11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Layla

I've never felt so comfortable in my life. I wiggle around in the bed, enjoying the warmth the covers provide. I love mornings like this when you just wake up feeling cozy.

I hear a groan in my ear, and my muscles go rigid. I realize my entire body is warm because of the man I have climbed like a damn tree in the middle of the night.

My head is in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around me while our legs are tangled together like pretzels. Sometime in the middle of the night, I stripped down to my thong and tank top.

My right hand is on his chest. His naked chest. The man is only wearing boxers, and my thigh is basically resting over his slightly hard dick. Seriously, why have I seen his dick hard more times this week than I've seen of any man in the last three years? And it's not like it's led to me getting anything out of it. I'm still horny and unsatisfied.

Without permission from my brain, my hand runs across his chest, mixing with his chest hair. His arms squeeze me tighter as I hear him stir around. Crap. Why did you have to do that, you stupid hand?

I'm ready for him to jump off the bed and ask what the hell I'm doing.

"Morning," he croaks out in a fog instead.

"Morning," I whisper as I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me.

"How did you sleep?" he asks, like it is completely normal to wake up like this.

"Umm, good. I mean, I'm sorry about this. I have no idea how we ended up like this."

He chuckles, and I feel it vibrate through his chest. "Well, you hit the bed face first last night. You were too tired to build your pillow wall. And it looks like somewhere in the middle of the night, you lost your clothes."

"I was exhausted last night."

"It was a long day," he says. "Are you feeling recovered enough for a surprise this morning?"

I lift my head off his shoulder, careful not to open my mouth too much and scare him away with my morning breath. "What do you mean a surprise?"

"Like, you want me to explain the definition of surprise, or you want me to repeat that I have a surprise for you?"

I glare at him. It's too early for his sarcasm. "Don't be a dick."

He smiles. "Sorry. It just comes naturally. Come on, we need to get ready. "

He kisses my forehead and then gets out of bed. I don't understand this new thing where he kisses my forehead like I'm his girlfriend. Mostly, I want to scream WHAT THE HELL DOES ALL OF THIS MEAN?

"How am I supposed to dress for this surprise?" I ask as he digs through his suitcase.

"There's not a lot of walking involved. You can get away with anything, really."

"And when do I get to find out what the surprise is?" I ask as I get out of bed.

"When we get there, Freckles."

Whatever. I'm too tired to try to analyze what's happening. Josh is in and out of the shower so fast I barely have any time to think.

"I'm gonna be downstairs. Take your time, it's no rush," he yells out before he walks out of the hotel room.

"Pfft, take my time," I mutter to myself.

I'm in Italy, and the man I've pined over for years wakes up to tell me he has a surprise for me. And he thinks I'm gonna just mosey around while getting ready.

Not a chance in hell. I practically sprint to the bathroom and then jump into the shower. I opted for a black and white sundress with my brown sandals.

After spraying my perfume, an absolute must for me at all times, I grab my purse. On the way down to the main lobby, I take a deep breath. Why am I nervous? It's not like this is a date .

When I get downstairs, Josh is talking to a man at the front desk and then breaks out into a laugh. He looks so good: a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and blue shorts.

"Ready?" he says with a big smile on his face when I approach.

"I'm ready."

"Alright. I'll catch you later, Enzo. Thanks for all your help. Come on, Freckles."

As soon as we get in the car, he grabs two cups of coffee out of the holders. "One for you," he says, handing a cup over.

"Wow," I reply. "You really thought of everything. Thank you."

"Let's get this show on the road," he says as he starts to back out of the parking space.

The navigation system on his phone begins directing him through the winding roads along the mountains. It looks like our trip is over two hours, but I don't recognize the address of our end location, and the city isn't showing.

It's not until I start seeing signs and recognizing the trees that I begin to sit up straighter in my seat. "Are we in Tuscany?" I ask.

He smiles. "I figured I wasn't gonna fool you for too long. But we are only thirty minutes away, so I made it most of the trip."

"Oh my god, Josh! I'm so excited! Where are we going?"

"It's a vineyard in the Chianti region. Some family-owned vineyard that generally only sells its wines here in Europe."

"How did you get it booked so last minute?"

He shrugs. "I had the help of Enzo at the hotel. I called him last night when you were sleeping in the car."

