6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Josh

I turn my head to the side, feeling the soft pillowcases against my skin. It's my first reminder that I'm not in my own bed. Luckily, sleeping next to Layla wasn't so bad. I think she even passed out before I did. The Great Wall of China she constructed with pillows made it feel like I was alone most of the night.

I peek to my right and notice her side of the bed is empty. There's no sign of her on the couch or at the table.

The clock lets me know it's seven in the morning. I think I slept for almost twelve hours. Shit, I hope that at least means I slept through any possible jet lag.

I should get up to see where Layla is. I don't know what the plans are, but I think I'm supposed to spend the day with her. Why else would I have come? At least, I don't think she's planning on going off on her own.

The warm summer breeze comes through the door leading to the terrace. I spot her outside, sitting on a comfy chair, coffee in hand .

Damn. I forgot she was in my clothes. Seeing her in them last night was a sucker punch to the gut. A chance to see what she would look like if she were mine. If I were good enough for her and made enough money for her to bring me home to her parents.

Not that I don't know her parents, but I don't think I'm what they had envisioned for their little girl.

"Mornin'," my sleepy morning voice rasps.

She turns around quickly with a bright smile. A strange sensation takes over in my chest, familiar to the one I had yesterday. I don't know what she is doing to me.

I'm used to putting her in a certain category at home while having to be on my best behavior because her brother is around. I think this one-on-one time is getting to me, making me feel things I shouldn't be feeling. Things that are easier to ignore in a group of loud, obnoxious friends.

"Good morning. There's a nice single-serve coffee maker over there. Lots of options."

"Nice. I'll grab some. Be right back."

After I make my coffee, I grab the seat next to her. The first sip hits the spot. It's different from the kind we have at home. Stronger.

"Ever have a view like this with your morning coffee?" I ask.

She smiles behind her cup. "Not even close."

"I still can't believe we're in Italy. Never thought I'd be here."

Her eyebrows raise. "Is that a good or a bad thing? "

I smile. "It's a good thing. So, uh, what's on your agenda for the day?"

Her head tilts to the side as she looks at me uncertainly. "My agenda?"

I shrug my shoulder. "I didn't want to just assume you wanted me with you."

"Oh, you don't have to spend the day with me if you don't want to. I can just…"

I stop her before she even finishes. "I never said that. Layla, I'm here to spend the time with you."

She bites her bottom lip, drawing my attention to her mouth. I've only felt those lips on mine once, but I could never forget the feeling. Soft and full, perfectly kissable lips.

"Okay," she gives me a small, tentative smile. "Well, I wanted to start with taking a water taxi to Como to do some sightseeing. Just kind of stroll around, then get some lunch there."

"Sounds cool with me. Do we want to grab some breakfast first?"

"I might grab a bar or something to have on the way. But I know I'm about to eat my way through this place, so I'd rather save the calories for lunch and dinner."

"You got it. No breakfast. Shoving our faces for lunch and dinner. I'm down."

She shakes her head at me, but her smile tells me she might actually be lightening up around me.

After we get ready, we walk towards the water right outside of our hotel. She looks beautiful in a pair of light green shorts and a white top with brown sandals. Her hair is down, and she's wearing minimal makeup, which she pulls off easily because she's so damn beautiful.

We are led to the hotel's dock which, apparently, has a water taxi that stops by every thirty minutes. We don't talk much as we wait. We both continue to look around at everything around us. It's easy to just get lost in thought while you take in what surrounds you.

When the boat finally arrives, I motion for Layla to go ahead of me.

"Buongiorno bellezza," a young, attractive-looking male says to Layla as he holds his hand out for her to step onto the boat.

I make a mental note to look it up, but I think he called her beautiful.

"Grazie," she replies flirtatiously.

I follow her to the front of the water taxi, where she takes a seat next to the railing. The water around us is so clear you can see the rocks and fish everywhere. It looks like a swimming pool instead of a lake. You don't see water like this in America.

"I think he's checking me out," Layla whispers to me.

"Who?" I reply roughly as I scan the boat.

I'm ready to beat whoever is making her feel uncomfortable until I look up at her and see her smiling and fixing her hair. Is she fucking kidding me? I follow her line of sight and see the Italian guy who works on the boat ogling her.

