It's Got A Ring To It

by Desconhecido(a)

  It was better than the pictures. Charming brick and wood lodging. Grounds spanning acres of luscious garden landscapes. A harmonious combination of relaxation, luxury, romance, and comfort at its best. The air back home was stifling compared to the crisp air at the inn. It had the luxuries of a hotel, but the atmosphere exuded the warmth of a dream home. Many times, I’d envisioned myself held up in a quaint bed and breakfast, savoring the robust flavor of an aged merlot or cabernet. It was not small by any means, but it’s just far enough off the path to make it feel secluded, like our own secret sanctuary.

  As Myles checked us in, I wandered about the property, exploring, taking it all in. Great lawns lining the river. Balconies overlooking vistas of never-ending vineyards. A lady, beneath plush linens, being massaged. What possible stress could she have here? Off in a charming nook, a couple partook in a romantic picnic. I couldn’t tell whether they had been together for a few days or a few decades. From their eyes and body language, neither time nor distance could stand between them. They were discovering and rediscovering each other without the din of life and its trials and tribulations blaring in the background.

  From behind, the sound of grass folding under feet neared. I didn’t look back. His virile frame brushed against my back. Myles enveloped me in his embrace. Instinctively my eyes closed. I was in the arms of the man I loved among the most idyllic backdrop I’d ever seen.

  “Are you happy?” Myles whispered. His lips were so close to my ear, the warmth sent a flash through me as they grazed my lobe. I wanted him to kiss me here. In this place that felt more like a figment of my imagination than reality.

  Yes, I thought to myself. But, such a small word wouldn’t suffice. Myles had given me a little piece of myself back and continued to build me up. It wasn’t that I was just feeling happy. I was happy. To the core. On some level, I’d come to terms with the constancy of self-doubt. Though, every day with Myles made it less so. I hadn’t yet figured out how to convey it. All I could say, “I’m with you.”

  “You’ve been with me since the day you stepped foot in my world.” The words were heavy. Whether they were real or not, I didn’t know. But, wholeheartedly, my mind needed to believe them. So badly, I wanted to tell him the secrets of my heart. Why it had been so hard for me to let go. What he meant to me. How I couldn’t imagine a life without him any longer. When he turned me around to face him, there was no escape. Should I? What would he say?

  As my lips parted, only a stilted gasp came out as his lips met mine. A kaleidoscope of fireworks went off between us as our mouths intertwined. Tasting the sweetness of his confectionary kiss. Inhaling the fresh scent of soap and lemons. I took him in. Every inch of him as his hands gently caressed either side of my face. This was where I belonged. With him. Suddenly, it was what its all cracked up to be. Reciprocity. Rainbows and butterflies. Daydreams about princess dresses, honeymoons, and diamond rings.

  When he finally released me, I refused to open my eyes for fear that I might awaken from his spell. The only thing that mattered was still there. Myles. Still with me, with a wicked smile behind those hungry eyes. “Laila, can I make love to you tonight?” We had been at this point before, though it never came with a question or “love” attached. Still, something about this place and this version of us felt right. Just the two of us. No apprehension or preconceived notions. Just a woman, a dangerously handsome man, and our hearts on our sleeves. Again, I wanted to give him the simple answer, but his word choice lingered.

  “Do you, Myles?”

  “Do I what?” he questioned. Not quite following me.

  “Myles…,” I hesitated, wondering whether I really wanted to know the answer. Whether I’d be okay with either answer. “Do you…love me?” Erratically, my heart beat and my skin throbbed as I held my breath for his response. If he said no, would I be all right? Had I built a strong enough wall around my heart? Would it be Ethan all over again?

  Interrupting my mind going haywire, he spoke without pause, “I do.” And I knew in that moment, I wouldn’t have been the same, given any other answer. Maybe not ever again. Myles wasn’t Ethan. I wouldn’t recover from that fall.

  The world around us fell silent, and I knew what he wanted to hear in return. Still, I said nothing. Back and forth, I juggled with responses as my throat closed and my watering eyes threatened to spill. I swallowed hard, trying to think of something less cliché than “I love you, too.” If only, he would have kissed me so deeply, I didn’t have to think.

