“All right then,” she said, finishing off the last bit of croissant and tossing the bag in the bin by the door. “I’ll start prepping the third-floor bedroom for paint and you’ll be down in the first-floor bathroom, right? Fixing that leaky sink?”
I nodded. “Shouldn’t take me long.”
She smiled, tipped her head, and took the stairs up to the top floor. The sound of music spilled out after a few moments. I gathered up the tools I’d need for the job and carried them into the bathroom. It was a tight space, so I had to lay my things out in the hallway so I could lay down flat and get up inside the cupboard. I turned the faucet on and off, laid out my tools, and propped my hands on my hips, staring down at the project before me.
I flipped the light switch off and then on again, narrowed my eyes at the sink, and then turned on my heel, heading for the stairs.
I couldn’t focus.
Not after last night.
I gripped the railing and took the stairs two at a time.
Georgie was already on the second-floor landing, shouting down for me.
“Gianluca! On second thought, the paint could probably wait—”
She didn’t get the full sentence out before my lips were on hers. I hauled her body against mine and then turned, pushing her up against the wall of the stairwell. Her hands were in my hair, her hips were in line with mine, her tongue swept into my mouth, and she let out a tiny moan as I forced her legs up around my waist.
“I’m going mental,” she said as I strung kisses down the side of her neck, unfastening the first two buttons of her dress.
She had on a lacy bra, so soft beneath the palm of my hand that it was likely driving both of us a little insane.
“Take it off. Please.”
I yanked her dress down to her waist and then she tore at my t-shirt.
“This too.”
I grinned and reached back to yank it off.
She dragged her palms down the center of my chest, admiring the marks she’d made.
“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
I dropped my head to the crook of her neck and sighed. She smelled like jasmine and it was especially strong right there. I had one hand gripping her thigh, keeping her pinned against the wall, and my other hand found the strap of her bra. I slipped my finger beneath it, dragging the back of my knuckle from the top of her shoulder down past her collarbone. Her sharp intake of breath spurred me on, and I let the strap fall down her arm, revealing another few inches of her supple curves.
She tried to press her chest against mine, to hide herself, but I pushed her shoulder back against the wall, locking my eyes with hers. Every emotion was right there for me to see. She was feeling vulnerable up against that wall, but I wouldn’t let her shy away from this.
“Let me touch you,” I said, skimming my finger pad across the top of her bra. Her chest quivered when I hit the center of her ribcage and I went back and forth two more times before gently pushing the material down, baring her nipple for me.
I’d seen her the night before. I’d lain there for hours staring at her, but the light was different here and she looked completely new again, so beautiful and smooth. I dropped my mouth and tasted her there, in love with her skin.
She gripped my hair, keeping my mouth on her. Her legs tightened around my waist and she moaned when I closed my teeth, gently biting her.
“Gianluca!”
I smirked and smoothed my palm over her breast, soothing the ache. Her bra fell away after I released the strap on her other shoulder, and then I moved us, carrying her back down to the first-floor landing and kicking the door open to the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressed her chest to mine, and kissed me senseless as I walked us back to the bed. We tumbled down onto the sheets and she laughed, adjusting so she wouldn’t fall off the side.
I stood back, staring at her as she lay there topless with her brown wavy hair fanned out around her. Her body was every man’s dream, like a petite hourglass. Her breasts filled my hands and her waist curved in, small and slender. Her hips were enough to drive me wild, but I wanted to see all of her. I tore at the rest of the buttons on her dress and then she kicked it to the ground. She wore lacy blue underwear and the color complimented her tan.
“You look like you’ve been living on the beach,” I said, dragging my hand up the inside of her leg. Her skin was the same everywhere: silky soft and demanding to be touched, caressed, felt.
She squirmed beneath me and I held her legs apart gently, pressing a kiss to her knee and then climbing higher, pushing my weight onto her. I knew my jeans scratched against her bare skin. We weren’t on an even playing field, me still half-clothed, but I liked the advantage.
I kissed the inside of her knee and then her thigh, skimming my lips higher until her back arched off the bed. I kissed her hip, just over the lace, and then I pressed my mouth to the side of her bellybutton, not wanting to rush. We had this forgotten room with its boarded shutters and the creaky bed all day; we had forever.
But Georgie was squirming and moaning and I knew she needed release as badly as I did. I wanted to feel her come beneath me and I’d grant her that more than once before the morning was through. I skimmed my fingers along the top of her lacy underwear, dipping gently inside and then lower. With the lace there, it felt like we were trying to get away with a secret, me touching the very center of her. I pushed up onto my elbow to get a good look at her; once I saw her eyes pinched closed and her head thrown back, I brushed the heel of my palm across her and she brought her full bottom lip between her teeth, biting down to keep from crying out.
I smirked and repeated the movement, gently…gently brushing the tip of my middle finger inside her.
Her hand shot up to my bicep, wrapping around and digging into my skin. She wanted me to feel what she was feeling, to return pieces of the sensations I was giving her. I wouldn’t let her. I bent down and took her earlobe between my teeth, biting down gently as I slid the rest of my finger inside her. She was tight there and though she was the one moaning and brushing herself up against my palm, I was starting to unravel. I knew how good she felt and now, there was no going back. I’d be inside of her if it killed me.
