A Place in the Sun

by R.S. Grey

  Until I felt his hard chest rising and falling against mine.

  Until I stopped trying to fight for the towel and tried to step back, but he was there, wrapping his hand around my waist and keeping me pressed against him. I could smell the sea and sand on him. His skin was warm, another shade darker from our day outside.

  I focused on his sharp jaw as I spoke. “You win.”

  God, I could feel the tension in the air. It nearly sizzled from the way he held me like that, right up against him.

  “Georgie,” he breathed, right up against my ear.

  A delicious shiver shot down my spine, and it was like he’d put a spell on me. One word and I was under his control.

  “Yes?”

  “I really want some gelato.”

  I laughed and tried to shove away from him, but he held me still and bent low, pressing his face into the crook of my neck. “I haven’t had any in a very long time.”

  He was so tall and muscled that I felt puny by comparison. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to slow my heart. It was pounding so hard I knew he could feel it. How bloody embarrassing that I was on the brink of death from just being near him.

  “Get some tomorrow, then,” I offered, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I want it now.”

  The real pain of the moment was that I couldn’t tell if Gianluca was still playing around, teasing me as a friend would tease another friend, or if maybe, possibly…he wanted more. He was holding me so tight, I couldn’t get a full breath.

  “Gianluca?”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t breathe.”

  “Me neither,” he whispered.

  I smiled and tilted my head back, trying to get a good look at him, but it brought my face right up to his. I realized my mistake a second too late. Our lips were only a few inches apart. Gianluca reached up and cradled my head so I couldn’t turn away. His fingers wound up into my hair and he tugged my head back even more so he had perfect access to bend down and…holy.

  I stopped breathing. His mouth hovered over mine and he brushed his lips back and forth, testing the waters. My stomach flipped and I made a little sound, a desperate plea. Then, finally…he sealed his mouth to mine.

  Our lips melted together as he kissed me. Hard. Aggressive. Impatient. If kisses could kill, ours would have. It drew the life right out me. We were biting and teasing and sucking. Tilting our heads to get better access and still, I wanted more.

  He was so sure of himself, holding me against him as he tilted my head back and demanded more, teasing his tongue with mine. We were done being patient. My fingers curled into his shirt and it wasn’t enough. He hauled me up against his chest, yanking my hair back to expose my neck. Warmth spread between my legs as he blazed a trail of kisses from my chin to the top of my bikini and it still wasn’t enough. We were frenzied. I tore at his shirt until finally he yanked it off. I brushed my palms down his toned chest and pressed up on my tiptoes to reach his mouth again.

  We were ablaze, kissing and touching each other until his fingers found the knot behind my neck. My bikini top was hardly keeping us apart, but then it was gone, slipping down to the floor between us. I was naked from the waist up and Gianluca stared unabashedly down at me, his chocolate brown eyes searing across my skin like he’d never seen someone as beautiful as me, like he couldn’t get enough.

  He slid his big, masculine hand from my waist, up over my slender stomach to the underside of my right breast. He caressed my skin, testing his resolve. I squeezed my eyes closed and let my head fall back. Every nerve ending in my body was firing all at once, and then he slid his hand higher and brushed the center of his warm palm over my nipple. I swayed as a million tiny charges detonated all at once, and before I could recover, his mouth dropped to replace his hand. He kissed my breasts, cradling each in his hands. He stroked my nipples with his tongue and covered the aching flesh again and again until I was shaking in his arms, stringing my fingers through his thick hair to keep him there.

  It felt like we were starved for each other, like I’d gone years abstaining from men like Gianluca, and now that he was there, holding me, touching me, kissing me passionately, my body didn’t know how to respond. I wanted more. My leg wrapped up around him, his fingers dug into my small waist. I wanted him to guide us onto my unmade bed and show me what it would be like to feel the weight of him on top of me, to have him touch between my legs. The experience would surely kill whatever was left of me, yet I made no effort to stop him as he guided me backward.

