It’s on the other peninsula up by Suttons Bay.”
“Well, shit, if meeting her parents will get my name on her radar, let’s go. Madge has some connections.” I waggled my eyebrows and teased.
She slapped my arm with a laugh. “I can get you on her radar, Eric. She’s a big fan of Martini’s.”
Of course. I should have known. “You never cease to amaze me, Sookie Stackhouse.”
Her hands slid up my chest to my shoulders, and she smirked at me with a naughty twinkle in her eyes. She was going to kill me. I was horny, and buzzed, and we were about to get in a van with our entire tour group, and I wouldn’t be able to touch her.
“You’re evil.” I quipped as we wandered into the retail area to buy even more wine.
Links and stuff:
The view from Chateau Chantal