  “Mr. Donovan, your bags have been taken to your room, and the limo for the wine tour will be here at noon.” He glared in my direction before turning his attention to the guest attendant. That look drained me. It wasn’t anger or rage, but disappointment that had colored his face. When the attendant left, he didn’t return his attention to me.

  “Myles?” I reached for his forearm, but he set off on a brisk stride toward the inn. Sheepish, I trailed behind him with my eyes fixed on the ground. Once inside, he finalized our check-in and we weaved through the tree-skirted corridors and wound our way on the cobblestone path toward our room. I opened my mouth to finish where we left off, but a quarreling couple followed on our heels. The petite woman nipped and nagged at the man on the other side of her insults and accusations, while he dragged his ego behind, red with embarrassment. Loudly, she filled us in on his indiscretion. She’d caught him ogling a leggy brunette in a green dress, on this trip that was meant to reignite the spark in their relationship. It felt like we had intruded on their private matters. As awkward as the situation was, my eyes darted pass the fidgeting man with the pleading eyes, toward Myles. As the couple approached, he hung off to the side to let them pass, giving the man a sympathetic shrug along the way. No sooner had they made it by, Myles continued toward our room where the bellman stood awaiting our arrival. Quickly, I glanced down at the hands on my watch. Eleven thirty. There was still time.

  Momentarily, I was sidetracked. From the outside of the inn with the picturesque vistas and verdant landscape, I knew it would be gorgeous, but I halfway expected to see the homey shabby chic floral explosion of the everyday B&B. But this was so much more. Walls the color of sand, flickering candles, flowing white sheers billowing in the wind from the terrace, and a formidable king-sized bed with a down comforter among a cloud of pillows, doused with rose petals at the center. A romantic gesture, I knew Myles made with warm-hearted intentions. Behind the headboard, a stand-alone wall flanked with entrances on either side, separated the bathroom, where an inviting garden tub centered the room. I wandered through the room, momentarily exploring with rose-colored glasses.

  “Myles.” His name fell from my tongue languidly and immediately my heart hollowed. He’d planned this beautiful getaway and I couldn’t even conjure up the words to reciprocate his love and generosity.

  “We better hurry,” he demurred roughly, missing my outstretched hand as he staid his course for the bathroom.

  Listlessly, I searched through my tote for a change of clothes. He needed some space to cool down and I was still trying to wrap my mind around the wedge that divided us. The guest attendant had mentioned a wine tour. Hopefully, it wasn’t a black-tie affair. Who even knew what he and Lena had picked out for me. I lifted the tote onto the bed. There were a few pairs of shorts, T-shirts, and two dresses with sandals, pink Keds, and a small toiletry bag. It wasn’t much, but I could make due. Wine-tasting could be casual or semiformal, but it was a date night, so I opted for the less revealing black halter dress with the A-line hem that fell just above my knees. I laid it out on the bed and awkwardly rounded the corner of the partition between the bedroom and bathroom. Our eyes met in the mirror and for what seemed like eternity, I felt the pangs of loss. I still hadn’t answered him. He needed to know that I loved him. Myles broke the link and exited from the other side of the partition. Tonight, I would tell him. There would be wine and all the romance of a starlit sky blanketing the countryside backdrop.

  Armed with only my plan to
endure the stifling silence of words unspoken, I quickly showered and stepped into my little black dress. It wasn’t what I would have chosen, but it suited the seductive mood I was feeling. Outside, a watercolor orange painted the sky and a warm breeze blew softly on my still dampened bare back, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Beneath the toiletry bag were my special occasion pink suede heels, the ones that I normally hid in the back of the closet waiting for a worthy occasion to wear. One by one, I put them on and twisted in the mirror to see them from every angle. They were the finishing touch on the outfit, flirty and fun. Quickly, I let my hair down and freshened up my makeup, adding a touch of rosy pink lipstick and a few swipes of mascara. One more look in the mirror, nothing else to add.

  “How do I look?” I asked hesitantly. “I hope this is okay.”