  The bed hit the backs of my thighs and he tipped us, keeping hold of me until my head hit the soft blankets. I was perched right at the end, about to scoot up when he wrapped his hands around my thighs and kept me there, right on the edge of the bed for him. I offered up a hoarse protest, trying to shift higher so he could join me on the bed, but he gave me a devious smirk and bent between my parted thighs.

  His deft fingers wrapped around my bikini bottom and pulled it down my thighs, over my knees, and then, as if unwilling to finish the job, he left the material wrapped around one of my ankles, dropping to press his mouth to my hip. He soothed me with his hands, stilling me when I tried to twist out from beneath his hold, to conceal myself.

  “Tesoro,” he murmured. “Open your legs for me.”

  When he lowered his mouth and I realized he was all but eye level with the most intimate part of me, I flushed with embarrassment.

  “Gianluca…”

  He shushed me as his mouth wandered lazily over my skin. His hands worked to part my thighs and then he slid one fingertip down the center of me. My back arched up off the bed and I dropped my hands, trying to anchor myself to reality. He groaned as my fingers dragged through his hair, tugging gently as his fingertip softly stroked up and down.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, just before his lips pressed against my vulnerable flesh. At the same time, his finger stroked inside, deeper this time. The rhythm was maddening. I couldn’t keep up. His finger stroked me so deftly I was quivering beneath his touch. His tongue lapped me up, and then he slid another finger inside, spreading me tenderly.

  There was no reprieve from his tongue, the soft thrusts of his long fingers. He increased the pace and I twisted on the bed, clutching anything my hands could find: the crumpled sheets, the back of his neck, his broad shoulders.

  He continued on and on, relentlessly stroking his tongue across my sensitive flesh, coaxing and demanding until I started to shake with pleasure, crying out and arching against his mouth. My fingers dug into his shoulders as I cried and gasped. His tongue and fingers continued on until the last residual wave of pleasure had gone. Even then, he fluttered kisses across my skin, soothed my thighs with his palms, and bathed me in gentle caresses.

  There was no concept of time when we were in the dark hotel room. Gianluca slid up onto the bed beside me and twined his fingers through mine, bringing them up over our heads as he kissed me. I wasn’t sure how far he would take it, but he drew the line, kissing me senseless without taking it a step further. I tried to reciprocate, to show him the same pleasure he’d shown me.

  “There’s time,” he insisted, kissing my right cheek and then my left, nuzzling his nose against the crook of my neck.

  I would have given him everything that night, but he didn’t demand it. He kissed me until my lips were sore and my eyes fluttered closed. I was so thrilled to have him there beside me in bed, and yet I was sated enough that when exhaustion hit, I didn’t try to fight it. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and scooted close.

  “You should sleep.”

  I shook my head, though sleep was close on the horizon regardless. I didn’t want the day to end. I fought hard against it, jerking awake every time I started to drift off. Gianluca kept talking to me, ensuring me that I could fall asleep, that he would stay. He whispered stories about Vernazza’s history as a fishing village, how the castle on top of the hill was previously used as a lookout for pirate invasions. He kept switching
in and out of Italian and by the time I finally drifted off, his accented words wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

  When I woke up the next morning, my bed was empty, but the scent of Gianluca clung heavy in my bed.

  I STAYED WITH Georgie until she drifted off and then I lingered there in her bed, watching the rise and fall of her chest. She looked serene laying there, swollen red lips and pink cheeks and chestnut brown hair splayed out in every direction. She was tan from the top of her head down to where the sheet wrapped around her waist, and I wondered if she’d sunned without her top on. Women did it in Vernazza all the time, and I wouldn’t put it past Georgie to join them. That kind of exhibitionism took a certain level of confidence, and Georgie wasn’t lacking in that department.

