The most recent trip was only Mariano and I. We spent two days visiting fruit farms in the area. We picked cherries, peaches, and my personal two favorites, apples and pears. We brought back crates of them to Hannah. Although she grew her own gardens and orchards, I knew she would enjoy having a variety to can.
The weather was still warm, and as we made our way back, the sun was just starting to set. The wind whipping through the interior of the truck was tepid, blowing the loose strands of my hair around, although it was being held down by my hat. My faceand hands were sticky with a variety of fruit juices. I had never had so much fun, or felt so content, in my life.
Back in Italy, I loved browsing the piazza and searching for the freshest food items available. It was the same here. I offered Mariano the last bite of my pear. It was still a little early in the season for them, so it was a bit hard and somewhat bitter, but I loved the taste of it all the same.
Mariano looked down, his face darkened by the sun, the scent of him fresh and clean, although the smell of dirt and fruit surrounded us. He shook his head. “You finish it, Annie.”
I did, and he exploded with laughter. I reached in the back and pulled another from a crate, offering it to him after I cleaned it on a napkin. He glanced at me, his eyes heating, before he took a massive bite, juice running down his chin.
I breathed out, wishing I could use my tongue to clean him up. After the night at the natural springs, we had not touched in that way. We were taking things slow.
However, my body refused this pace. The want was turning me into a flashing pulse, and I knew it would not be long before I exploded.
The ache between my legs was a physical thing. The feel of his face between my thighs was branded into my bones. How his tongue had been magical and had sent me over a height I had never reached before. I had been free-falling, trapped in the deliciousness of my orgasm, all my nerves so sensitive, it would have only taken one nudge of his knee to get me off again.
Mariano breathed out, his hands squeezing the wheel. He was feeling it as well. There was a constant pressure between us. A growing storm.
Sighing, I reached back and grabbed another peach. I had to do something with my hands and mouth, or I was going to attack and bite him.
He glanced at me. “You’re a hungry little monster.” He glanced in the back. “You ate an entire crate of apples, pears, and peaches.”
I laughed; it was breathy. “The cherries were good, but the rest are my favorites. I love fruit.” I shrugged.
“You love to eat.”
“Sì.” I smiled.
“Bene.”He nodded. “I will feed you forever.”
When he said those words, it was as if he was saying,I will take care of you forever. The vow behind the conviction in his words was louder than the words themselves.
He did not consider it me taking care of him when I threw him a surprise birthday party when we arrived home. Our families were in on it, because…tada, we shared the same date in August. Mariano had planned a surprise party for me as well. Our families knew what we were both doing and did the planning and executing for us both. Scarlett and Brando even called, and when Mariano put me on, Scarlett wished me a happy birthday for them both.
After I thanked her, I cleared my throat. “He is begrudging his birthday party,” I said. “However, I do not usually go easy on him.”
She laughed. “Good.Just remember…whatever you both do to each other, make sure it’s out of love, ah?”
This stuck with me. Stuck to the bone.
Whatever you do to each other, make sure it’s out of love, ah?
I was still thinking about the truth in her advice when Mariano took me fishing the next day. Fishing was a quiet affair, it seemed. I wiped sweat from my brow. It felt as though the sun was frying the land before fall came in and took over, the leaves turning brilliant crimson, tangy orange, and shimmering gold, the grass fading into a milder shade of green.
From past visits to the ranch, I remembered how beautiful it was. The changing hands of the season. One canvas bleeding into another, but creating its own scene of beauty.
Mariano moved around my straw hat and placed a warm kiss on my pulse. His hands were just as warm, and they were placed on my hips, his heat burning through the hot-pink tank top and cutoff shorts I wore. His lips moved down and kissed my shoulder.
“If this was a game, Casanova, you would be cheating at it,” I whispered.
His breathy laugh tickled my skin. I lifted my shoulder to my jaw, trying to calm the tickle.
My eyes narrowed and I curbed the instinct to swat. Small bugs hovered over the pond, and they kept landing on me. Not biting, but a constant barrage of buzzing things swarming in front of my face and going for my eardrums. If I would not have been determined to catch at least one fish, I would have given up long ago and watched Mariano collect our dinner from a comfortable spot along the bank.
“I am doing something wrong,” I whispered. “The horses cannot get enough of me, but the fish are terrified of me.”
He shook with silent laughter. I slowly turned my head, not to scare them.
“You’re luring them in for supper,” he said.