  “You look…stunning. He rose at my entrance, his wide-eyed appraising look spoke volumes. It was all I needed to know. Only, the pained expression that followed hurt me to know that I caused it.

  “Myles—” I began again. And again, he tried to walk away. But, this time, his refusal to let me respond, enraged me. The next thing I knew, I was yelling at him. “The tour will wait. You need to let me have my say, too.”

  “Laila, don’t say anything that you don’t mean.” His reprimanding tone stilled the room.

  “Myles, will you just listen?” He stood there hovering over me, perturbed and fuming. “Will you just give me a chance? Hear my side?”

  Without moving an inch, he focused his eyes on me and immediately the weight of his stare made it that much harder. “When you told me you loved me, it mirrored everything in my heart, but it rendered me speechless. Not because I don’t feel the same. Because I do feel the same.” He remained frozen in his demeanor, hardened to my words.

  “I didn’t want to believe it. I thought we could move past this and be much stronger for it, but now I know.” Back and forth, Myles paced the room with his eyebrows furrowed in knots, debating an argument with himself.

  “You know what, Myles? You didn’t want to believe what?”

  “Ethan.”

  “What about, Ethan? Myles, you’re not making sense. This has nothing to do with Ethan.” I retorted.

  “This has everything to do with Ethan,” he remarked poignantly. “Everything to do with you holding back. With what you didn’t say.”

  There wasn’t a choice at that point. Measure for measure, he coaxed me into the deep end. “You don’t know anything!” My voice reverberated throughout the room, and cut off sharply with a tear. I began a second time, steadying myself. “What I didn’t say? Huh? I didn’t want to bother you with all the things I didn’t say. I didn’t want to bring all that toxic baggage into whatever it was that we were beginning. It’s more than what you think, Myles. I told you that Ethan left me at the altar, but what you didn’t know is that he stole from me. He hurt me. So, yes. Yes, I’ve held back a little, but for good reason. For the best reason. To be for damn certain before speaking those words again.” All at once, the questions in his eyes, washed into the flood of sympathy and warmth that came over him. His shoulders released and his expression softened. It was my undoing. “I know you have questions, Myles, but I don’t regret the pain that I’ve been through. It’s gotten me to this place. I’ve been falling for you since we met, and it scared me.” Gently, he brushed his lips against mine. “The way I say them to you means as much to me as the words themselves.”

  “Laila…,” he uttered softly as he closed the distance between us.

  Determined, I squared my mind and body on him and held his face between my hands to ensure that his attention did not waver. “I’m in love with you, Myles Donovan. The kind that I wish for everyone else to experience. A love that will not go away with time or space. The kind that I’ll never grow to regret.”

  twenty-two

  As the limo pulled into the second vineyard, Myles slid his hand in mine and kissed me softly behind the ear. I wanted more, but it would have to be enough for the moment. On several occasions, I had to force myself to pay attention. Since we left the room, my mind seemed to focus only on Myles. The slight opening in his lips as he told me he loved me. The strength in his hands, as he pulled me into a mind-melting kiss. The increasingly urgent pulse of the hollow ache between my thighs. I wanted to take him right then. If it weren’t for the tour, I would have.

  Eagerly, I read every microscopic-lettered label. Smelled every aromatic wine. Forced myself to listen to the tour guide, no matter how bad the comedic timing of his scripted banter. And finally, my mind got the hint and allowed me to concentrate on anything but Myles. This place was exactly what I had envisioned a vineyard to look like. A room lined wall-to-wall and concrete floor to wooden ceiling with barrels of wine. A dash of industrial amid a countryside setting. The aroma was sweet with a robust flavor lingering in the air, smoothed with a hint of chipped wood. Dim lights only added to the atmosphere, giving it ambient warmth.

