Every Single Thing About You: A “Tuck Yes” Love Story - Book 3

by Hopkins, Faleena

  Chapter 20

  The villa is protected by a security gate. I see three cars pulled up to the curb outside, drivers waiting. Slowing the scooter, I look through vintage iron to find Tempest and the others approaching. We both changed, but she outdid me by a long shot. I’m just in jeans and a t-shirt, hoody tied around my waist, leather boots I brought despite how much room they took up in my suitcase.

  Tempest is wearing one of her long bohemian-style dresses, lavender and beautiful against her skin, delicate pendants fighting for attention. Her long brown hair is wavy from the braid she released it from. The only casual thing about her is that, like many New Yorkers used to walking long distances, she’s wearing bright white sneakers. Both ankles sparkle with jewelry. Fingers, too. Only one bracelet, charms dangling as she motions with her story.

  I grip the handlebars, rev the engine, and she looks over, lips parted upon recognition of me. You have to press a button to exit the villa, and Joan hits it for everyone, calling over to me, “Tempest says you’re the smart guy!”

  Shaun grumbles as he heads for one of the cars, “Don’t know why you’d want a scooter. Have you seen how these people drive?”

  A woman around his age, agrees, “I came here to relax,” following him.

  Joan sidles up to me. “How long did it take you to rent this?”

  “Fifteen minutes?”

  She turns to a British woman I learned is named Meredith. “Is this something you’d be interested in?”

  I’ve been to London many times, modeling for Fashion Week, so I recognize the accent as she asks, “Are you kidding? Yes!”

  Tempest is staring at me, silent, while others head for the cars. She must’ve told them, that’s what she was gesturing about on the way out here.

  “Ready, Ms. Tuck?”

  She smiles, but glances to Joan’s question: “How far is it away to rent one?”

  “The walk was about ten minutes.”

  Joan turns to Tempest. “Is there a reservation for lunch?”

  “No. From what I researched about Marina Grande, there are several restaurants to choose from right on the beach. I thought we’d feel it out, and if people wanted different things, they could!”

  Joan asks with hope in her eyes, “Meredith?”

  The Londonite smiles, “Could do!”

  Tempest offers them, “Why don’t you have the car drop you off at the rental place?”

  I agree, “They’ll know where it is.”

  Joan explodes, “Great idea!” heading for the cars and waving for Meredith to join her.

  Tempest walks up to me, looking shy. “Guess that leaves us.”

  Unhooking the extra helmet, I feel my cock start to pulse, “Guess so. Hope this fits.” She’s about to touch me for the first time. My carrying her to bed doesn’t count. That was different. She’s awake this time. And I’m finally aware that I want her.

  As the cars pull away from the curb, Tempest checks out her helmet, frowning at the strap. “How does this work?”

  “Put it on. I’ll help you. Fit okay?”

  She tugs at it, wiggles her mouth. “Yes.”

  “Good. Here.” I pull the strap through both rings, weave it back again through one, and snap it in place. “How does that feel?”

  “Like an alien with a huge head.”

  “You look beautiful.” My smile fades with hers, and I grab the handlebars. “Climb on.”

  Tempest touches me as if it’s not right to, grip tentative as she throws a leg over and mumbles, “Shouldn’t have worn a dress,” gathering it modestly, and adjusting her weight, sneakers finding the pedals with difficulty. “Oh!”

  I reach behind me and clasp her thighs, “You’re doing great,” holding on a second longer than I should before I grip the handlebars and clear my throat. “Put your arms around me.”

  She hesitates, and slides her arms around my waist, fingers sliding over my abs, but barely touching.

  I hit the gas hard and make her tighten her grip, “Josh!”

  “It’s okay to touch me. I won’t bite. Yet.”

  She hits my stomach, “Very funny.”

  Oh, I wasn’t joking.

  Chapter 21

  I knew from watching him in my classes that Josh’s body was chiseled, but to feel the hard curves of his abs with only cotton between us, is a heightened experience.

