New Title 1 (36 page)

I sighed, happily. “Mmm, if I have to.
But to tell you the truth, I’d be quite happy staying here all day, if someone brought us food. And condoms.”

Sebastian kissed me quickly on my chest, then kicked the sheets back,
the cooler air making me flinch.

“Hey!” I complained.

“Up,” he said, as he stood over me.

Then he leaned down and fa
stened his teeth over my nipple, tugging gently.

“You cheat,” I grumbled, staggering the short distance from the bed to the shower.

He swatted my ass, which I felt was unnecessary: he’d already made his point.

The water wasn
’t hot, which didn’t encourage us to linger, and I stood in the bedroom, shivering slightly as I dressed.

“It doesn
’t take you long to get ready, does it, Caro. You never even bother to put on makeup.”

Sebastian was sitting on the bed
, smiling at me as he buckled up his boots.

I was slightly taken aback by his remark. Did that mean
that he wanted me to wear makeup – that he thought I should?

“
I do sometimes,” I replied, trying not to sound aggrieved, “if I’m going out somewhere dressy. But not usually, no. Why?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just saying. It drives me crazy when women spend hours getting ready to go out.”

I felt relieved – and annoyed at myself for feeling relieved. I was a modern woman who didn’t need a man’s approval on how I dressed. Except, maybe… yes, damn it! I wanted Sebastian’s approval on how I dressed. I craved the way he looked at me, like he’d never seen anything so precious. Maybe I ought to make a little more effort. Just for the next few days: give him the best memories I could, before we were parted.

I vowed to buy some lipstick and mascara in the next pharmacy or supermarket we found.

“You remember that time we went clothes shopping in San Diego?” he said, pulling me out of my self-flagellating thoughts. “You had to buy a new dress?”

“Oh, sure, I remember that! The sales assistant was flirting with you?”

He looked surprised. “She was?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don
’t you remember, she was asking you if you were a pilot from Miramar?”

Sebastian shook his head, amused and puzzled at the same time.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” I said, smiling to myself, “in those days you never used to notice other women flirting with you: you were such an innocent. Not like now.”

“
Hell, you should complain, Caro! You were the one I lost my innocence to – a hot, older woman.”

I slapped his arm. “You know what I mean.
”

His look of amusement faded and he caught my
hand, pulling me down, until I was sitting across his knee.

“Caro, you
’re all I want. You don’t have to worry about other women. Yeah, so I fucked around a lot, but you know what? It was just a game – I was using them, they were using me. It gets pretty old after a while.” He paused to tuck my hair behind my ear and kiss my throat. “But I might have to hunt down those old boyfriends of yours and beat them to a pulp.”

I laughed. “Double standard
s, Sebastian?”

“Nope, just two sets of rules… but I was thinking about the cute, black dress you bought. You looked so fucking hot in that.”

“I’ve still got it somewhere, although I haven’t worn it in years.”

“
We should do that, Caro; go out somewhere you can dress up.”

I sighed. “I used to fantasize about seeing you in a tux.”

“Really?”

“Sebastian, I spent far too many hours fantasizing about you in a variety of,
um, situations. And just recently, it’s become my new hobby.”

He laughed, delightedly.
“I’ve never worn a tux.”

“Never? Not even at your high school
prom?”

“I didn
’t go. I hadn’t met you, and I’d split up with Brenda. Ches didn’t have a date either – he swiped some of Mitch’s beer, I scored some weed – and we got trashed on the beach instead. It was a pretty good night – I think. I don’t remember that much about it. We didn’t need any women,” he said, looking at me with a sly expression. “But that was before I met you again.”

“Hmm, very virtuous of you. But didn
’t you wear a tux for Ches and Amy’s wedding?”

“Nah, Amy kind of got off on the whole military thing, even though she didn
’t want Ches enlisting, so she asked me and Mitch to come in our Dress Blues. I don’t know, I think she thought it would look cool in the wedding pictures.”

He rolled his eyes.

“She turned into a complete nightmare-bitch-from-hell over the whole wedding thing. Ches was freaking out, thinking he was about to marry some crazy person. She even tried to ban him from having a bachelor party,” he said, indignantly.