“Gianluca,” she begged, bringing me back to Earth.
I’d stilled there for too long, trying to catch hold of the moment, but she was impatient. I looked down and half growled, half moaned at the sight of my hand disappearing beneath her lace. Her legs had spread wide across the cream-colored sheets, no longer from my goading. No, she’d spread her legs herself, giving me all the signal I needed to keep going.
I rubbed circles there, faster and faster until she was breathing heavily and shaking beneath me. I could feel the waves starting to crash within her. They came gently and I circled with a steady rhythm, not so fast that she felt rushed, but enough to keep the sensations growing steadily, until the moment she finally came apart beneath me and I watched her shake and quiver, eyes pinched closed, hands clutching the sheets, head thrown back, and a delicious red flush covering her from chin to navel.
I gave her no time to recover. The last wave was still receding and I covered her with my body, dropping my mouth to hers and gliding my tongue past her lips. We were starved for each other, going at it like the world was ending in minutes, not millennia.
Georgie’s porcelain hands found my jeans, and hesitated there for only a moment before dipping inside and wrapping her hand around me. I tugged on her forearm to pull her back. I wasn’t finished with her; I needed days of tasting and touching her before I’d let her make me come.
“Let me.”
I stilled.
“Let me, please.”
She pressed the words against my neck until there was no hope of resisting.
Her hand brushed up and down, tentative at first, and then she was the one directing the show, pushing my shoulders back so I fell against the bed with her climbing up on top of me. It was a terrible torture, Georgie straddli
ng my hips, topless and playing the seductress.
“You know, men back in London spend hours in the gym every day trying to make their bodies look like yours.”
Her small hands were everywhere: on my chest, my shoulders, down my abs, then, unzipping my jeans.
“You just work outside, soaking up the sun here in paradise. And did you know you smell like the sea? This fresh scent that nearly kills me every time I’m near you.” She kept talking, but I couldn’t process her words. With Georgie’s hands on me, she might as well have been speaking Japanese.
“Gianluca—”
I stretched my hands up and cupped her breasts, cradling them in my palms and brushing my thumbs across her beaded nipples.
“Gianluca.”
I hummed, finally moving my gaze up to her mouth. She was speaking, but I was staring at her lips. They were so lovely, full and swollen from our morning together.
“You’re not listening!”
She brushed my hands away from her chest and I grinned. “I wasn’t,” I admitted. “Now I am.”
“Have you got any condoms here? Maybe up in the top room?”
I nearly choked. “God no. My nonna lived here, Georgie. I doubt there’s anything in these bedside drawers except dusty bibles.”
She laughed, then looked at me hungrily with a mischievous grin.
“We’ll just have to find other ways to occupy ourselves, then,” she said, finally working my jeans off. “Maybe you could find one of those bibles and brush me up on the Old Testament?”
“I don’t think that will work,” I said, playing along with her game.
“And why is that?” she asked, wrapping her hands around me and bending down low with her mouth.
“Because,” I rasped. “I have a feeling we’re about to break a few commandments…”
She laughed, and then realizing the limitations of our lack of protection, her smile faded.
“There’s no rush,” I promised her. “Next time we’ll come prepared, yes?”
I was already moving my hands back to her hips, gripping her there and rocking her gently back and forth on my lap. The feel of her lace was burning me from the inside out. What need was there for condoms? I meant what I’d said; there was no rush. I wanted to stretch out our time together, to revel in the possibilities. After all, it’d been five years since I’d felt a woman I loved on top of me.
GIANLUCA AND I were still in bed when Katerina showed up early for our lunch. I’d forgotten all about it (my mind was a bit occupied, thank you). After I’d ignored her calls the night before, I’d placated her with promises of a long lunch, but she’d shown up early, shouting my name into the quiet building.
“Oh shit,” I hissed, leaping up off the bed and turning in circles for my clothes.
Gianluca propped himself up on his elbows on the bed, watching me flit around the room with an easy, sated smile.
The bastard.
“Get up! Get up!”
“Why?”
He hadn’t heard her shouting, but when I explained that I was due to go to lunch with Katerina, he nearly choked.
“Georgie! Are you here?” Katerina shouted again right before I heard her feet hit the stairs.
Good. We had a few moments to gather ourselves before she realized we were together, alone, naked in the first-floor bedroom.
“Put some clothes on you, will you?!”
He was bloody distracting lying there in the buff. I’d have stood there, ogling his Adonic body all day if only Katerina hadn’t interrupted. Would it have killed her to come round an hour late? Bit rude to show up on time if you ask me.
I hopped into my dress while also trying to hook on the back of my bra. Gianluca helped me, dropping a kiss to my spine, just between my shoulder blades, before turning to find his own clothes. He really would do me in with kisses like that. A girl can only handle so much romance in one day.
“Shit,” he hissed. “My shirt is out on the stairs.”