"That was really sweet of you." I try to blink away the tears that are threatening to spill over.

He reaches for my thigh and squeezes. "I'm just trying to make this trip what you pictured it to be."

This trip is nothing like I pictured it to be with this man sitting next to me, but I'm beginning to think it's better than I could have imagined.

When we get to the vineyard, Josh and I are taken on this incredible tour that starts with the vineyard itself. We walk along some of the vines while this adorable old man, Lorenzo, tells us all about their growth and the kinds of wines they make.

Josh gets really into, asking all kinds of interesting questions that spark a lot of laughs with Lorenzo. It's just so easy to be around him. He doesn't take life too seriously. There's nothing stuffy or pretentious about him. I may have blocked all those qualities out for years, but they are there.

"Alright, let's go down to the cellar. I'll give you a special tour. It's not part of the package, but I like you two," Lorenzo says as we walk back to the main building.

Josh makes a funny face at me, and I try to hide my laugh. He knows he won this guy over and is definitely gloating, but I'm happy to reap the benefits.

An hour later, I'm tipsy from the wine as we leave the building.

"That was so much fun," I say, then somehow manage to trip on a rock in front of me. "I'm not that drunk, I swear. The rock came out of nowhere. "

He chuckles. With his hands in his front pockets, he turns towards me as he walks backward. "I wonder how many people leave this building claiming they're not that drunk."

I scoff. "How are you not feeling it?"

"Who says I'm not? But I am like twice your size, so I can handle a lot more than you. Come on, let's get some food in you."

He walks along the grass like he knows where he's going. I look around us and only see trees and vines, besides the building behind us that is getting smaller in the distance.

"Um, Josh. I don't think there's any places to eat around here."

"I think you might be wrong about that. What about right here behind this tree?"

I think he's losing his mind until we reach the tree, and I see it. A picnic. There's a blanket with an entire charcuterie board of meats, cheeses, crackers, and a bottle of wine and glasses set up.

It's exactly like I had described. The warmth of his actions spreads through my body. It's overwhelming what I'm feeling.

"Josh," I whisper, then look over at him.

His hands are still in his pockets as he rocks back and forth like he's a bit nervous.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," I tell him. I don't even know how to respond to adequately show my appreciation. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.

"Well, let's take a seat. I think we should start with getting some food in you before you go for any more wine. "

"Yeah," I laugh as we take a seat. "I was eyeing this food either way. It looks incredible. And this view," I continue as I look out at the rolling hills of Tuscany. "It's exactly what I had envisioned."

He leans back on his arm, letting his legs extend out, oblivious to how good he looks.

"Oh, and just so you know, I'm twenty-five percent Italian," he says with a wink.

Oh, boy. My heart is beating erratically in my chest, but I try to play it cool like he has little effect on me.

I smile at him, then take a piece of cheese. "I guess you'll do."

He laughs loudly. "Thanks, Freckles."

I clench my teeth. "Must you call me by that nickname? You haven't used it in years. Why are you saying it again all of a sudden?"

"What's wrong with my nickname for you?"

"Freckles? It always felt like you were making fun of my freckles. I used to get picked on for them, so it just felt like another person teasing me."

I can't even look at him when I say it. It's embarrassing to admit, but I'm just over hearing that name on our trip. But after the silence drags on too long, I look over at him. His eyes are brimmed with tenderness as they hold onto mine.

"I love your freckles. They're the first thing I noticed about you when we met. I instantly fell in love with them. "

I suck in a quick breath of astonishment. With hesitation, I grab a grape and bring it to my mouth, biding my time to respond. Because how do I respond?

I swallow hard. "Umm, thanks."

"Anytime, Freckles."

We continue to eat our food, but every time his gaze meets mine, my heart turns over.

It's the perfect afternoon. I'm trying like hell not to analyze what all of this means.

After we finish our food, we both lay back on the blanket and look up at the sky. I turn to my side to face him.

"Thanks for coming," I tell him.

His hands are behind his head, his biceps on full display. He doesn't look over at me, but I see a flash of humor across his face.

"That's not the reaction I received at the airport."

"Well, you're different in Italy."

"How so?" he asks as he faces me, matching my position.

