I lose myself beneath his fingers, and it’s hard to tell how much time has passed: it feels as though the world has shrunk to the two of us in this bed. When the moment comes to slip on the condom, Ryan’s hands tremble as he rips open the foil. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want him inside me.
When he finally pushes into me, I gasp. He begins slow and sensuous, then moves faster, and it feels so good, I can’t believe we’ve wasted so much time not doing this. It’s different than how it was eleven years ago—he’s more confident and passionate, I feel less tentative and awkward. I lose myself in the intense pleasure of everything he’s doing to me: his light kisses along my cheekbone, his hot shallow breath in my ear, his hands roaming over my body, one clasping my waist, the other dipping under my back to rock me into him.
Breathless, I close my eyes, clutching him.
It all seems so clear now. I never want to let go.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the Galleria dell’Accademia, Ryan takes my hand in his and lifts it, kissing my knuckles when no one is looking. At lunch, we sit next to each other and pretend to listen to the conversation while our knees press against each other under the table, sending tingles down my spine. After buying gelato from Mercato Centrale, we hang back while the group meanders through the crowd and he waits until they’ve turned a corner before wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him and kissing me, his lips cold and sweet from the ice cream. We have a staring competition during the wine tasting at the vineyard, and I offer him a seductive smile as I swirl the wine around my glass, and later, when we find ourselves alone strolling through the olive trees, split from the group, we kiss with my back against the tree as he whispers into my ear that I’m driving him crazy.
We drift around Florence like we’re in a movie montage, grinning from ear to ear, stealing kisses when no one’s looking, giggling like teenagers. I don’t want to go back to England, where Ryan and I work together and it gets complicated. I want to stay here in Italy and live at a luxury hotel and eat delicious food and drink incredible wine and have mind-blowing sex with Ryan before falling asleep in his arms.
It’s perfect here.
And I guess that’s part of the problem, the worry niggling at the back of my head when I wake up next to him the morning we’re due to fly home.What happens now?Are we going to start… dating? Is that even allowed when we work together?
It seems ridiculous that Ryan could make me this happy. This is the guy who pushes my buttons like no one else; who humiliated me when I was young and naïve; who lied to me then and could very well be lying to me now.
But this is also the guy who knows I like honey in my tea; who reads all my articles despite often having no idea who the celebrity in question even is; who opens up to me in a way he doesn’t around other people; who delivered a baby in the back of a taxi with the jacket of his tux; who looks at me like I have the answers to all of his questions; and who has the kind of eyes that make me forget about saying or doing anything sensible whatsoever.
“Your eyes are so gorgeous,” I blurted out to him last night in bed, after sneaking off from the group early again as they celebrated the final night with espresso martinis by the pool.
“You think so?” he said, moving his pillow closer to mine as we faced each other so our noses were almost touching.
“Oh please, don’t act as though you haven’t been complimented on them your whole life. They haunted me, you know. After I leftThe Daily Bulletin,I couldn’t stop thinking about your damn eyes.”
“Do you think if I’d mustered the courage to knock on your parents’ door after that whole debacle, we might have been able to work it out?” he asked, reaching over to brush my hair away from my face. “If I’d explained that I’d kept the job news to myself because I liked you so much, and I didn’t want to lose you—do you think you would have understood?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I was pretty pissed at you. And very focused on my career. I probably wouldn’t have wanted to listen to you.”
“But if I’d fought for you a bit harder, things might have turned out so differently.”
“I think they’ve turned out all right,” I reasoned. “Maybe it was better that we were brought back together at this time in our lives. We were so young then.”
“That’s true. Although,” he said, a knowing smile spreading across his face, “you haven’t exactly made our reunion smooth sailing.”
“Me? What about you? Disagreeing with everything I say at work.”
“Youdisagree withme.Even when I know you think I’m right.”
“I would never be so petty.”
He gave me a look. “You would absolutely be so petty.”
“Says the guy who raced me to the tube after a book event.”
“Youracedme.” He chuckled. “You hate it when I win anything.”
“Only because you do that smile.”
“What smile?”
“That mocking smile,” I explained. “It’s like this very small smirk whenever I argue my point with you or end up making a fool of myself or say something about celebrities. You get this little teasing smile on your face and I want to wipe it right off with cunning words.”
He laughed. “You are very cunning. But wait, you think I’m mocking you?” His face turned more serious. “Harper, I have no idea what smile it is exactly that you’re talking about, but I can assure you, I’m not teasing you. You just… I don’t know… sometimes you say things and—”
I rolled my eyes. “Iamuseyou.”