  I should have left as soon as she fell asleep, but for some reason, I felt compelled to stay. For a few inexplicable hours, I felt more comfortable down there in the village with her than I would have back in my refuge up the mountain. She could have woken up at any time and seen me there, watching over her like I was mad—and maybe I was, a little. My eyes followed the line of her frame slowly, from her chin down across her neck and smooth chest. I tried to memorize the dips and valleys of her body, the curve of her breasts.

  She was an agonizing sort of beautiful, the kind that reached out and demanded everyone take notice. When she smiled, the world smiled with her, and more than once, I found myself wishing I was the man she deserved to be with, the one she had come to Italy to find.

  I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t a mess. While I lay there with Georgie in her bed, I didn’t watch the rise and fall of her breath because it was beautiful, but for the fact that it was reassuring. Despite their best efforts to pull me out of my desolation, most people in my life had eventually been conditioned to withdraw from me at the first sign of displeasure. They were practical adults who, after touching the hot stove once, learned to avoid it. But it had been different from the start with Georgie—her almost childlike indifference to my feelings and heedless disregard for my aggression had allowed her to come closer than anyone before her, even though I’d only known her for a short time. I didn’t know whether or not that was a good thing.

  I hovered my hand over her mouth and felt her exhales heat the center of my palm because I had to reassure myself that she was alive and well, young and healthy. The few times it seemed as though she’d stopped breathing, I’d lunged forward and felt for her breath. After the last time, I tugged my hand through my hair, angry with my fear. I stood and tugged on my shirt, felt around in the dark for my shoes, and let myself out of Georgie’s hotel room without glancing back at her.

  I took the dark path up to my villa and collapsed into my bed when I got there. I wanted to wake up and go back to the way it had been before I’d met Georgie. I wanted to rewind the last few months and erase the feeling of helplessness. I didn’t want to fall for Georgie. I wanted to keep her at arm’s length, and even though I’d taken every precaution to do that, it was too late. Even before we’d kissed, I’d known. I looked forward to working with her at the bed and breakfast too much. I waited for her to arrive each morning, busying myself with something that looked productive, but really, I counted away the seconds until I would hear the gentle creak of the hinges as she walked through the front door.

  Allie’s photo stared back at me from behind glass when I woke up the next morning. It had been taken on our wedding day and she was beaming right at the lens, picking up her heavy dress so she could spin around for me. I sat up in bed and dropped my feet to the ground, wiping sleep from my eyes and reaching out to turn the photo down. The metal frame clanked against my wooden night stand and I stood, craving distance.

  I’d slept with women since Allie’s death. They were one-night stands, meaningless flings I could justify as part of the basic needs of life, but this thing with Georgie already felt a lot like love. I cared about her, and because loving someone else, wanting someone else, wasn’t an essential part of my existence, I began to feel, in a sense, that I was betraying Allie.

  There’s a difference between losing a loved one and losing a person you’re in love with. To be in love with someone is to live inside them. Allie’s breaths were my own and when she drew her last one, I was the one left gulping for air. I hadn’t breathed deeply in five years.

  …

  I dragged my feet, heading to the bed and breakfast later that morning. I ate slowly, standing at my kitchen window and staring out at the sea. I found a few miscellaneous tasks I’d been putting off and told myself I couldn’t leave the house until they were done. I took out the trash and put up the clean dishes. I watered the plants outside and took a long shower, standing under the spray until the temperature had long turned cold.

  I tugged on an old pair of jeans and a soft t-shirt, punched my feet into work boots, and then finally set out down the path toward Vernazza’s square.

  Georgie was sitting outside the bed and breakfast, locked out. She was wearing a loose sundress and her hair fell in a relaxed braid down her back, glistening in the early morning light. She didn’t notice me approach so for those few moments, I had an unhindered few of her profile as she reached into her brown paper sack and tore off a piece of croissant to feed one of the stray cats in the square.

  “There,” she said with a timid smile, offering the flaky bread out for the cat. “Now shoo before Gianluca finds out.”

  It didn’t hesitate, accepting her offer and scurrying beneath one of the docked boats to eat in peace.