“Gee, I wonder why… maybe she didn
’t trust
you
,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

He grinned at me
, wickedly.

“
Yeah, well, she was probably right about that…”

“I don
’t want to know, Sebastian!”

He kissed me again. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Going somewhere upscale, really dressing up? I
’d love to see you like that again.”

“Well, ok
ay. Let’s do that when you get back from this tour. Then we can really celebrate.”

“Let
’s do it
now
,” he said, decisively. “There must be some place in Salerno you can get women’s stuff.”

“Stuff?!”

“Yeah, silky dress, stockings, high heels… stuff. And then I could undress you – slowly.”

His eyes heated at the thought
, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Ok
ay, I’ll do it if you do – dress up.”

He laughed. “Sure,
if I can find somewhere that will rent me a tux, why not? It’ll make a change from being in uniform.”

Then he kissed me quickly, scooped me off his lap and set me back on the floor.

“We’d better get going. Got me a date planned with a really hot woman.”

Instead of traveling along the pretty coast road, Sebastian headed inland for the Autostrada del Sole, the highway that ran from Milan to Naples. It was terrifyingly busy, with huge trucks roaring too close to us, but the route was designed to get us to Salerno in the least amount of time. I clung on and gritted my teeth.

We stopped briefly
just outside of Rome, at a café on the highway where they produced fresh pasta to restaurant standards, then carried on south, past Naples and on to our final destination.

Sebastian finally pulled up at the curb when we ran out of road. Behind us, the small town of Salerno clung to the cliffs, the buildings square and wh
ite with terracotta roofs, and glistening below them, the Mediterranean was azure in the afternoon sunshine.

He pulled off his helmet
and stretched out his back before climbing off. I felt as if the bike was still in motion, and my ass had been molded into the shape of the saddle.

Sebastian grinned at me, then helped me take off
my helmet. It was as if I’d been underwater and I could finally hear properly again.

“You alright, baby?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “How are you?”

“Yeah, good. Look, I think it might be easier to find a pensione or hotel in Salerno than in your dad
’s village. We’re only a couple of miles away so we could easily shoot on over there in the morning. What do you think?”

“Anything that doesn
’t involve getting back on your bike sounds good, Sebastian,” I grimaced. “My ass is numb already.n gr

He pulled me into a hug
, and rubbed his hands over the portion in question.

“Better, baby?”

“Mmm, much.”

He kissed me lightly. “Come on then, let
’s walk for a while. We’ll find a room – and a pharmacy.”

“Good to see you
’ve got your priorities in order, Sebastian.”

“Trained by the Marines, baby, what can I say?”

We strolled through the sunlit streets, listening to the rumble of local traffic, which seemed to consist of crazy drivers in beaten up cars, and teenagers on scooters buzzing around. Everywhere, people chatted, gossiped, talked, yelled and waved their hands in the air, animated conversations surrounding us. It reminded me of Papa when he got excited, and I could imagine him as a child running down the hill from the village, and climbing back in the evening, dusty, tired and happy.

Sebastian slung his arm around my shoulders with casual possession, and I let my fingers creep around his waist.

It was too warm to wear the leather biker jackets for long, so we found a small pavement café and gratefully sat, relaxing in the sun.

“I could really use a beer,” said Sebastian.

I wasn’t sure if he was just commenting or asking my permission. Either way, I had something else in mind.

“This is the home of limoncello, Sebastian, the real thing – made with Sorrento lemons. I think we should try
some.”

“Yeah!” he said, enthusiastically. “You used to make those amazing ones when I was a kid.” He frowned, and I knew what he was thinking – he didn
’t like to be reminded of our age difference either.

I shrugged. “Sure, but these are alcoholic.” I glanced at him sideways and smiled. “We could order them with a pitcher of water, too.”

“Sounds good,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

The
young waiter slouched over, seemingly unconcerned as to whether or not he would serve us. But when I spoke to him in Italian, he seemed to cheer up slightly, his demeanor a fraction less surly.

“And would you know of anywhere we could rent a room for a couple of nights – nothing too expensive?”
I asked, with a smile.

“My uncle might,” he acknowledged, surprising me with a friendly grin. “I
’ll go and ask him.”