“You’re right,” I murmur, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. “This is the best view.”
His throat works, just once. His eyes drop to my mouth, then flick back up. “Anabel—”
My pulse jumps. Say it. Please, say it. Say you want me. Say you love me.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his hand and brushes his thumb over the corner of my mouth. “You have some gelato,” he says quietly.
“Oh,” I breathe, my body going haywire from the sensation of the pad of his thumb so close to my lips. He shoots me a half smile, that dimple popping, and then sucks his thumb into his mouth, licking the gelato off.
My eyes go wide, a blush spreading from the roots of my hair all the way down to my collarbone. It takes Cole a half second torealize what he’s just done, and now he’s blushing furiously too, sucking in a breath as he looks away.
My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m sure he can hear it. The air between us is thick, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. Cole’s fingers twitch at his sides, and he clears his throat, his gaze darting everywhere except me.
He makes an adorably panicked gesture at the fountain in front of us and starts moving toward it. I follow, wishing there were something I could do to soothe his obvious embarrassment. I wish I had the courage to tell him that he didn’t need to be embarrassed about wanting me, if that’s what’s going on.
So many ifs, all tangled up in doubt and fear.
“Y’know, this fountain—uh, the Fontana del Cupido—it’s, um, actually from the sixteenth century,” he says, his words a little too fast, a little too bright. “Bernini had a hand in it, or at least, his workshop did. The, uh, the carvings here—see the way the water spills over the edges? It’s meant to mimic natural rock formations. Really innovative for the time.” He gestures vaguely at the stone, his other hand pushing back that stubborn curl of hair that’s fallen onto his forehead. “And the, uh, the basin—it’s not just decorative. It was designed to collect rainwater for the neighborhood. Practical and beautiful. That’s—that’s the Roman way, I guess.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and when I glance up at him, I can see that he’s still beet red. His fingers drum against his thigh, restless. “I mean, not that you care about any of this. I just—uh, I read about it earlier. In…a book,” he trails off lamely. He lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, I’m rambling. Sorry. I just—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, and his eyes finally flick to mine. “Sorry.” I feel like he’s apologizing for more than his adorable rambling. The word is heavy, weighted between us.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say softly, and he lets out a long breath. There are times when I miss the way it was before. I miss the ease, the simplicity. Now things are awkward, heavy, stilted. Is it too much to ask for to want all of that, plus orgasms?
The fountain’s stone glows amber in the fading light, water spilling over its edges in a soft, soothing trickle.
“I think there’s an inscription,” I say, stepping forward. The cobblestones are uneven under my sandals, and my feet are tired from all the walking, but I don’t care. I feel oddly compelled to read whatever it says. Cole follows, his footsteps quiet behind me. The air is cooler now, the kind of evening chill that sneaks under your skin when you’re not paying attention. I shiver.
There’s a rustle of fabric, and then warmth settles over my shoulders. Cole’s jacket. His scent wraps around me—cedar and something faintly citrus, like the soap he uses, mixed with the heat of his body still clinging to the fabric. I pull it tighter, my fingers curling into the sleeves.
“Better?” His voice is low, rougher than usual. It makes my toes curl and a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold makes its way down my spine.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The jacket is too big, the sleeves swallowing my hands, but I don’t care. I want to burrow into it. Into him.
The inscription is carved into the stone just above the waterline, the letters worn smooth by the passing of centuries. Cole leans in, his shoulder brushing mine as he squints at the Italian. His breath is warm against my temple when he exhales, and I fight the urge to lean into him.
“Il prezzo del vero desiderio del tuo cuore è una moneta,” he murmurs. I could listen to him speak Italian all day, honestly. “Perché nulla viene senza sacrificio.”
“What does it mean?” I whisper. He straightens, hands in his pockets.
“The price of your heart’s true desire is a coin. Nothing comes without sacrifice.”
The words settle over me like a spell, and my fingers tighten around the strap of my purse. I don’t even have to think. I already know what I want.
Cole. He’s my heart’s desire. For him to love me, to be happy, to have everything he’s ever wanted. I want Cole to be my sweet best friend and my filthy lover. That’s what I want.
A little statue of Cupid perches at the very top of the fountain, chubby and sweet, his bow drawn back like he’s just waiting for someone to fire on. He looks like a little baby angel, so pure and innocent.
I dig into my purse and pull out a one euro coin, the metal cool against my palm. Cole’s gaze flicks to me, one eyebrow lifting. “You’re making a wish?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat is too tight. Hope and need are filling me so fully that I don’t have room for anything else.
Something I can’t name shifts in his expression, but his fingers drift to his pocket, and then he’s pulling out a coin of his own. The air between us goes still. The sounds of the city fade, and it’s like we’re the only two people in Rome right now.
We stand there, coins pressed between our fingers, the water trickling over the stone. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and searching. The space between us seems to hum with energy.
I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool even as my heart hammers against my ribs. “Yeah, I’m making a wish. I’m aware that it’s just a silly tourist thing.”
Cole smirks, but his fingers tighten around his coin. “Yeah, totally…totally silly.” His voice is light, but there’s something in his eyes, something soft and serious that betrays that lightness.