His thigh brushes against mine. I swallow hard. "I don't know exactly. For one thing, you aren't mean."

"Freckles, when am I mean to you?"

I huff. "Come on. Please don't act innocent in all of this."

A muscle flicks angrily in his jaw. "I'm serious. I may have teased you, enjoying the reaction it gets out of you. But maybe it's because if I didn't do that, I was invisible to you. "

"You have never been invisible to me," I reply softly.

"Maybe not, but that's how I felt. You were either ready to hate me or ignore me. I guess I would rather have you hate me than nothing at all."

I'm not sure what to say back to him. After what he did to me, am I supposed to feel bad for him?

I roll over to my back and sigh. It's always been so complicated between us. The most frustrating thing is that I don't even understand why he did what he did to me. But I just can't bring myself to rehash it on this trip.

"We should get going. It's a long drive back, and I'm not sure we want to be driving around in Italy in the dark for too long."

After we pack everything up and bring it back to Lorenzo, thanking him profusely for all his kindness and generosity, we get into our car to start the long drive back to Como.

Josh pops the address into his phone before we hit the road. He follows the directions while I lie my head back and think back to our conversation.

All these years, Josh thought the only way he could get my attention was by making me angry. Is that true? Probably.

I put a wall up after he hurt me. There was likely nothing he could say or do to make me like him again. The man I thought I knew, the man I'm with on this trip, doesn't seem like the kind of person who would hurt me the way he did. It doesn't add up.

"You wanna look up places to eat on your phone?" he asks as the sun begins to set. "It looks like we're about an hour away."

"Yeah. Good idea." I grab my phone out of the cup holder. "Shoot. No service. "

"Dammit. I guess we can just wing it when we get back. It might be a bit of a late dinner."

"That's fine. I think we…" I stop talking when the navigation system starts to tell Josh something, but then it cuts out, and his phone goes black.

We look at each other and then back at his phone. "What the hell," he growls as he taps at his phone. "Shit."

He begins to slow down as he continues cussing to himself.

"What's going on?" I ask. "Did your phone just die?"

He sighs. "Yes. I don't have a charger. We will need to use your phone. Can you type in the address?"

"Sure." I open my app and type in the name of the hotel, but nothing happens. "Shit."

"What?" he asks.

"No service."

"You're serious right now?" he bites back at me.

I shoot him a penetrating look. "Yes, Josh. I'm freaking serious. I have no service. What do we do now?"

He glares at me. "I don't know, Layla. Let me think for a second."

He runs his hands through his hair and then grips the steering wheel. "Can you check the glove compartment? Maybe there's a map in there."

"A map? What are we—explorers?"

He seems to be growing impatient. "Just open it, Freckles. I don't have time for this."

"Whatever," I reply as I open the glove compartment. Sure enough, there's a map sitting on top. "Here you go, Galileo."

He opens the map and begins to study it like he actually knows where the hell we are on that ginormous thing.

"Ok. We're right here," he says, shocking me. "It looks like we could take this road for another fifty miles or so; maybe by then, we will hit an area with service to get us all the way back. Here, you look at the map; just get me to that highway."

He shifts the car into drive and begins to drive along the road with far too much trust in my mapping abilities. I start to turn the map in circles, trying to understand if we need to take a right or left at the next road.

"What the hell are you doing with that map? Just keep it still."

"Just let me read the damn map the way it makes sense to me," I bite back at him. "Ok. It looks like you are going to go right up here at this stop sign."

We somehow manage to get through a couple of turns, but I'm all lost in this damn map again as I get our direction mixed up in my head.

"What the hell, Josh. How could you let your phone die! This is insane. I can't believe I'm reading a map in the middle of Italy with no backup if this goes south."

He rips out his words impatiently, "I need you to please watch your next words. I'm trying like hell to behave here, to get us through this, but you're not making it easy on me. "

I glower at him over my map. Instead of responding, I try to figure out our next turn. "Up here, you make a left."

He begins to turn then I realize I had it mixed up. "Shit, no, a right. Make a right! A right!" I shout.

I fly forward as he slams on his brakes.

"Dammit, Freckles!"

"Ouch! Did you have to break that hard?" I ask, rubbing my chest where the seatbelt bit into my skin.