  At the center of our group, the vineyard owner, Pierre, a tall reserved man, wore faded jeans and a button-down flannel shirt with rolled sleeves. He didn’t say much, but when he did, everyone listened intently. He included historical significance and minute details that somehow added to the experience, making us feel like we were a part of something great. A deeply rooted passion for wine and the process of winemaking was apparent as he described the unique flavor of each wine. Cabernet Sauvignon, he confessed, was his favorite. Briefly, he noted that it was a black wine grape native to Bordeaux, France, which he now grew locally. Pierre continued to talk, teaching simultaneously. Watching him swirl the glass “to aerate and pull out the real essence” was strangely entertaining. I found myself on edge, waiting for something magical to happen, like a jack-in-the-box, winding until a clown popped out. Pierre sipped, and a sigh of complete bliss seeped from his mouth as if he’d just consumed heaven in a glass.

  The group repeated the same steps as instructed, but there was no heaven. Just speedy gulps, taking it down. All the hype and brouhaha, followed by an even bigger letdown. I swirled, slowly and with as much grace as Pierre. The aroma filled my nose as I inhaled the effervescent miasma, intoxicating my senses. Suddenly, I relaxed with my mouth watering for the flavor. With the first swallow, I was wholly consumed. My eyes closed and my taste buds delighted in the tantalizing allure of this gift. This was no boxed foul-up or cheap corner store impostor. Fresh. There was no way I could go back. As a favor to myself, I promised myself only the good stuff going forward.

  When I finally reopened my eyes, Myles was staring at me intently, but I couldn't turn away. He locked me in and I was helpless to his unsavory intentions. “What?” I whispered.

  The sides of his mouth curled up, in that way that only his mischievous grin did. He said nothing aloud, but he held my hand slightly tighter and walked slowly. As the group moved past us, we began to lag behind. Next thing I knew, we were running off between barrels, like hamsters in a maze.

  “What was that all about?”

  “I had to get you alone,” Myles spoke, breathlessly. “I just can’t take it anymore.”

  Without warning, I was up against the wall with Myles’ chest pressed against me as he nibbled on my neck. A cool night breeze rushed through the door, chilling me to the core. My nipples hardened at his touch, blazing against my pulsing skin. Swiftly, he lifted me up in his capable hands, straddling my legs around his waist. We swayed rhythmically, panting with desperation and eager anticipation. Frantically, I looked around to see if anyone was around, but there was no one. This wasn’t just heavy petting going on. My conscience shut down. It wasn’t a circumstance that made time for impulsive second-guessing.

  As Myles slid the halter around my neck to the side, my breasts throbbed impatiently. The need was palpable. All I could do was thank Lena for packing the dress and my lucky stars that I shaved earlier. Through my panties, his length pressed against me, the anticipation volcanic. Restlessly, my hands combed through his hair, wildly rubbing h
is broad shoulders. Our breathing was heavy and labored as we panted with anticipation. I already knew he was good, but this was like getting a sex do-over. What a first time should be like.

  Beneath my dress, Myles shifted my panties to the side, and when his warm flesh touched mine, an explosion erupted that felt so good, my head jerked back, so my chin lifted baring my neck to him. A feverish moan seeped from my mouth as Myles trailed his tongue from the tip. As he followed the path, abruptly, a couple from our tour group startled us.

  “Newlyweds!” they teased. From afar, I heard the woman say, “Don’t even think about it.”

  Myles and I couldn’t hold back and burst with stifled laughter.

  Back on my feet, I shifted my dress trying to put myself together again. He patted my wild-woman-in-heat hair down and thumbed away smeared lipstick. I still felt giddy and exuberant, adrenaline running on high. “Can you believe they think we’re newlyweds? Is that how they behave?” I questioned, laughing it off.

  “Yes,” he murmured. Though, it was unclear which question he was actually answering. Still, my heart did a little summersault, just thinking about it.

  We rejoined the group a few minutes later, but I couldn't stop smiling and giggling. Mockingly, Myles kept shushing me, feigning embarrassment. It got so bad, I’d fake a cough in between uncontrollable snickers. He was just as bad. He only made it worse with each knowingly impish glance he gave me. People kept looking back, but had anyone said anything, I would’ve blamed it on the alcohol at the drop of a dime. What’s worst, the couple that caught us kept shooting us the stink eye, then winking like we had some secret inside joke.