think I died. I think I died and went to heaven and I’m hearing bells .”
He knew exactly how she felt.
Barely able to move more than his head, he nuzzled her neck. Down below, he slipped out of her, his cock feeling the cold water like a form of punishment, wanting to push back into her body. Quite rightly too.
He smiled against her neck. “Not bells,” he whispered. “Lunch.”
Chapter Seven
The next afternoon Jamie sat in the most comfortable armchair on earth and sketched the sexiest man in the world.
She was naked under the bathrobe. She and Stefano hadn’t dressed since they’d arrived the day before. They spent their time eating amazing meals in the linen-draped gazebo, swimming naked in the pool or making love, and none of those activities required clothing other than the decadently posh terrycloth robes with the hand-stitched coat of arms of the Torraca family over the heart.
Their time was coming to an end. Stefano hadn’t mentioned time passing in any way. He clearly wanted to pretend that they were in some endless now. But it was Sunday afternoon and she knew they would have to leave.
Much as she wanted to, they couldn’t stay here forever.
They’d had another amazing meal at lunch. They’d made love afterward and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. She’d woken up after an hour and slipped out of Stefano’s embrace. He’d fallen into a sleep so deep it seemed like a coma.
No wonder. She couldn’t count the number of times they’d made love. It was as if he were making up for lost time. And in a way, so was she.
Restless, but not wanting to leave the room, she’d pulled out her sketchpad and calmed immediately. Sketching always soothed her nerves, put her in a kind of alpha-wave zone where the cares of the world slipped away.
She sat down in an armchair facing Stefano and sketched bits of him. A powerful hairy thigh. A strong, tanned hand stretched out on the white piquet bedspread. Finally, as if these had been finger exercises, she settled down to the symphony and sketched the whole figure.
Her first impression had been correct. Naked, hair tousled, sprawled on his side and lost in sleep, he still looked like an emperor. Sleep couldn’t erase the lines of power and authority from his face but they could erase the lines of care. He looked younger than when she’d first seen him.
The vacation would end in only a few hours. If this could be called a vacation. It was more like two days clawed out of the face of a rock.
They’d eaten together, swum together, showered together, slept together, made love together. Stefano hadn’t once mentioned the future, or even a future where they would be together. It was as if the future tense had been banned from their vocabulary.
For all Jamie knew, once the helicopter came—first one for him, then another later for her—she would never see him again. For all she knew, these were their last hours together and he was sleeping them away.
That was fine.
Stefano obviously needed the extra sleep; he’d dropped like a stone after lunch. If she had to choose between making more memories with him or safeguarding his rest, his rest came first, hands down.
That was her first clue that she’d fallen for him. Fallen hard.
His rest, his comfort, his safety was of paramount importance to her. Even if they never saw each other again, she’d somehow find a way to keep tabs on him, know he was alive and safe. Maybe through her grandfather? She’d ask Gramps to contact that secret brotherhood made up of a globe-spanning network of lawyers and judges and law enforcement officers and keep her up to date on Stefano’s doings.
It was almost, though not quite, as if she were saying goodbye to him in her heart as her hands busily sketched him. It was one of her finer efforts, but then the subject was remarkable and the portrait was infused with her feelings for him.
At first she’d thought it was merely sex. The best she’d ever had, granted,
He knew exactly how she felt.
Barely able to move more than his head, he nuzzled her neck. Down below, he slipped out of her, his cock feeling the cold water like a form of punishment, wanting to push back into her body. Quite rightly too.
He smiled against her neck. “Not bells,” he whispered. “Lunch.”
Chapter Seven
The next afternoon Jamie sat in the most comfortable armchair on earth and sketched the sexiest man in the world.
She was naked under the bathrobe. She and Stefano hadn’t dressed since they’d arrived the day before. They spent their time eating amazing meals in the linen-draped gazebo, swimming naked in the pool or making love, and none of those activities required clothing other than the decadently posh terrycloth robes with the hand-stitched coat of arms of the Torraca family over the heart.
Their time was coming to an end. Stefano hadn’t mentioned time passing in any way. He clearly wanted to pretend that they were in some endless now. But it was Sunday afternoon and she knew they would have to leave.
Much as she wanted to, they couldn’t stay here forever.
They’d had another amazing meal at lunch. They’d made love afterward and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. She’d woken up after an hour and slipped out of Stefano’s embrace. He’d fallen into a sleep so deep it seemed like a coma.
No wonder. She couldn’t count the number of times they’d made love. It was as if he were making up for lost time. And in a way, so was she.
Restless, but not wanting to leave the room, she’d pulled out her sketchpad and calmed immediately. Sketching always soothed her nerves, put her in a kind of alpha-wave zone where the cares of the world slipped away.
She sat down in an armchair facing Stefano and sketched bits of him. A powerful hairy thigh. A strong, tanned hand stretched out on the white piquet bedspread. Finally, as if these had been finger exercises, she settled down to the symphony and sketched the whole figure.
Her first impression had been correct. Naked, hair tousled, sprawled on his side and lost in sleep, he still looked like an emperor. Sleep couldn’t erase the lines of power and authority from his face but they could erase the lines of care. He looked younger than when she’d first seen him.
The vacation would end in only a few hours. If this could be called a vacation. It was more like two days clawed out of the face of a rock.
They’d eaten together, swum together, showered together, slept together, made love together. Stefano hadn’t once mentioned the future, or even a future where they would be together. It was as if the future tense had been banned from their vocabulary.
For all Jamie knew, once the helicopter came—first one for him, then another later for her—she would never see him again. For all she knew, these were their last hours together and he was sleeping them away.
That was fine.
Stefano obviously needed the extra sleep; he’d dropped like a stone after lunch. If she had to choose between making more memories with him or safeguarding his rest, his rest came first, hands down.
That was her first clue that she’d fallen for him. Fallen hard.
His rest, his comfort, his safety was of paramount importance to her. Even if they never saw each other again, she’d somehow find a way to keep tabs on him, know he was alive and safe. Maybe through her grandfather? She’d ask Gramps to contact that secret brotherhood made up of a globe-spanning network of lawyers and judges and law enforcement officers and keep her up to date on Stefano’s doings.
It was almost, though not quite, as if she were saying goodbye to him in her heart as her hands busily sketched him. It was one of her finer efforts, but then the subject was remarkable and the portrait was infused with her feelings for him.
At first she’d thought it was merely sex. The best she’d ever had, granted,
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