  I’d been afraid I wasn’t interested in sex anymore. That, I know now, is not the case.

  With Josh’s hoodie separating my abdomen from his lower back, I press myself closer, tighten my thighs against his, even though he’s not going fast anymore. My heart is. “Isn’t this amazing?” I yell over the wind.

  His voice is deep and quieter as he calls back, “It’s incredible.”

  I quiet mine. “Was I being too loud?”

  “I can hear you. And I’m listening.”

  What does that mean?

  Does he know it’s women’s catnip?

  The ride into the city is magical. We pass homes that have stood here for centuries. The history of each, what must have happened inside, plays with my imagination as I hold tight to Josh around winding streets that felt no need for a grid.

  “How do you know the way?” I call up.

  He answers like men do, “Map,” needing no more than one word to explain all.

  Since we’re in the South of Italy I shouldn’t have been surprised to see palm trees, but they’re here, bright green leaves reaching for a clear blue sky that shows no sign of storm. As we pass a school, I point at it, and he nods. Is he thinking what I am, that children were so lucky to have grown up in a place this serenely beautiful?

  Even though the warmth of Josh’s body surpasses the beating sunlight, I follow my primal instincts and press closer to him, feel the rise of his back on an inhale that makes me loosen and scoot away. “Sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “I was…too close.”

  “No,” he grunts, head turning slightly to add, “You weren’t.”

  Nervously I ask, “You sure?”

  “I want you to hold on so I can drive better. It uh, helps me balance.”

  Scooting up as he makes a slow turn at a round-about, I tighten my arms again, fingers spreading on abs that clench as I touch them. Is he recoiling? I can’t tell. “This okay?”

  “It’s great.” He guns the throttle with no cars ahead to slow us down on a straight street, stone residences and bright green trees on both sides.

  “I thought scooters only went slow!”

  “Not the new ones.” He guns the gas more, skyrocketing my adrenaline. “Told you we could fly!”

  Laughter breaks free and I shout a cry of celebration, making Josh laugh with me.

  He’s forced to slow as the buildings become businesses with signs over every door, no separation between them. Shops for locals are soon overwhelmed by tourist traps far less gaudy than those in Times Square.

  Josh cranes his neck to look for a street sign, of which there seem to be few. Our helmets hit.

  “Sorry!”

  He distractedly replies, “All good.”

  “You lost?”

  “Never ask a man that.”

  I grin and drop it, remembering Evan telling me the same. If a man is lost, he needs to find his way. It makes him feel like he can take care of his woman.

  His woman.

  But I’m not Josh’s.

  Even though…

  I can’t deny it anymore.

  I really want to be.

  As we pass the same street twice, I tighten my hold on his strong body and enjoy the time we’re together, knowing we’ll get to where we’re meant to be, eventually.

  Chapter 22

  Riding through swerving streets and relying on memory, we pass a park with a large angel statue on our left, an upscale hotel and restaurant carved into the bay on our right.

  Recognizing her hired cars, I stop by the first parked one, and Tempest asks the driver, “Where is everyone?”
r />   With a thick accent he informs us, “No drive. Must walk.”

  “I’ve got this,” I reassure her, finding a place to park along other scooters, and we dismount, Tempest first.

  She smooths her dress, waiting for me, facing what looks like an alley with stones embedded in the path. “Kinda like the cobblestones in Soho,” she smiles before adding, “I don’t see anyone.”

  “Must’ve already gone.”

  Side by side, wordless we walk down a slender winding road, residences reaching up with clothes drying on wires off balconies here long before any of us.

  We turn several bends until we see a picturesque Marina with colorful buildings four stories high watching over tented dining that lines a narrow beach, small boats either tied to docks or dragged onto the dark sand itself, as if frozen in time in a Fellini film when the great director was still alive.

