30. Thirty

Thirty

S oft lips brushing against mine wake me from my slumber the next morning. I open my eyes to see him gazing down at me.

"Good morning, beautiful," Art says the three words that come a close second to him telling me he loves me.

The late morning sun is shining through the open balcony door, and a warm breeze is carrying through from the sea. The calming sound of waves crashing against the shore can be heard in the distance, and here I am with a sex god draped over my body. I think I'm in heaven.

"Morning." I give a contented sigh, stroke my fingers across the scruff of his jawline, and look up into his eyes.

"We need to get up. Lucy needs to fetch some clothes, and she's bringing over my bag from Big Steve's room." He nuzzles his nose into my neck, giving me the distinct impression that he feels just as enthusiastic about moving as I do.

Lucy. I can't help feeling a tiny bit bad, as if I've abandoned her, despite her texting me last night to say she and Big Steve were having a great time. I worry things are moving too quickly.

"I hope she's okay."

He laughs softly, clearly not sharing my concerns. "I'm sure she and Big Steve had a very good time last night." He levels his face with mine. "Not as good as us, obviously." He smiles and kisses me.

We haven't left the room – or the bed – since yesterday.

"He really likes her?"

He nods slowly. "Yep. On the flight here, he kept talking about her. It was doing my head in, to be honest. I was glad when we touched down."

"Don't be horrible." I laugh.

"You don't need to worry about your friend." He disentangles himself from me and climbs out of bed. "Big Steve's a teddy bear."

He turns and heads towards the bathroom, leaving me with an uninterrupted view of his beautiful nakedness.

"Stop looking at my arse," he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom.

Busted!

I giggle and force myself out of bed, pulling on the nearest available piece of clothing, which happens to be Art's black T-shirt from yesterday.

There's a knock on the door, and I hear the click of a key card in the lock before the handle turns and the door opens a fraction.

"Is everybody decent?" Lucy calls before pushing the door open. She's wearing her purple bikini from yesterday and carrying a tan Louis Vuitton leather holdall.

"Are you okay?" I ask even though the massive smile on her face is a complete giveaway.

"You could say that. Here's Art's stuff." She drops the holdall down onto the floor and looks at the T-shirt I'm wearing. "You two have kissed and made up then, I take it?"

I tug at the edge of the T-shirt, pulling it down to make sure I'm decent, and feel ridiculous as my cheeks heat up. "Erm … yes. Do I really need to ask whose room you stayed in last night?"

Now, it's her turn to go all shy. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. "Steve's, on the floor below."

My eyebrows shoot up, and I smile. "I bet you did."

I don't get to grill her any further about her night of passion as Art walks out of the bathroom, a white towel wrapped round his waist, and my friend's concentration lapses. Her eyes widen like saucers as she watches him cross the room. If she were a cartoon, her eyes would be bulging and her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

"Erm, your … er … your stuff."

He flashes a smile, picks up the holdall, and heads back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

She shoots me an envious look and mouths, Oh my God , before snapping back out of it. "I'll just collect a few of my things. I'll leave some stuff here for you to wear," she says once normal service has resumed.

She opens the wardrobe and starts pulling clothes off hangers and draping them over her arm.

Thank God for Lucy and her overpacking gene. If it wasn't for her, I'd have to go shopping.

"So?" I urge, eager to find out what the hell has happened between her and Big Steve. "What's the goss with you?"

"A lady never tells." She smirks.

"So, what's stopping you then?" I joke.

"Oi." Lucy chucks a black bikini top at me and feigns a hurt look. "I'll tell you later when we go out."

I frown. "Go out where?"

"On the boat."

"What boat?"

She freezes, and for a second, there's a look of panic in her eyes before she seems to remember herself and relaxes slightly. "Yeah, the boat trip. We're going on a boat trip," she says.

She's acting weird.

"It's news to me."

"Why don't you ask that Italian Stallion boyfriend of yours about it?"

I'm about to ask what's with all the secrecy when we're interrupted.

"Why don't you ask that Italian Stallion boyfriend of yours about what?" Art's propped against the bathroom doorframe with his arms folded, wearing nothing but smart tailored black shorts. He's obviously been earwigging our conversation.

Her mouth drops, and she adopts that wide-eyed look again. I can't really blame her. I've seen him with his top off loads of times, and I still haven't gotten used to it.

"About some boat trip," I say.

I swear I see Art and Lucy exchange a brief glance.

"We're going on a boat trip," he replies.

"When did you organise that?"

"On the flight here."

He doesn't waste a second, does he?

"I'll leave you to it. See you later." Lucy clasps her clothes to her chest and flashes him an apologetic look before scuttling out of the room.

What the hell's going on?

I frown as I stare at the closed door she just walked out of. "She's acting odd."

"Too much sex will do that to you." He laughs.

"Then, I must permanently act odd."

He flicks me a grin and slides his hands around my waist, and I breathe in the freshly showered scent of him.

"I like you wearing my clothes."

He's got that look in his eye, and I know if I don't move, we'll end up back in bed.

"I need a shower."

"I like the smell of you." He pulls me to him and kisses me on the lips. "You smell of me and sex. You smell of us."

I definitely need to move. "I need to get ready for the secret boat trip no one's telling me anything about."

He gives me a long look. "It's not a secret, but you're right; we need to get ready."

"Well, you'd better let me go then."

"Never." He places a chaste kiss on my lips, reluctantly releases his hands from round my waist, and playfully smacks my bottom as I walk past him into the bathroom.