I’d forgotten we’d half undressed out there. I hissed at Gianluca to stay put until we were off. He frowned for a minute, I think a bit confused, but there was no time to explain. I winked, pulled open the bedroom door, and shouted up at Katerina.
“Kat! Where are you?!”
She stomped back down the stairs. “Where’ve you been?”
“Down here. Cleaning and all that.”
She arched a brow. “Where’s Gianluca? And why are there clothes on the stairs?”
“Oh, those clothes are old, his nonna’s or something.” I propped my hands on my hips, putting on a brilliant act. “And he’s not here because he went off for building supplies. Well anyway, let’s head off to lunch. I’ve worked up a big appetite this morning.”
“Oh, has your work been especially hard this morning?”
I choked at her question. “Probably harder than it’s been in a long time.”
…
The decision to keep my love life private came naturally. Gianluca and I had no clue what was happening between us, so getting everyone else involved would only make things messier. The sheer volume of advice and warnings and skeptical glares would suck the fun right out of it. It was better this way, perhaps even a little more romantic that our affair was kept secret.
The next few days were an absolute dream. I woke up early and hiked or swam in the sea at Monterosso. Summer would start to fade soon, and I wanted to soak up the sun while I still could. After, I took my time showering and slipping into a loose sundress. I brushed out my long hair, not bothering with a hair dryer. The sea air ensured it dried with a lovely wave to it. I spritzed on a bit of perfume just at the base of my neck. Gianluca loved the smell of jasmine and I loved the feel of his stubble against my skin there. Once I’d finished, I popped round to The Blue Marlin, picked up our tea and pastries, chatted with the locals, and then met Gianluca at the bed and breakfast. Sometimes he was there before me—those were my favorite days. I loved turning the corner into the main square to see him sitting on the front step. Those few seconds when he didn’t know I was there, when I could just look at him. It was hard to take him in all at once—he was too beautiful, inside and out. He’d sit with his elbows on his knees, seemingly lost in thought. He’d run his hand through his thick hair and stare off in the distance, but as I walked closer, he’d catch me there in the square and flash me a massive smile with his deep dimples. I swooned every time.
Some mornings we’d pretend to get to work, eating quickly and then departing to separate corners of the building. Now that we’d finally finished clearing the place out, restoration was coming along slowly but surely. Gianluca was doing a brilliant job of fixing all the electrical and plumbing issues, and I was working on painting and cleaning, sprucing up every inch of the place and getting everything in order for guests.
Those moments when we pretended to work never lasted long. I’d barely manage to lay blue tape around the trim of one of the walls upstairs and Gianluca would come up behind me, wrap his arms around my middle, and carry me down to the first-floor bedroom like I weighed nothing. I would put up a protest and moan about needing to work, but we both knew it was only an act. That small bedroom was quickly becoming heaven on Earth.
We’d spend hours exploring each other’s bodies and slowly building on the day before, though we steered clear of the final act. It was Gianluca’s doing. If I’d had it my way we would have christened every room in that bed and breakfast—and I wasn’t sure why he insisted on waiting. He avoided the question whenever I asked. The first time we were alone together, we’d been without condoms, but the longer we waited, the more I suspected there was something else at play, almost like Gianluca was holding off on purpose. I hated it. This in between, where I could feel him against me but not inside me was prolonged torture. He was always the one to pump the brakes. I’d protest with an exasperated laugh, but he never listened. I knew he was as starved for that final act as I was. I mean, I felt him, touched him, teased him. The man had the constitut
ion of a monk as far as I was concerned. And I know it sounds greedy. I mean, we were still there, in that bed and breakfast, memorizing every inch of each other’s bodies, but it wasn’t enough; I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted to make love with Gianluca.
In the afternoons—after spending the morning in bed fooling around, but not quite doing the actual deed (groan)—we’d finally manage to get a bit of work done. Gianluca would take the train into La Spezia for supplies, or I’d pop around shops in Cinque Terre to get necessities for the guest rooms: new pillows, sheets, towels—we needed everything. I splurged on a few nice paintings to hang in the rooms and Gianluca balked until he saw them hung with the new light blue paint color.
“Gorgeous, right?”
He looked to me and smiled.
“I’m talking about the paintings, Gianluca.”
“They’re nice too,” he replied with a cheeky grin.
After wrapping up our days together, I tried my best to keep my evenings open for Katerina. If I suddenly dropped off the face of the earth, she’d suspect something, so most nights we met up for dinner or drinks. One night, she insisted that Gianluca and Massimo join us. The four us were outside at Belforte, working our way through our second glasses of red wine as we waited for our dessert to arrive. Gianluca sat across from me beside Massimo and though we weren’t talking, our legs were twined between the table. We were as close to one another as we could get in such a public setting.
“How are the repairs coming along at the bed and breakfast?” Katerina asked. “I took a peek inside the other day and it looks so close to being finished!”
“It’s getting there,” I said. “We settled on a name finally: Il Mare. Simple. Gianluca says the place should be ready for guests in two weeks. I set up a little website over the weekend so we can start taking reservations.”