“Middle ground.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Unless you want to stay here all night and sleep the rest of the hours off.”
That got to her and had her snatching his hand before she dragged him downstairs and outside. He noted her caution the moment they stepped out on the streets, watching everything warily.
“No one’s going to pounce on you here unless you act out,” he reminded. “It’s not New York.”
“Exactly. It’s a foreign land where we don’t know the number of clans and supernatural creatures.”
“No clans. No creatures. No meeting with clients until tomorrow, only a place waiting to be explored and food waiting to be tasted. Come on.”
This time, he took her hand and didn’t let go as they walked the cobblestones, and he pointed out places. At every spot they stopped at, her caution became lesser and lesser until it was completely gone, replaced by awe when he droned on.
“This was created by a man named Luis, who started as a farmer before he discovered his talent in sculpting his surroundings on slabs: wood, stone, you name it. The Meadow of Serenity was declared his best work and has him set for life when they bought it and displayed it here in a tourist spot.”
“I thought you said you only came here once,” she said, skeptical.
He bit back a smile. “It doesn’t mean I don’t do my research and find out everything I can about the place where my art is…or where I’m taking my so-called vacation.”
The truth was, Italy had always been a haven for being a place that his family found lacking in charm, even more so than the less famous cities which they often compared to New York. He did the same, too, but couldn’t help marveling at how everything came to life before his eyes, so different from the pictures and the place he once visited.
“It’s lovely,” she crooned, reaching for the art piece expanding over a public wall, then hesitating. She made a sound of alarm when he took her hand and urged it forward until her palm was pressed against the cool stone. He stepped closer behind her to give her privacy to admire, effectively closing them in from the outside world.
“Touch it. Feel it. Memorize its lines. From what I heard, the farmer poured his heart and soul into this piece.”
His hand stayed on top of hers, feeling her warmth. The voices surrounding them faded as her hand didn’t move, seemingly wanting to savor his touch first. And then it did move, tentatively at first, before gaining traction, exploring the crevices and bumps that blended as one to create nature.
“It’s not all smooth,” she observed. “The mountains are rough, and the fields are prickly, but the water line…it’s so smooth and so defined. I can feel every rush and line of the river.”
He didn’t remove his hand. He absorbed her words and felt what she felt, a longing to share a discovery that squeezed his gut.
“Do you feel the trees?” he asked.
Her fingers trailed in that direction. A sigh fell off her lips when she caressed the leaves, the sound dreamy and vibrating with delight. He could feel her vibrating, too, her warmth calling to him like it always did, her energy building up to be something contagious.
“Prickly and smooth. Unpredictable,” she whispered in delight.
The longing transformed into something else, creating a vision of himself gliding even closer until he was pressed against every inch of her back, and there was no more space between them. He settled for inhaling the nape of her neck—a mistake as he was assaulted with the strangest combination of sweet and tangy, her blood a confounding mystery. Would she taste as good as she smelled? Would she yield, or would she kick him far away and yell obscenities in his face? The latter hardened his cock and desire blinded him in a flash...and that was enough to shatter his crazy illusion and ground him back to reality.
Edmund stepped back with effort and gulped down the rest of his imagination, refusing to ruin this moment for her. He watched the flush of wonder in her eyes when she finally removed her hand from the stone and whirled to face him.
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For taking me here,” she said, sincerity brimming. “I’m not a very courageous person since becoming a mom, but I’m learning again because of you.”
He wasn’t a very brave man either, but he suspected he would be to give her what she wanted. Edmund kept that secret to himself and shoved it way down to the corners of his soul. Then he smiled and latched on to the reminder that this was his friend and she deserved the best vacation there was.
“That’s good. Because our next adventure involves a famous coffee shop where you have to be the bravest soul to try all that caffeine.”
She laughed.
“Bring it on. Lead the way.”
“Are you sure I’m dressed right for this event? Or that I should be here? Maybe they just want to talk to you.”