  We find the others who rode in cars have chosen to stick together, seated at Ristorante Taverna Azzurra with menus in their hands as they greet us. Tempest beams at them while taking a place across from Shaun, motioning to the empty seat beside hers for me. “Everyone find their way okay?”

  Overlapping confirmation is quickly interrupted by a server, dark hair and eyes, in his forties. With the manner of a happy expert, English clipped, he addresses us by asking where we’re from. People chime in, and he’s as excited about one as he is another — nobody gets left out of his excitement that they’ve come to his restaurant. We learn quickly that his family has owned it for decades.

  Tempest is charmed by him, and waits until he’s finished to smile, “Can we add one more table?”

  “You have more?”

  “Si. Due,” she answers.

  He lights up, voice loud with enthusiasm, “You speak Italian!”

  “No,” she smiles, “Just a few words.”

  Nevertheless the effort is felt, and he grins at her like she invented the sun, before ordering another man to connect a nearby table to ours.

  Shaun is admiring him, but as soon as our eyes meet, his go dead. “They’re loud here.”

  I correct him, “Free.”

  I can tell he wants to argue, even though it’s true. The guy doesn’t like me. I felt that last night. It’s rare, but some guys give me a hard time for no other reason than they believe I get all the girls they want. Waste of energy, in my opinion, to compare yourself to anyone. Never makes you more attractive.

  We order wine, in no hurry, and when Joan and Meredith arrive, Tempest stands up. “Sit here!”

  As they take their seats, I ask, “How was it?” interested since they were the only ones brave enough to try.

  “Amazing!” Joan grins, telling the group, “You guys have to do it! We got lost, but who cares! We’re in Italy!”

  Meredith asks Tempest, “What are you drinking?” and lunch continues in a group-effort, overlapping conversations about where everyone is from, what got them here, and if they’ve ever been.

  When food arrives and I’m tearing into my pizza, Tempest asks me in a voice lowered for just my ears, “Are you feeling better?”

  My eyebrow cocks.

  Shaun asks, “You sick?”

  “No.”

  He looks at Tempest.

  She lowers her eyes to her pasta.

  Realizing what I’d missed, I fill in the blank for her benefit only, telling Shaun, “I lost my wife.”

  His eyes clear of the judgment he’s had toward me, and his back straightens. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry!”

  Joan stopped talking to Meredith when I said that, and she reaches past Tempest to touch my hand. “I’m so sorry, Josh.”

  “Been in a dark place.”

  “That’s why you’re here?”

  I glance to Tempest. “No.”

  Joan retrieves her hand, smile returning. “How’s your pizza?”

  “Not as good as New York.”

  A few students laugh, making me realize others had been listening. Tempest gives me an encouraging smile. I reach under the table, clasp her thigh, and release it, eating my food in silence until the check comes and Tempest takes it since all meals are included.

  I didn’t pay for the retreat online, so I pull out my wallet, but she stops me.

  “I’m not in the pot.”

  She eyes me, “When did you buy your ticket?” implying it must have cost more than everyone’s without the advance purchase they all benefitted from by booking through her.

  My lips tighten. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Next time. You got the scooter.”

  Meredith announces, “I haven’t been to a beach in years!” and it’s quickly decided we should all walk it, even though I give no vote, mind still on that check.

  A few stop at a souvenir shop, but the rest of us walk to a small stretch of dark sand where little kids run into water, shouting in Italian, their squeals of happiness making Tempest smile to me, “Will probably misses you.”

  “Probably doesn’t.”

  From the corner of long eyelashes, she stares at me. “Why do you say that?”

  “Not sure if you noticed, but I haven’t been a barrel of laughs. Nax is more fun.”

  “You can be fun. You were today!”

  “Couldn’t be for a while.”

  “And now?”

  “Now’s different.”

  She stops walking, letting the distance grow between us and the rest. “Are you forcing yourself to try?”

  I frown, “No.”

