“Yeah,” I agreed, raising one eyebrow. “Shockingly short.”
Her hand clamped down on mine, stopping my ascent.
“Okay, Columbus, you’ve discovered enough for one evening,” she said, laughing at my chagrined expression.
Then her smile softened.
“Come, tesoro, take me home.”
I woke up long after dawn—unusual for me since I’d joined the Marines. It might have had something to do with the way my body felt deeply relaxed, or the fact that I’d made love to Caro for hours the night before.
Yeah, we fucked too, and sometimes that was rough and fast and hard, but something about her softness and sweetness and the love I saw in her eyes made me want to go slow and savor every second. And although I didn’t want to admit it, our time was running out—again.
I smiled as her eyes slowly opened.
“Ciao, bella.”
“Ciao,” she said, smiling up at me.
She stretched, accidentally bumping against my dick that had been rigid for quite a while and was begging for attention.
My hand drifted over her hip, and she didn’t stop me when my fingers slipped over the damp curls of her mound and into her slick heat. She sighed and groaned, a sound that caught in my chest and made my heart beat faster. Christ, this woman.
Two hours later, Signora Carello served us breakfast on a small terrace overlooking her backyard. It was a blaze of color and I could see that Caro loved it here. If my girl was happy, I was happy.
The signora joined us for coffee.
“So,” she said, smiling at Caro, “you are hoping to find family in Capezzano Inferiore?”
Caro’s expression was wistful.
“That would be the icing on the cake, but really I just want to see the village where my father came from. If I find family, well…”
It pissed me the hell off that I couldn’t give her everything she wanted.
The signora smiled sympathetically and patted Caro’s hand.
“Perhaps you will find family in a different way,” she said, glancing at me and smiling.
Caro looked at her dubiously and I thought she was going to put her reporter brain into gear, but she didn’t. Instead, she drained her coffee cup and stood up to leave.
Signora Carello squeezed my hand and whispered, “Amor regge senza legge.”
It took me a moment to translate, but then I grinned at her and she winked. Yeah, I liked that one: Love rules without laws.
We strolled through Salerno and I enjoyed the feel of Caro’s small hand in mine. I’d fucked a lot of women in the last six years, but holding hands, out in public, that was way more intimate. I liked it: it felt right.
Caro stopped to admire the yachts in the harbor as we leaned on the railings, the sun turning the water to a deep blue.
“I should take you sailing some time,” I said. “If we had more time, I’d rent us a boat and teach you.”
“I already know,” she smiled. “Although I haven’t been out on a sailboat for years.”
“Really?” I was surprised. “I didn’t know you could sail.”
“Ah, you don’t know all my talents yet, Hunter.”
I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I’m looking forward to finding out.” Then I straightened up. “But when did you learn?”
She seemed uneasy, and when she answered I knew why.
“David taught me.”
“The asshole?”
“The very one.”
I hated hearing her talk about her ex-husband, and I definitely didn’t want to hear that he’d taught her to sail. That skewered my heart. I knew it was irrational to hate something that had happened long before Caro and I had gotten together, but I did. I hated every single second that she’d ever spent with him. I hated that he’d been her first. I hated that he’d nearly broken her, and if I ever saw that fucker again, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.
“It was a long time ago, Sebastian,” she said softly. “And we agreed we couldn’t change the past, so stop looking so mad or I’ll have to kiss you indecently in public.”
I was still off balance as she spoke, but my pulse quickened when her meaning filtered through the red mist that had descended the second she’d mentioned her ex-husband.
“Nope, still pissed off, Caro. You’ll have to kiss me. I don’t know if it’ll work, but you could try.”
I stared at her challengingly.
“Are you sure, Sebastian?” she purred. “Because I don’t want to get you all hot and bothered.”
“I’ll risk it.”
She turned to face me, standing so close that our bodies touched. And then she ran her hand over my ass, under my t-shirt, and dragged her nails down my back hard enough to make my breath catch in my throat. With her other hand, she pulled my head down and kissed me hard, stealthily rubbing over my zipper at the same time.
“Fuck, Caro! Let’s go back to our room right now.”
She pushed me away, laughing, her eyes dancing with lust. “No, Sebastian. That was just my distraction technique—which, by the way, I didn’t learn in the Marines.”
I groaned, then discreetly adjusted the fucking inconvenient bulge in my pants.
“Should we go to Capezzano Inferiore now?” she asked innocently.
I gave her a look that said we’d be evening the score later.
It was a steep walk up to her father’s village, but the view was amazing and in the distance we could see the island of Anacapri.
I never thought I’d come to a place like this, and for a second I was ten years old and copying a British accent as I imagined that I was James Bond. I glanced sideways at Caro—I already had my own Bond girl. My dick liked the idea a lot and I had to run over some silent drills in my head before another boner snuck up on me. Bastard seemed to be on high alert 24/7 around Caro.
The village of Capezzano Inferiore looked dead, the only sign of life a mangy old dog scratching in the shade. It was pretty much a dump and I hoped Caro wasn’t too disappointed. I guess I could see why her old man would have wanted to leave. When I glanced at Caro, a lump formed in my throat: her shoulders were hunched and I could tell she was close to tears.
“We don’t have to stay, Caro.”
She sighed as she tried to smile. “It’s okay. I don’t know what I was expecting: Papa always said it was a one-horse town where the horse had died. I guess he was right.”
“Look, that guy over there is just opening up his café—let’s go get a drink, okay?”
She nodded slowly, and I took her hand and led her over to the small table outside. If anyone knew any gossip about a place like this, it would be a bar owner or a priest.
The café owner looked surprised to have customers. I had no idea how the guy made any money in such a dead-end dump. I ordered a beer and Caro asked for an espresso and a glass of water.
I wasn’t expecting too much, but when my beer arrived, it came in a frosted glass, and Caro’s espresso was served in a miniature coffee pot with a pot of raw cane sugar lumps. It was a nice touch.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said to the guy serving us. “My girlfriend’s father came from this village. We were wondering if you might have known him: his surname was Venzi.”
The man scratched his head. “That name seems familiar, but I’m not sure. Let me ask my wife—she’s lived here her whole life.”
Caro shifted anxiously in her seat.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Caro,” I reminded her gently.
“No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head. She was a God-awful liar.
A moment later, the owner’s wife appeared.
“Buon giorno. You are asking after the Venzi family? How can I help you?”
“I was just wondering … my father, Marco Venzi, he was born here. Did you know him?”
The woman smiled warmly.
“Goodness! Marco Venzi! That’s a name I haven’t heard in a very long time. He was the boy who left to live in America. Your father, you say? Yes, I knew him.”
Tears glittered in Caro’s eyes, and I squeezed her fingers as she failed to hide her emotion.