  She clapped the crumbs off her hands and leaned forward, resting her head on her knees. Her timid smile lingered as she stared off into the distance, presumably thinking over our night. I wondered if she regretted it.

  I didn’t.

  I’d wanted to. After all, it would have been so bloody easy if only I regretted it, but there was no question that I wanted Georgie.

  “Now you won’t be able to get rid of him,” I said, announcing my presence when I was still a few yards away.

  She jumped and pressed a hand to her heart.

  “Are you mad?! You just scared me half to death.”

  I smiled. “That’s what you get for feeding the cats.”

  She stood and shook the dirt from her dress. “Oh please. There’s global warming and hurricanes and droughts out there—in the grand scheme of things, what’s the harm in me feeding some croissant to a chubby little cat?”

  “I wonder how he got chubby.”

  She grinned. “He’s got big bones. He’s got common ancestors with lions and tigers, y’know.”

  “Sure it’s not from the pastries you feed him every morning and the fish scraps he nicks every evening?”

  “Never.”

  I was smiling then. Sometime between first spotting Georgie on the steps and coming within a few feet of her, the gloom and unease of my morning had lifted.

  “It’s about time you showed up, by the way. Your tea has gone cold and there was nothing I could do about it.”

  I accepted the cup she extended toward me and then reached into my pocket for the keys.

  “Did you put a little honey in it?”

  “More than a little. You always moan if I don’t put enough in. Just admit you like your tea with loads of honey. Nobody will judge you.”

  I grinned, unlocked the door, and held it open for her. “I like my tea with loads of honey.”

  She curtsied as she passed, this little teasing move that made me laugh. “What a big man you are, admitting you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

  I tossed the keys onto the counter and tried a sip of the tea. It wasn’t yet cold.

  She came to stand beside me, dropped the brown paper bag onto the counter, and tore it open. The smell of baked goods filled the air and we wasted no time tucking into each one, sharing the pastries we both liked.

  “Gianluca?”

  I tore off a piece of the almond croissant. “Hmm?”

  “Should we discuss last night? It’s okay if you’d rather
not. It’s just driving me a little crazy not knowing where we stand.” She continued without giving me time to cut in. “And, of course I don’t expect us to start going on proper dates or anything. God, that’d be so awkward, right? I was just wondering if the whole stripping me down to nothing and uhh…doing what you did was something I should expect to happen again or if we’re just going to brush it under the rug and pretend like it never happened? I’m prepared to do either. I’m really very good at acting cool in situations like this. I won’t make a big deal of it. I’ve had flings before. Granted, they were a few years back and the blokes weren’t as handsome as you. Some of them might’ve had better personalities, but I never hung around to find out because they were just flings after al—”

  “Georgie, you’re doing that thing again, where you can’t stop talking.” Her eyes swept up to mine in shock. “I’m not any more prepared for a relationship than I was yesterday, or the day before.” She opened her mouth to cut in, but I shook my head. She needed to listen for a change. “You’ve seen that I’m a mess, so I’m not going to make false promises to you, but last night was…last night was—”

  “Brilliant.”

  I grinned. “Exactly. And I’m not going to stay away from you unless you want me to.”

  Her eyes went wide as saucers. “God no. Please don’t stay away.”

  “You’re not scared you’re wasting your time? You’re beautiful, y’know. If you actually opened yourself up a bit, you could have any guy in Vernazza that fits your list.”

  She waved away my concern like it meant nothing to her. “I’d rather have this right now. This…no-strings-attached thing. Right? Just fun?”

  “Right,” I agreed.

  We agreed on it, though there was really nothing to agree about except that we didn’t want to stay away from each other. After that, we finished our breakfast in silence. She sipped her tea and I sipped mine. I’d feel her gaze on me and look over just as she turned away, back to the plaster wall in front of us. It was surprisingly funny—I’d spent weeks with Georgie and we’d never had a bit of silence between us; she ensured that. Her brain must have been working overtime to get a handle on our situation.