He's not subtle, nor is she, and I'm not thrilled .

"You two on a romantic vacation?" he dares to speak to us in his thick accent.

I move to put my arm on the railing behind her, trying to signal to the man to back off.

Layla lets out a ridiculous giggle. "Oh, we aren't together. He's just a friend. If you could even call him that."

I swallow hard, trying not to reveal the anger that her words evoke in me. I didn't sign up to be some loser who follows her around while she flirts with every guy in sight.

"A woman like you shouldn't be out with a friend in beautiful Como. You should be treated to all the luxuries this place can offer by a man who knows what he has in front of him." He raises his eyebrows at me with a challenge, as if daring me to be man enough to be that guy.

And there Layla goes with another hideous giggle. This time, I can't hold in my groan.

"What's your problem?" she asks with a hint of annoyance.

"Nothing at all. Just enjoying the beautiful views around us," I say, then turn my head away from her.

Thankfully, Fabio gets pulled away to do some actual work on the boat. The rest of the ride I'm able to actually take in the scenery and slightly enjoy myself, even though his words echo in the back of my head.

Even if I was interested in exploring this with Layla, which I'm obviously not, I can't afford to spoil her with all the luxuries this place has to offer. I'm no fool. I know George Clooney doesn't have a place here for its affordability. I could never give Layla what he was referring to. I'm just your average man who works a blue-collar job and brings home enough to be comfortable.

And I'm okay with that. I'm happy with that, actually. It's not until I'm near Layla that I'm reminded of my lack of success in this world.

"What's first on the agenda?" I ask her as soon as we're off the boat.

She looks up at me through her sunglasses. "I wanted to stroll around first if that's all right with you."

I shrug my shoulders. "It's your trip. I'm just here to tag along."

Como looks exactly like any Italian city I picture when I close my eyes. It has cobblestone streets, old buildings made of stone or cement.

We stroll through the streets as crowds of people take up every inch of space. There are restaurants, stores, and bakeries everywhere. It seems like every other yard someone is walking with their dog. Layla squats to greet all of them. I never knew she was such a dog lover.

"Oh, look at this restaurant," Layla wanders over to a corner restaurant with seating out front on the cobblestone. "Can we eat here?"

"You're the food expert. I trust your instincts."

Layla manages to charm her way to the last open table outside. The restaurant is on the outskirts of the town, so we also have views of the mountains and the lake.

"Should we order some wine?" she whispers like she's asking me to do something illegal .

I chuckle. "It's vacation. Don't you know you can drink alcohol morning, noon, or night on vacation without any guilt?"

"So, if I order a bottle, you'll drink it with me?"

"I think I'd be okay with that. As long as you pick out my lunch for me. This is mostly in Italian, and I don't know what I'm reading."

"Done."

She smiles, and I realize I like it when she forgets that she hates me. I wonder how long it will last.

After the waiter has poured our wine, Layla puts in our food order in Italian. I have no idea what I'm about to eat, but I kind of like the mystery of it all. I lean back in my chair and rest my hands behind my head. I must admit, it's nice being on a vacation. I've been working like crazy this past year. It's taken a toll on me.

"Have you thought about your restaurant at all since we've been here?" I ask Layla.

"Ugh, yes. I'm doing everything in my power to trust Zane and not check in on him."

I've met Zane a bunch of times. I'm pretty sure he's tried flirting with me in hopes of flipping me to the other team. He's a good guy, though. Works hard and is good to Layla.

"Zane can manage. You know he's more than capable."

"I know. It's just…that place is my baby."

"And you've done an incredible job with it. You have it running like a well-oiled machine." Her eyes open wide as her mouth falls slightly. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? "

"Nothing," she shakes her head. "I'm just surprised to hear you say that. I didn't think you cared much for my restaurant."

"Wait…what? Why would you think that?"

She turns her face away from me as she answers. "Just always seems like you do what you can to avoid going there or forcing Asher to pick somewhere else."

I stiffen in my seat, momentarily abashed. "Shit, I never knew you noticed that. I just got the impression that you didn't want me there. But you have to know," I lean forward and grab her hand, "I think your food is incredible."

A blush runs along her cheeks. "Thanks. That means a lot."