  “Because if you do that, you’re not ready.” Tempest touches my arm, sending electricity as she tenderly explains, “Everything takes time, and that’s okay. If you force things, they fight back.”

  “You’re speaking in yoga terms.”

  “I’m speaking in life terms.”

  “I thought you meant specifically me.”

  “I mean everyone. We’re emotional beings. All of us.” After staring at me for a few seconds, she drops her gaze and her hand, slow to say, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place.”

  “Tempest, I’m not forcing anything. If I were, you’d know.”

  She tilts her head, eyelashes rising. “What does that mean?”

  I step closer until I’m gazing down into her speechlessness, inches away. “You’d know like you know right now, as you feel me here, this close to you.” I lift her chin with a hooked index finger that’s steady and sure. “You’d know what my intentions are. Are you beginning to guess?” I let her go, and walk away. “That’s what I mean.”

  Chapter 23

  I stare after him, body on fire, mind a tornado.

  What just happened?

  Primal.

  Sensual.

  Sexual.

  An announcement.

  A warning.

  He’s not here for any of the reasons I thought. Not to relax. Not to fuck with me. But…to fuck me.

  I felt it.

  I feel it now.

  In a daze, I follow the others and do as they do, take off my sneakers, feel the sand warm under buzzing toes.

  We’re entangled in a web made by the people we care most about, so there’s no way that Josh — a man I know has integrity — would toy with me as a possible one-night-stand or a vacation fling. In fact, I don’t believe he’d toy with me at all.

  So what is he saying?

  I came here to build something.

  I’m having such a hard time with this!

  Will is really hoping that you two might get together.

  It goes against everything I’ve received from him before.

  Do you have any idea how important this could be for both of us?

  I blink as a slow wave envelopes my bare feet, the dawning question impossible to ignore. Did Josh come here for me?

  My gaze rises from the water and locks with his, several of my students happily wading in the waves between us. I tilt my head, and Josh walks over, boots imprinting on the sand a path to me. “You get it now?”

  My lips part and his dark gaze drops to s
tare as I lick them in an effort to speak. No words come, and Shaun interrupts us, “Tempest, how about if we stay here an hour longer?”

  I tear my gaze from Josh, and nod. “The shops will always be there. Stay as long as you like.”

  Looking more content than I’ve seen the angry New Yorker, ever, Shaun turns to the water and wades in until his pants are wet to his knees. He looks like a kid again.

  Josh’s smile comes slow, patient, and he gobsmacks me again. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. There was a reason. I’ll tell you about it when we’re alone.”

  Joan shouts, “Tempest! Come look!”

  I rasp against a lump of shock in my throat, “Excuse me,” and pull myself away from him.

  Pointing to a beached white fishing boat that couldn’t fit more than two people — Joan asks, “Do you have family from here?”

  I crane my neck to read it. “Tuck,” I smile, blinking as sunlight reflects off the paint. “Not that I’ve heard of.”

  “I bet you never expected to find that here!”

  My gaze drifts to Josh as he strolls on his own, back to us. “No, I really didn’t.”

  My schedule for today was as thought-out as all of the others, but this is the only one where we don’t have free time on our own.

  I wish so much I hadn’t done that, because all I want to do is hear the reason he’s been rude to me, and to talk to him. Be alone with him.

  Because it’s our first full day, we adhere to my schedule with the exception of a prolonged stay in Marina Grande. Shopping in Sorrento with its walking path of stores, Josh stays by my side as the group does what groups do, bobbing and weaving into old buildings, sharing the experience of buying everything from souvenirs to jewelry to expensive Italian bags.

  For me, it’s impossible to forget our conversation, and from the looks we share while browsing, he feels the same.

  I interact with everyone as I’m supposed to, participate as best I can, no one the wiser.

  It isn’t until we walk back to our parked scooter that we’re alone. Stopping in front of Piazza Della Vittoria park, a statue of an angel brandishing a sword to my left, I find my voice. “Josh, wait.”