"That's it," he pulls to the side of the road and cuts the engine.

He gets out of the car and I watch him walk to the grass on the side of the road as he paces back and forth. What the hell is he thinking? We don't have time to waste out here with him having a pity party. It's getting dark, and I'm starting to freak out.

I push the door open and stomp over to him.

"What the hell are you doing? Get back in that car! We need to turn around and get back on the road."

He ignores me as he continues pacing back and forth.

"Josh! Did you hear me?" I shout even though I'm standing right in front of him. "Josh!"

He stops in his tracks. "Don't push me, Freckles. I'm doing my best not to lose my shit on you right now."

"On me? What the hell did I do wrong? You're the one who let his phone die while we're in the middle of a foreign country with no cell service. I can't believe you're putting this on me…it's so typical, just like," I say but am cut off when his hand grips the back of my neck .

"I warned you not to push me, Freckles," he says before he pulls me into him by my neck.

Before I know it, his lips are on mine. It's not soft or slow. It's all-consuming. The way they dance over mine, it's like each movement is a testament to the depth of our longing.

His tongue mixes with mine in the most satisfying way. It doesn't feel like it could get any better until he fists my hair and growls into my mouth like he's hanging on by a thread. We are kissing like he's going off to war, and we may never see one another again.

Our first kiss ten years ago was sweet and gentle. It was passionate in a different way than it is now. Right now, it's smoldering and desperate. A decade's worth of mixed emotions culminated in this kiss.

He bites my lower lip. "You piss me off," he growls before his lips are back on mine.

I should protest. I should tell him the feeling is mutual, but I'm too lost in the moment. In the way his lips feel while they stake their claim over mine.

My hands clutch his t-shirt as I tug him closer. His hands reach around my waist and grab my ass as he pulls me against him. His hard length presses against me. My body is on edge, begging for a release.

I feel the cool air against my body as he slowly pulls away, breaking our kiss. We are both panting as we stand here looking at each other.

"Shit," he says as he looks around. "We really should get back on the road. It's getting dark. "

I nod my head, not sure how to transition from our kiss to thinking about the placement of the sun. But he takes off towards the car, so I follow.

Once we're back on the road, the mood has shifted. It's awkward, neither one of us acknowledging the kiss because we have to focus on finding our way back to the highway. I feel the tension as he takes his turns. He's nervous about getting back safe.

"Okay, here's the highway," I say as we both seem to breathe a sigh of relief.

The signs are already more familiar once we get back on the main road. I know I've seen some of these on our way here. And just like that, I look down at my phone and have service.

"I have service again. I'll type in the hotel."

"Thank God," he replies as his shoulders visibly relax. "We should be there in thirty minutes now."

The last of the car ride, now that we know we aren't lost in the middle of nowhere, is spent with my brain replaying our kiss. Once we get back, we decide to eat at the restaurant next to our hotel since it's already late. Although, eating late to Americans still seems to be early to Europeans.

The restaurant is fancy, so I throw on a simple black dress. Josh has on a black button shirt with grey slacks, and my body is literally melting at the sight. Why must he be so good-looking?

And why are we not acknowledging the kiss?

Josh opens the door for me and guides me out with his hand on the small of my back. He leaves it there until we're outside, where he silently grabs my hand. I swallow down the words that are threatening to spill over.

The ones that want to ask him what we're doing right now. Instead, we enjoy a nice evening together over a candlelit dinner, where he insists on paying once again.

The entire evening he finds reasons to touch me. Whether reaching for my hand under the table, running his hand along the back of my neck aimlessly while we wait for our food, or keeping it placed on my back while we walk.

It's sweet but driving me crazy. I've been shivering all night from the feel of his hands on me. I need more.

When we get back to the hotel, I take off my makeup and put on his t-shirt and sweatpants for bed. He's already under the covers by the time I get out of the bathroom.

Between being exhausted, angry, or drunk…I've yet to spend a night with him where I've been quite so aware of who's in the bed next to me.

I pull back my side of the covers and crawl into bed as my heart beats out of my chest. I can't find it in me to put any pillows between us. I don't want to. I want to feel him against me. I want to hear his breathing. I want him to touch me, dammit.

He faces me on his side, just watching me with a curious look. I roll over until we're only inches apart.

