“Yep.Come on.”I led her toward the dock where the gondola I’d reserved was waiting.
I helped her into the boat, then sat beside her.Our gondolier—dressed in a striped shirt, straw hat, and a red sash that matched the cushioned seats—greeted us in an Italian accent that was either authentic or a convincing performance.When the gondola pushed off, I slid my arm around Morgan’s shoulders, pulling her gently against my side.
As we floated beneath arched bridges and past storefronts designed to mimic Venetian streets, the gondolier sang in a deep baritone.The painted sky overhead gave the illusion of dusk and our thirty minute ride passed in a comfortable silence while I watched her enjoy the experience.Romance had never been my forte, but I had to admit that this hit the mark.Morgan’s happy smile and the sweet kiss she gave me at the end of the ride stayed with me long after we stepped back onto the walkway.
Afterward, we dined on pasta for dinner then meandered through a mix of stores at The Venetian, mostly window-shopping without the intent to buy.All the while, I kept an eye out for any signs that there was something Morgan might like to purchase, but she didn’t seem particularly drawn to anything in any of the Grand Canal Shoppes, even the high-end luxury fashion stores.
Then, we hit the bookstore and her whole demeanor changed.
It was one of those rare bookshops that smelled like leather and aged paper and focused mostly on classics and hard to find novels.The place was quiet, with only the light jingle of a bell above the door and the low murmur of conversation among the customers already present.
When we walked inside, for the first time that evening Morgan pulled away from me.She moved with quiet reverence along the shelves and I watched her trace the spines of antique volumes—some pristine, others so weathered their titles had faded.She occasionally paused to gingerly extract one, leaf through its pages, and replace it back on the shelf with care.
I pretended to browse, but mostly I watched her, utterly captivated by her beauty and the simplicity of just being with her.The more time we spent together, the deeper she drew me in.And now that it was just the two of us alone, I didn’t have to hide my admiring stares.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed, halting at a glass display case near the front counter.
Inside were several classics, but the one she gravitated toward was a first edition ofThe Wonderful Wizard of Oz,with a price tag of eight thousand dollars.
“It’s illustrated,” she said with a smile.“I bet it’s beautiful.”
“Should I call the woman over to open the case?”I asked.
She shook her head.“No, don’t waste her time.It’s lovely but expensive.More than I’m willing to spend.”
Maybe so, but her gaze lingered on the book just long enough to tell me everything I needed to know.When she excused herself to use the restroom, I didn’t hesitate.I waved the shopkeeper over, asked her to unlock the case, and waited while she wrapped the book carefully in brown tissue paper.The moment she handed it to me I knew I’d made the right call.I paid and stepped toward the entrance to wait for Morgan.
Her eyes went straight to the package in my hands the second she reappeared.“What did you buy?”she asked, but the widening of her eyes told me she already knew.
I held the book out to her.“I think you’re right.The illustrations are probably beautiful.You’ll have to let me know.”
Her hand trembled slightly as she accepted the gift, her fingers brushing over the wrapping reverently.“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I said, sliding an arm around her waist and guiding her out of the bookstore.“But I wanted you to have something special to remember our time together here.”
She still thought it was too expensive.I could see the argument forming behind her eyes, but the slow, stunned smile spreading across her face shut it down before it began.Which made the purchase worth every dime.
We strolled on, and remembering how much Morgan liked chocolate, I guided her into a specialty chocolatier shoppe next.The first thing she noticed was a chocolate fountain in a glass case.White, milk, and dark chocolate flowed from the ceiling, cascading over glass basins in a stunning display of sweet perfection.Even I had to admit it was mesmerizing, and when Morgan licked her lips, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hungry for something sweet, baby?”I murmured, keeping my voice low so only she could hear.
Her gaze remained transfixed on the fountain.“It looks delicious.”
I leaned in closer.“You know, they sell jars of that chocolate sauce.”I gestured toward the counter where the glass containers lined the shelves.“Which might come in handy later on.”
“Oh, yeah?”She met my gaze, her cheeks flushed a soft pink.“For what, exactly?”
“I can think of a few uses.”I splayed my hand at the small of her back and didn’t miss the way she shivered.“Dripping it all over you.Licking it off and taking my time doing so.”
I heard her breath hitch.“Liam,” she whispered, glancing around at the other customers browsing the shop, who weren’t paying us any attention.“We’re in public.”
“I know.”I grinned, enjoying the way her pupils dilated with desire.“Which is why we should probably wrap this up and head back to the hotel.Unless you’d rather stay here and let me describe in exact detail where I want to put that chocolate sauce.”
She swallowed hard and shook her head, but there was a smile on her lips.“You’re killing me.”
“Not yet, but soon.”I brushed a chaste kiss against her temple, though my words were anything but.“So, what will it be?Dark, milk, or white chocolate?”
“Milk chocolate,” she managed as I steered her toward the display.“Definitely milk chocolate.”
