He can’t help himself now. He’s laughing along with me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He laughs harder, pulling at my hand to bring me closer. “You’re crazy, you know.” He nips at my bottom lips, trailing his hand down to my bum, momentarily forgetting about the boars before they start up again.
“Oh fuck no,” he cries and scrambles back. “Look at them, lined up there. They look like fucking rhinoceros. Not pigs.”
“There’s a first. Rhinoceros-sighting in the depths of Tuscany.”
He picks me up again and swats my arse. “Not the time to be a smartass, Annabelle Peters. Not the fucking time.”
Jack picks up his pace, and I yell, “Run, Forest, Run.”
He turns his head and bites into the flesh of my arse. “You’re going to fucking get it when we get back.”
* * *
“Am I alive?” I croak, reaching out for some water. “Where’s the bloody water?”
“Be quiet,” Jack moans, throwing a pillow over his head.
“You be quiet, Mr. Let’s Get Some Wine and skinny-dip. Why the heck did we think that was a good idea?”
Jack dry heaves. “Don’t even say the word wine ever again in your life.”
I chuckle, but it barely comes out. My throat is too dry and hoarse. “This is your fault. Get me some water,” I demand, then take in the room, realizing what a disaster it is.
All the lights are on. There are crisps scattered all over the bed, parts of the blanket are wet— clearly we never dried off after the pool—and one of Jack’s socks is hanging off the fan.
The fuck?
“My fault? It wasn’t the tequila shots or hours of wine drinking that did it?” He leans up, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, is the room spinning or is it just me?” he cries, then bursts out laughing when he looks at me.
“What?” I get up to use the loo, and what I see in the mirror is traumatizing. “Oh. My. God,” I scream, then hold my head as a throbbing pain thumps in my temple.
Jack walks up behind me with a glass of water. “Puts a whole new meaning to your morning Medusa hair, doesn’t it?”
I chug the water, then slap him on the chest. “Shut up, Jack!”
Besides my hair being a complete rat’s nest, it’s no longer blonde. It’s green from the bloody chlorine in the pool. I have an event to go to for work tomorrow when we return to London. What the hell am I going to do?
Jack passes me another water then wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on top of mine while looking at me through the mirror. “Could be worse.” He shrugs. “I almost died last night.”
I narrow my eyes. What the hell was he talking about?
Oh…
“Death by pussy?” I smirk.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “And you say I’m addicted to sex. No, Belle, not death by pussy. Death by wild boar,” he says dryly.
“Don’t be dramatic.” I walk over, sit on the toilet, and start to pee.
He stands there in shock, then quickly turns up his lips.
“What?”
“You’re peeing in front of me. We’ve hit a new level of intimacy.”
I roll my eyes. “Only you would be excited about this. I’m going to die if I don’t have more water. Can you get me some?”
“Sure. I’m going to make coffee to try to feel human again. Do you want one?”