"What's happening between us?" I finally whisper into the darkness.

His hand comes up and tucks my hair behind my ear. "We're finally being honest with how we feel."

"I need you," I admit, as my body craves him .

His lips curve up in his sexy smirk. "I'll tell you what, Freckles. I'll give you what you need tonight, but not everything. If you wake up tomorrow and don't regret what we did, like you seem to every other time, then you're mine."

A ripple of excitement passes through me. He moves until he's hovering over me then his lips brush gently over mine.

"Is this pussy wet for me already?" he whispers into my mouth.

I'm gonna die. I'm not going to make it through this night if my reaction to this one line is any indication. Am I wet for him? I've been in constant need of changing my underwear this entire trip. But that doesn't sound sexy, so I keep that bit of information to myself. Plus, I'm pretty sure he wasn't expecting a response.

I'm sure he knows exactly what he does to me.

He pulls my sweatpants down a bit until I'm exposed to him but doesn't take them all the way off. His hand gently caresses my skin along my stomach, then down one thigh. He continues this pattern as he seems to stare at me in awe.

"I've never in my life been affected by anyone the way you affect me, Freckles. I'm going crazy here trying to hold myself back."

"Don't. Just don't hold back."

His lips come down on mine with more force this time as his tongue slides over mine.

"I'm not rushing this. I'm not rushing anything this time." He adjusts my leg so it's bent, allowing him to see all of me. Then his fingers slide along my slit. "I knew it. I knew you'd be fucking dripping wet for me. "

His eyes hold mine as he slides his fingers inside of me. I whimper as I feel them stretch me. It's everything, and not enough.

"Memorize this feeling of my fingers fucking you," he growls as he moves them inside of me. "If you're a good girl, it could be my dick tomorrow."

Oh, god, it's like being touched by his words. The pleasure they evoke is incredible. It's been ten years of this back and forth. Of hating him and yet responding physically to him. A decade of foreplay.

He pulls his fingers out and rubs them over my clit, getting it wet, then pushes his fingers back inside of me. Now, his fingers work me from the inside while his thumb rubs my clit at the same time.

His lips are back on mine. I can barely match his kisses. I'm too focused on what his fingers are doing to me.

"Are you gonna come all over my fingers, Freckles?" he says between kisses. "I wanna feel your pussy squeeze them. I want them to be soaking wet by the time I'm done with you."

"Oh, gosh. Josh. Please," I whisper in response.

I'm so close. His thumb is working magic on my clit, bringing me closer and closer to the release I need so desperately.

"That's right. Beg me, baby. Beg me to let you come."

"Please! Please, Josh!"

He hisses as he pulls his lips away from me and watches his own hand in awe. I didn't think he could do any better, but then he pushes them in harder and, instead of releasing them quickly, shakes them inside of me. It hits my g-spot perfectly .

"Come me for, Freckles. Now!" he demands.

And I listen. I come all over him while he violently shakes his fingers inside of me.

"Fuck, yes. I knew you'd come all over me. My entire hand is soaking wet."

I can barely register what's happening until he pulls his own sweatpants down then grips his cock and starts pumping himself while he hovers over me. He's using the hand soaked with my release to spread it all over his dick. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

"Please," I whisper as I reach for him. "Let me finish you off."

He lets go of himself and props himself up with both his hands right above me. I reach for his length, and he hisses the second I wrap my hand around him.

"Freckles, I'm going to embarrass myself here. It's not going to take very long."

I smile and lean into him for a soft kiss. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Then I glide my hand back and forth over his thick cock. It's hard as a rock, and I can feel the thick vein that runs along it on my thumb. After only a couple of pumps, he's panting and breathing heavily.

"I'm coming," he growls as thick spurts of his cum coat my stomach.

We both try to catch our breath as we watch the last of his cum hit me. He leans down and kisses my forehead gently.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he whispers .

He climbs out of bed first, then takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. We jump into the shower and rinse off quickly. He takes his time drying me with a towel and then helps me back into my pajamas.

As soon as we're back in bed, he reaches for me and pulls me into his chest.

"Goodnight, Freckles," he whispers.

"Goodnight." I lie awake on his chest for a while, afraid to wake up and realize that all of this was just a dream.