Luscious Sins (Bend to My Will #7) (8 page)

For a minute, Jacob didn’t move. The sun warmed them, and the car supported them. He kissed Vivienne’s neck and nuzzled her hair. Then he lifted her upright and kissed her lips. Like a respectable woman, she pulled up her panties, lest someone see.

But she gave him a coy look, and watched as Jacob pulled his briefs up, then his pants. Vivienne put her palm on his cheek, and lifted high enough on her toes to kiss him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked into his eyes.

In a sultry voice, with her emerald eyes glistening, Vivienne said, “I do like that car.”

Jacob laughed and scooped her into his arms. “And I’ve only just started with you, naughty girl. Let’s get inside…as you can see, I’m not a patient man.” And he carried her into the villa, with an entire night ahead to indulge his passion…and hers.

Chapter 8

Vivienne woke up the next morning with sunshine streaming through the window. She stretched and yawned, then threw back the covers. It was already warm, and would be another beautiful day. Jacob had made every day in Tuscany special.

If only it didn’t have to end, but their flight home was scheduled for the following day. It had been an amazing trip, and Vivienne hoped to visit Italy again. The villa was so homey, as was the Italian culture. The food, wine, and especially the people had won her over.

She slipped out of bed to get ready for the day. Since it was harvest season, Jacob had a wine tour planned. They would miss the harvest festivals later in the month, but could see some of the early grape harvest.

On one of their drives, Jacob had taken the scenic route from Florence to Siena, cutting through the heart of the Chianti Classico wine zone. The road had swept around the rolling Tuscan hills, past the bowed vines, heavy with ripening Sangiovese grapes to be used for making Chianti Classico.

The white grape varietals, such as Malvasia Bianca and Trebbiano, were harvested earlier than the Sangiovese. At other tastings, Vivienne had learned that Chianti was blended with white grapes, but that the Chianti Classico had to be a minimum of seventy percent Sangiovese.

The growing of grapes and the making of wine was all very intriguing, although Vivienne doubted she’d remember even half of what she’d learned by the time she got home. But it did give her a deeper appreciation for wines, and for Jacob’s business.

Dressed in white pants and a summer top, Vivienne went out to find Jacob enjoying the sun on the terrace. After a cup of Italian coffee, they went to Greve for breakfast, and one last walk through the town. Then they headed for an organic, biodynamic vineyard called Colombaia.

The manager gave them a personal tour through the vineyard, where the Trebbiano grapes were ripe and ready for picking. They would go into the blend of the vintner’s white Tuscan wine, called Bianco Toscano. The grape pickers had arrived early in the morning. Vivienne watched them at work, listening to the rustle of grape leaves and the rhythmic snipping sounds as bunches of grapes were cut and dropped into a crate.

After sampling a couple of the wines in the tasting room, they visited two other wineries. It was a bit breezy that day, but as pretty as a postcard. Vivienne soaked in the beauty of the vineyards, a little sad that she’d soon have to leave.

For their last day, Jacob hired a chef to prepare a meal at the villa. Not long after they returned, the chef arrived. They enjoyed a bottle of wine while the chef worked in the kitchen. It was still light out, so they strolled through the garden, sipping wine.

The greenery was lush, and the plants well tended. The lovely garden spoke of luxury, and of an earlier time when life wasn’t so rushed. There was much tradition connected to the villa, and although it had been restored, its character had been maintained.

Jacob held her hand, seeming thoughtful. Vivienne wished she was a mind reader, knowing that he didn’t share everything. And there was so much she wanted to know about him. “I kept you away from work for most of our visit.”

“It was worth it.” Jacob lifted her hand, still entwined with his, and kissed it. The tender gesture touched her.

The herbs growing in the garden had a fragrant aroma. Vivienne picked up the scent of rosemary. They walked past the vegetable garden toward the edge of the hill. Spread out below were farmhouses and olive groves, with vineyards woven over the landscape.

“I’m glad you came with me, that you got a chance to see the villa, and to visit Tuscany.” The look in Jacob’s eyes said much more.

Yet Vivienne had trouble reading him. There was emotion in his voice; there was no missing that. Would he allow love to blossom or would he deny its existence? After such a romantic week, surely Jacob couldn’t ignore what was between them.

The attraction was palpable, the closeness more evident. Vivienne had experienced intimacy with Jacob that she hadn’t predicted; he’d shown her what could be. She couldn’t fathom that he would block the depth of feeling that surely ran through his veins, and most certainly warmed his heart.

Turning, Jacob led her back to the garden to sit on a bench overlooking the vista. Vivienne was so much in love that she was a bit giddy. She couldn’t turn away from what was in her heart, and although she’d spoken the words before, once was not enough.

With her thigh pressed to Jacob’s, and her hand on his forearm, Vivienne looked into his blue eyes. In the late afternoon sun, he looked so handsome, and impossibly sexy. She flashed back to the interlude on his car the day before, and smiled.

Jacob looked at her. “What is that smile on your lips?”

“You probably know.”

