Her eyes snapped to his, searching, daring him. He smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was enjoying her frustration. His thumb stroked lazy circles on her hip, careful, controlled. The music ended, people clapped, but Mara barely noticed.
“Outside?” he asked, voice low, eyes locked on hers.
She nodded before her brain caught up with her mouth.
They slipped away, through rows of vines still heavy with grapes, until the sound of music faded into crickets and the crunch of dirt under their shoes. Moonlight painted silver across his jawline as he turned, pressing her back gently against a wooden post.
This time, he didn’t hesitate. His hand slid lower, gripping her thigh, pulling it against him. The slit in her dress opened wider, the night air brushing skin that hadn’t felt this exposed in years. Mara gasped, her head tipping back against the post, her hair spilling loose.
His lips hovered over hers, slow, deliberate, making her tremble with the suspense of waiting. And when he finally kissed her, it was deep, unhurried, like he had all night to undo her. She clutched at him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left.
Her flinch turned into a shiver, not from fear, but from release—the tension breaking apart as his hand gripped tighter, sliding higher, daring past the point where hesitation lived. She moaned softly into his mouth, the sound shocking her as much as him.
“I thought you’d never,” she whispered against his lips, voice cracking with relief.
He chuckled, kissing her jaw, her neck, each word murmured between breaths. “Worth making you wait.”
And she hated that he was right. The delay had twisted the knife of her desire, turned her need into something raw, electric. Every nerve lit up as his body pressed against hers, as his hand explored further, slower, as though savoring the parts of her she had almost forgotten deserved savoring.
They didn’t go back inside. Not for hours. When they finally returned, clothes wrinkled, lips swollen, Mara caught sight of herself in the reflection of the reception hall’s glass door. For once, she didn’t see the tired, cautious woman she’d been for years. She saw a woman wanted, desired, alive again.
And all because he dared to hold back—until she begged for him not to.