Just as I'm pulling my hand away from hers, our food comes out. The waiter places some kind of pasta in front of me. Whatever it is, it looks better than anything I'd eat in America. It's not pasta drowning in a sauce.

"Wow, look at this," I say as I get a glimpse of her plate. "I can't wait to dig in. What am I eating exactly?"

She looks amused as she scoops up some of her food. "You are eating tagliatelle in a wild boar sauce, and I have risotto with braised veal in a lemon sauce."

We both eagerly grab our forks and start to eat.

It ends up being a surprisingly peaceful lunch. Neither of us seem to annoy one another. Maybe that's what good food and wine do to people; makes them get along.

We take the water taxi back to our hotel and change into bathing suits to take a dip in the pool while we enjoy some drinks .

As soon as we get to our lounge chairs, I reach behind my back and take my shirt off. I don't miss the gleam of interest in her eyes as they roam my body.

I guess there's one benefit to working in construction. I may not bring in the kind of money that most women dream of, but the manual labor has blessed me with a body that tends to make women go crazy.

She bites her bottom lip, never tearing her eyes away. My dick grows hard watching her reaction. I try to hide my smirk, even though I want to gloat and point out how she's still attracted to me, even if she hates me.

Then karma slaps me across the face when she takes off her black coverup. Her white bikini doesn't cover much. Her large breasts are spilling out of each side of the triangles. I look over and see a group of men on the other side of the pool pouring all their attention on Layla.

I know it's not my damn place to say anything to her, but I don't relish the idea of other men seeing so much of her body.

Then she reaches down for some sunscreen, and I see half of her ass is hanging out as well. My head falls back as I use every ounce of willpower that I have to keep my mouth shut.

"What's wrong with you?" she asks nonchalantly.

"Nothing," I bark back through gritted teeth.

"Geez, what's with the sudden mood change? You suddenly realize you may have an STD from all your slumming around?"

I don't even give her comment any attention. It's bullshit, and she knows it. She's just trying to get a rise out of me. I swear, I think she gets off on it .

I grab my own sunscreen and work it onto my chest. I'm not sure what pisses me off more, the attention she's getting in her bikini, if you could even call it a bikini, or her insult about my sex life. I refuse to look up at her, knowing she is rubbing her lotion all over her body right now. I don't think my dick can handle it.

"Shit," she whispers, which finally draws my eyes back to her.

"What's wrong?"

Her hand is reaching behind her back while her face strains. "I can't reach. Can you put this on my back?"

The asshole in me wants to prove a point to the onlookers who are still watching her. One guy pushes the other, then points to Layla. Fuck it. I'll make sure they know she's off-limits.

"Sure. Lie down on your stomach."

When she's on the lounge chair, her fucking luscious ass in my face, I squirt some of the lotion on my hand and scoot to the edge of my chair. I start in the center of her upper back and begin to rub it in. Her skin is flawless and smooth.

Her head is turned towards me, but she has her eyes closed.

I squeeze more lotion on my hand and start to rub it along her lower back, just above the top of her bikini bottoms. I make sure to get her sides, then I move my hand up her side until it hits the side of her breast that's spilling out of her bikini.

Her eyes fly open, and I wait for her to yell at me, but she says nothing. Instead, she watches me as my hand rubs along her breast. What starts as something to show up the guys across the pool, turns directions quickly .

I move my hand down her side again, then dare to push it even further when I continue all the way down to her ass. Her eyes show no sign of surprise or apprehension, they just hold mine like this is exactly what she wants me to be doing.

I cup one cheek in my hand and resist the urge to spank it. Shit, she has some nice cheeks. They would look incredible taking her from behind. I move to the other cheek and give it the same treatment. At this point, there's no way in hell I can stand. My dick went from semi-hard to a full-fledged, raging hard-on.

Before I get to a point where I do something stupid like think she possibly wants me again, I pull my hand away.

Clearing my throat, I try to act indifferent. "There you go."

I lay back on my lounge chair and close my eyes, willing my body to calm down. I hear her whisper a thank you, but I need to focus right now.

I take a couple of deep breaths.

The entire thing has completely backfired. My body is all of a sudden acutely aware of the beauty next to me, and I'm afraid the desire it stoked can't be tamed.