Jacob leaned down and kissed her lips. The touch of his warm mouth, and the sensation that went through her, made her heart swell. The look in his eyes told her he wanted so much more. With her mouth barely a breath from his, Vivienne held his gaze.

“I love you, Jacob…I love you,
so much
.”

Instead of kissing her and telling her that he felt the same way, Jacob stood up and walked to the edge of the hill. Vivienne’s heart fell. She wasn’t sure what to say or what to do. This wasn’t right.

After a moment, Jacob turned back to face her. He gulped the last of his wine, and with the glass hanging uselessly at his side, he sighed. This time he didn’t tell Vivienne that she was misguided, that she’d misinterpreted her emotions.

Jacob looked lost…and sad. “I have no capacity to return such a vow.”

“Why can’t you?”

Jacob shook his head, then gazed off into the distance. “In the end…I will fail you.”

Vivienne stood up, leaving her empty wine glass on the bench, and went over to him. “Why, Jacob? I don’t understand.”

Jacob paced over the loose dirt, then kicked a small stone. “There’s more you don’t know about me.”

Vivienne was frozen to the spot, wanting only for him to talk to her. “Please. Tell me.”

Again a look of melancholy clouded Jacob’s handsome features. “I was responsible for my mother’s death. She relied on me…and I failed her.”

Vivienne reeled from the change of subject. He’d spoken so little of his childhood that she hadn’t risked asking about his mother, whether she was alive or dead. Yet she had wondered how a mother could let her son be taken away. What had brought Flora to the point in motherhood that she had allowed her son to be adopted?

“Your mother…is dead?”

Jacob went over and sat on the bench, as if he didn’t have the will to stand. “I loved my mother, and I wanted to protect her. She confided in me, and told me how my father beat her. I saw it happen, too.”

“Why did she tell you about that?”

“She wanted to protect me,” Jacob said. “My mother warned me, over and over. She told me as soon as I was old enough to understand, that it was dangerous to defy my father. ‘Carl has a temper.’ Those were her words.”

“So what happened?”

“My father drank a lot, and I witnessed the beatings my mother spoke of.” Jacob looked at Vivienne, horror in his eyes. “It broke my heart. I screamed at him, but he wouldn’t stop. He would never
stop
.”

Vivienne wrapped her arms around her waist, hanging on every word.

“When I misbehaved, it angered Carl, but still I rebelled. Then after he whipped me, he’d take it out on my mother.” Jacob’s eyes were moist.

“I was the cause, the instigator. From the time I could walk, I witnessed the abuse. I was always so helpless.” He expelled a breath. “My mother warned me: ‘Don’t annoy your father, Jacob. It will only come back on both of us.’”

“Why didn’t she leave him?”

Jacob shook his head. “She couldn’t. A man like Carl…he would find her. And he’d kill us both. My mother couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to me. She’d endure it all, as long as she thought that one day I’d grow up and leave…that I’d survive it. But if she ran, Carl would come after us. We wouldn’t be safe anywhere.”

“How old were you then?”

“I was seven years old…just before she died.” Jacob dug his hand in his hair. “She told me not to argue with him, but I wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t control my rebellious impulses or my temper.”

Jacob stared at the ground, as if seeing it all over again. “I angered my father. It wasn’t the first time, but that time was worse. I ignored my mother’s warning, foolishly, and to her detriment.”

Vivienne stepped closer and put her hand on his shoulder. “What happened to your mother?”

“Carl beat her…there was blood…she screamed. I cried. I yelled at him…pounded on him with my fists.” Jacob looked at Vivienne, his eyes unseeing.

“She was hurt, very bad. The ambulance came, and they took her away.” A tear rolled down Jacob’s cheek. “That’s the last time I saw her.” He swallowed. “I never saw my mother again.”

Vivienne squeezed his shoulder, at a loss for words.

“My mother was treated for severe injuries, broken bones, internal bleeding. Vico told me about it all later. In the hospital, she got pneumonia…and…she died.”

It was blindingly clear the loss of his mother contributed to why Jacob didn’t trust himself, why he thought he was a danger. The loss of a mother for a young boy would be bad enough, but the circumstances made it much worse.

“My father beat her…because of me.”

Vivienne put her palm on his cheek, and Jacob looked into her eyes. “That was
him
, not
you
.”

“My mother counted on me. She confided in me, trusted me. She pleaded for me not to annoy Carl, but I ignored her.” Jacob looked devastated. “I failed her.”

Vivienne’s heart wrenched. “It wasn’t your fault, Jacob.” But she could see the guilt he still bore. “You were only a child…”

Her words of consolation hung in the balance. Jacob didn’t respond; he just gazed up at the sky, as if begging forgiveness.

# # #

“Will the pain of Jacob’s past rip them apart?”

Read next: Sexy Addiction (Bend To My Will #8)

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Luscious Sins by Emily Jane Trent ©2015 All Rights Reserved

Published By Camden Lee Press

Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design - www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

Emily Jane Trent writes steamy romances about characters you’ll get to know and love. The sex scenes are hot, and the romance even hotter! If you are a fan of stories with a heroine that’s got spunk and a hunk of a hero that you’d like to take home with you, these stories are what you’re looking for.