“Your brother will be thrilled, I’m sure.”
He snorted and they grinned at each other until she lowered her lashes, giving them both some relief from the sexual tension which amped between them with every minute which passed.
She turned back to the view. “Where is your house?”
“There.” He lowered her feet and wrapped himself around her back, happy when she rested her head against his chest. He pointed it out to her.
“This can’t be comfortable for you.”
“It’s perfect.”
“If I’m going to lean on you, then put your legs on either side of me,” she ordered. “You don’t have to be uncomfortable just because I’m sprawled across you.”
Uncomfortable?
Try in agony because that pert butt of yours is now resting against my cock?
Every ounce of discipline he had was going to be needed to keep from pushing against her. He didn’t want to break the spell which was weaving around them.
“Why Italy?” she asked after long moments of silence where they’d just enjoyed being together, right here, right now. “Why not home in the US?”
“Many reasons.” He rested his cheek against hers. “But the main one is here is the one place Gillian can’t get a Visa for. Europe is out of her range unless she wants to pay for an investment Visa, which she won’t because if she had five hundred K, she’d spend it on handbags, shoes, and shit.”
“All the children and puppies who could eat for that kind of money.”
He agreed. Just because you had money didn’t mean you had to spend all of it at once, or in one store. “Right.” She moved out of his arms, and he immediately felt the loss untilshe stretched out on the blanket next to him and propped one cheek in her hand and smiled up at him.
Sipping wine. Laying on their sides. Just talking about movies, books, places they’ve been, where they would like to go. Everything and anything which popped into their heads, neither noticed the hours passing.
“What’s your favorite color? Nope, no…” Jorja giggled. “Let me guess, black.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Orange or red.”
She nodded at him. “I totally got that wrong. I’ve only seen you in black.”
“Orange or red is the color of a flag to air lift us, or so the bombers know where we are and don’t drop lead on our asses. I swear my favorite color on those days is orange so dark it’s almost red.”
She nodded as if he’d dished out the most important information on the planet. “Noted.” After a heartbeat she continued, “And not on those days, is your favorite color different?”
“Yup.”
He barked out a laugh when she poked him in the ribs.
“Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“Sea-green.” He gently brushed his fingertips over her eyes. “Like the ocean on a stormy day.”
“Fish.”
“FROG.”
“Huh? What did you just call me?”
He laughed so hard he spluttered. “Not you. Me… I’m the frog.”
“I don’t understand?”
“I was a SEAL. We’re the frogmen.”
