New Title 1 (28 page)

Eventually, Sebastian rubbed my arm and stood up straight.

“I guess we’d better get going before Signora Battelli starts vacuuming around us.”

“Ok
ay,” I said, smiling up at him.

At that moment,
I’d have followed him to the four corners of the Earth and the very gates of Hell.

We walked back to our room in blissful silence, and every now and then I felt Sebastian
’s fingers squeeze mine.

“I can
’t stop smiling,” I said, stupidly. “I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my mouth.”

“I know what you mean,” said Sebastian, grinning back. “Although I
’ve got some ideas about how you could do that for real later.”

I slapped his arm.

“You don’t change, do you, Hunter!”

He threw himself back on his bed and grinned up at me.

“Do you want me to change?”

“Oh, you could do with a bit of polish here and there, but otherwise, no, you
’ll do.”

“I
’d like you to polish me right now,” he said, smiling wickedly.

“Well, I
’d love to oblige, but Signora Battelli is going to be knocking on our door in about two minutes.”

He pouted. “We could make it quick.”

“Oh no, I want to take my time.”

“How much time?” he said, his gaze heated.

“Hours, possibly days… whole months even,” I said, staring back at him.

He groaned and closed his eyes. “Months?”

“Years,” I said, softly. “A lifetime.”

He sat up, his gaze serious. “Do you mean it, Caro, a lifetime?”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. Then his head sank to his chest. Slowly, he
opened his eyes and looked up at me: his smile was glorious.

“Ok
ay,” he said, his face glowing with happiness.

Yes, I did mean it. There was no doubt. And I could tell from Sebastian
’s reaction that he was overwhelmed with happiness. I felt the same way. Overwhelmed, over-brimming, over-full, flooded with joy.

We packed up our small bag
, moving easily around the room, touching each other as we passed, as if there was a physical necessity to express our happiness somehow.

Sebastian
paid off a relieved Mrs. Battelli: we’d taken so long, she was obviously wondering if we were planning on moving in permanently.

Sebastian thanked her beautifully for her delicious breakfast, telling her that he
’d never enjoyed a pensione more. Then he kissed her hand, and the stout widow blushed.

“You are so smooth, Hunter!” I scolded him as we headed out to
get the bike.

“I was just telling her the truth,” he said. “I think we should come back here, and book the same room every year – then spend the night fucking.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“Yeah, I know, baby.”

Sebastian’s motorcycle had survived the night. I pulled on the now familiar black helmet and settled myself onto the seat, enjoying the comforting smell of old leather, with my thighs pressed into Sebastian. I’d almost go so far as to say I felt comfortable – although a car with a roof and doors also had a lot to be said for it. Hmm, hot, steamy car-sex with Sebastian. On the other hand, now beds had been invented…

We headed out of town and southeast along the coastal road
, burning out of Pisa and racing into the sun.

I wrapped my arms around Sebastian
’s waist and thought what a difference a day can make. Yesterday, I’d been unhappy and abandoned. Today… well, it was the start of the rest of my life.

The campsite I’d found was just an hour from Pisa, outside the village of Polveroni. The Mediterranean stretched before us and the sun heated the sea gently. Better still, from Sebastian’s perspective, long breakers rolled in, providing perfectly rideable waves of between three and four feet.

His eyes lit up
at the surf barreling up the beach, and just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, we saw a shop with boards to rent.

“Game on!” he
said to himself.

We parked the mean machine and Sebastian practically sprinted inside, talking animatedly with the owner. He returned a few min
utes later with a battered longboard, a huge beach towel, and a pair of garish board shorts.

“Hey, Chief! You
’re in danger of doing color!” I teased him.

He smirked at me. “Yeah, well, i
t was all they had. Either that or I’d have to do it in the buff. What do you think, Caro, naked surfing?”

“It could catch on, or you could get arrested. But I
’m telling you, Sebastian, if you do get arrested and I don’t get laid tonight, I’m going to be mighty pissed at you.”

He laughed delightedly.

