Tempest is wearing one of her long bohemian-style dresses, lavender and beautiful against her skin, delicate pendants fighting for attention. Her long brown hair is wavy from the braid she released it from. The only casual thing about her is that, like many New Yorkers used to walking long distances, she’s wearing bright white sneakers. Both ankles sparkle with jewelry. Fingers, too. Only one bracelet, charms dangling as she motions with her story.
I grip the handlebars, rev the engine, and she looks over, lips parted upon recognition of me. You have to press a button to exit the villa, and Joan hits it for everyone, calling over to me, “Tempest says you’re the smart guy!”
Shaun grumbles as he heads for one of the cars, “Don’t know why you’d want a scooter. Have you seen how these people drive?”
A woman around his age, agrees, “I came here to relax,” following him.
Joan sidles up to me. “How long did it take you to rent this?”
“Fifteen minutes?”
She turns to a British woman I learned is named Meredith. “Is this something you’d be interested in?”
I’ve been to London many times, modeling for Fashion Week, so I recognize the accent as she asks, “Are you kidding? Yes!”
Tempest is staring at me, silent, while others head for the cars. She must’ve told them, that’s what she was gesturing about on the way out here.
“Ready, Ms. Tuck?”
She smiles, but glances to Joan’s question: “How far is it away to rent one?”
“The walk was about ten minutes.”
Joan turns to Tempest. “Is there a reservation for lunch?”
“No. From what I researched about Marina Grande, there are several restaurants to choose from right on the beach. I thought we’d feel it out, and if people wanted different things, they could!”
Joan asks with hope in her eyes, “Meredith?”
The Londonite smiles, “Could do!”
Tempest offers them, “Why don’t you have the car drop you off at the rental place?”
I agree, “They’ll know where it is.”
Joan explodes, “Great idea!” heading for the cars and waving for Meredith to join her.
Tempest walks up to me, looking shy. “Guess that leaves us.”
Unhooking the extra helmet, I feel my cock start to pulse, “Guess so. Hope this fits.” She’s about to touch me for the first time. My carrying her to bed doesn’t count. That was different. She’s awake this time. And I’m finally aware that I want her.
As the cars pull away from the curb, Tempest checks out her helmet, frowning at the strap. “How does this work?”
“Put it on. I’ll help you. Fit okay?”
She tugs at it, wiggles her mouth. “Yes.”
“Good. Here.” I pull the strap through both rings, weave it back again through one, and snap it in place. “How does that feel?”
“Like an alien with a huge head.”
“You look beautiful.” My smile fades with hers, and I grab the handlebars. “Climb on.”
Tempest touches me as if it’s not right to, grip tentative as she throws a leg over and mumbles, “Shouldn’t have worn a dress,” gathering it modestly, and adjusting her weight, sneakers finding the pedals with difficulty. “Oh!”
I reach behind me and clasp her thighs, “You’re doing great,” holding on a second longer than I should before I grip the handlebars and clear my throat. “Put your arms around me.”
She hesitates, and slides her arms around my waist, fingers sliding over my abs, but barely touching.
I hit the gas hard and make her tighten her grip, “Josh!”
“It’s okay to touch me. I won’t bite. Yet.”
She hits my stomach, “Very funny.”
Oh, I wasn’t joking.
Chapter 21
I knew from watching him in my classes that Josh’s body was chiseled, but to feel the hard curves of his abs with only cotton between us, is a heightened experience.
I’d been afraid I wasn’t interested in sex anymore. That, I know now, is not the case.
With Josh’s hoodie separating my abdomen from his lower back, I press myself closer, tighten my thighs against his, even though he’s not going fast anymore. My heart is. “Isn’t this amazing?” I yell over the wind.
His voice is deep and quieter as he calls back, “It’s incredible.”
I quiet mine. “Was I being too loud?”
“I can hear you. And I’m listening.”
What does that mean?
Does he know it’s women’s catnip?
The ride into the city is magical. We pass homes that have stood here for centuries. The history of each, what must have happened inside, plays with my imagination as I hold tight to Josh around winding streets that felt no need for a grid.
“How do you know the way?” I call up.
He answers like men do, “Map,” needing no more than one word to explain all.
Since we’re in the South of Italy I shouldn’t have been surprised to see palm trees, but they’re here, bright green leaves reaching for a clear blue sky that shows no sign of storm. As we pass a school, I point at it, and he nods. Is he thinking what I am, that children were so lucky to have grown up in a place this serenely beautiful?
Even though the warmth of Josh’s body surpasses the beating sunlight, I follow my primal instincts and press closer to him, feel the rise of his back on an inhale that makes me loosen and scoot away. “Sorry.”
“Why?”
“I was…too close.”
“No,” he grunts, head turning slightly to add, “You weren’t.”
Nervously I ask, “You sure?”
“I want you to hold on so I can drive better. It uh, helps me balance.”
Scooting up as he makes a slow turn at a round-about, I tighten my arms again, fingers spreading on abs that clench as I touch them. Is he recoiling? I can’t tell. “This okay?”
“It’s great.” He guns the throttle with no cars ahead to slow us down on a straight street, stone residences and bright green trees on both sides.
“I thought scooters only went slow!”
“Not the new ones.” He guns the gas more, skyrocketing my adrenaline. “Told you we could