“Now you’re talking. By the way, the guy in the shop said that he rents out rooms. He said it’s pretty basic – just a big, old bed and a small bathroom. But I thought it would be kind of cool to be able to hear the sea tonight. Is that okay?”

“Very ok
ay.”

He grinned at me, but his smile slipped away as he gazed
in horror at the sensible, navy-blue one-piece that I was holding in my hands. It was the swimsuit that I usually wore to the public pool.

“Wait,” said Sebastian,
“
that’s
what you’re going to wear?”

“Yes, why?”

I stared at him, utterly baffled.

“
Stay here.”

He strode off back towards the beach shop. He
returned a few minutes later with a tiny bit of string and a few triangles of material and handed it to me.

“Here. Wear this.”

I held out the skimpy bikini. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was barely big enough to cover my nipples, let alone anything else.

“I can
’t wear that, Sebastian, there’s nothing to it! I’m forty, not twenty!”

“You
’ll look amazing, Caro. I want every guy on the beach to know how hot my woman is.”

“I may as well go topless!”

His eyes heated, and a licentious expression appeared on his face. “Yeah, baby.”

I shook my head at him. “You
’re crazy.”

“Crazy in love,” he said, sco
oping me into a kiss that made my bones rattle.

“Fine, I
’ll wear it,” I said, breathlessly.

He gave m
e a dark look that said I damn well would.

Jeez, he could be so bossy. Why was that hot?

Sebastian held up the beach towel to cover my modesty while I changed into the tiny bikini. Although ‘modesty’ and ‘tiny bikini’ in the same sentence didn’t really seem to be a good fit. A bit like the bikini. Whichever way I tugged it more flesh than seemed acceptable was exposed.

“I can
’t wait to take that off you,” he whispered in my ear.

“Sex or surfing,
Sebastian?”

“Sex,” he said, at once.

I laughed, even as my body overheated.

“W
ell, you’ll have to take a rain check: we haven’t booked that room for the night yet. And I’ve warned you what will happen if you get arrested.”

He smirked a
t me.

“You owe me a lot of rain
checks, Caro. I’m going to enjoy cashing them in.”

He didn
’t bother using the towel when he changed into his board shorts: he just dropped his pants and briefs right out there in the open.

“Sebastian!” I muttered, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

He’d already pulled on the garish board shorts by the time my eyes flickered back to him. He laughed at my surprised expression.

“Years of practice changing out of my wetsuit in windswept parking lots along Sunset Cliffs, Caro,” he said. “I
’ll show you how quick I can get out of my clothes now if you like?”

“Go. Surf.
”

“Here –
look after these for me.”

He pulled off his dog
tags and placed them around my neck, where the small metal tags nestled between my breasts. He stood back for a moment.

“Those look hot on you, Caro. Really fucking hot.”

Then he scooped me up in a ridiculous Hollywood kiss, dipping me so low, my hair was touching the sand, then he put me back on my feet. I was still off balance as he ran down to the water.

I loved to watch him surf: it brought back many
good memories of our time in San Diego. There had been too few from that turbulent summer, but being on the beach with Sebastian, watching him in the waves, those had been happy times. He was so graceful out there, charging down the glassy, green surfaces; diving through the foam.

I
’d taken my camera with me, so I zoomed in and snapped some photographs of Sebastian surfing. I had a pretty decent lens, and I got some really good close-ups of him in action.

Hmm, photographs of Sebastian in action, now there was a thought to warm a cold winter night.

I lay back on our beach towel, relaxed and filled with a quiet happiness. Once again my life had swung across the pendulum from bitterness and despair to an overwhelming sense of love and being loved. And this time I would allow myself to believe in it.

The warmth of the sun was pleasant, adding to my sense of peaceful well-being. It wasn
’t really hot, maybe a balmy 68
^o
F or 69
^o
F. Enough to be relaxing: not enough to worry about getting burned.

Suddenly I
realized someone was standing over me.

“Buon giorno!”

An attractive man about my own age was smiling down at me.

“
Ciao?” I replied.