Turn Towards the Sun Book Two: After the Rain (5 page)

We get through the airport and walk to the rental-car area.

Enzo’s eyes twinkle. “I have a surprise, amore.”

“Another one?”

“Yes, I called ahead, so I know it’s here, waiting for you,” he replies, mysteriously.

Enzo walks to the counter and converses easily in his native language. I do love listening to him speak in Italian. Turning, he smiles and motions for me to come closer.

He gestures as we walk outside. “Here it is.”

A completely restored, classic Fiat Cinquecento sits before me.

A grin spreads across my face. “It’s perfect, tesoro.” I kiss his cheek, before running my hand along the smooth, white paint of the car.

He kisses me back. “I’m glad it pleases you.”

We get in, and I cuddle up to him on the way to our home for the next week.

“Shall I teach you how to drive this?” he asks.

“I don’t know, babe. I’ve never driven a stick before.”

“With what I know of your skill set, I believe you’ll pick it up just fine.”

I laugh. “I am a quick learner, sir.”

His luscious lips fall into a flat line. “I really don’t like it when you call me that, even playfully.”

I roll my eyes. It’s all about word choice with him. “I don’t know why it’s such a problem for you.”

“It just feels very formal. Besides, I can’t call you Miss Bradshaw anymore.” He sticks his bottom lip out in a pretend pout in an attempt at lightening the mood again.

“You can call me anything you like.”

“I like calling you amore, bella and also bellissima. Oh, and wife. I definitely like calling you my wife.”

I smile sweetly. “I like being called your wife. Are we going to be there soon?”

“Yes, are you tired?”

“Not at all,” I say. “I just want to get there so, after all this traveling, I can finally take advantage of my husband.”

“You can’t take advantage of a willing participant, signora.” He laughs and I melt at the sound of it.

Enzo drives up some extremely narrow streets, and I watch in shock and awe at how the cars bob and weave around one another. There are more cars then there is road. I find it intensely interesting, and just as scary, to participate in this vehicular dance of cars as we continue further into the town. Enzo navigates the drive effortlessly. It’s at times like this, when his Italian-ness is on display, that I fall under his spell all over again.

We continue driving until we reach a sweet little creamy stucco house, perched on a hill, overlooking a stunning view. It looks as though it could tumble down and fall into the sea at any moment, as does the entire town. I stand outside, enjoying the scenery, while Enzo collects our things.

He moves to stand behind me. “Do you like it here?”

“Of course, it’s breathtaking. The ocean looks like a deep turquoise jewel from up here.”

“We’ll go down there and eat near the beach. We’ll explore every part of this town.” He takes my hand and leads me to the house. “But now, we must start by exploring each other.”

I giggle. “Yes, andiamo.”

“Mmm, I love it when you speak Italian.”

“I’m in Italia. I should speak Italian, no?”

He throws his head back and laughs again. “I do believe Checca and I have corrupted you, because you sounded very Italian just then, my love.”

“If this is what corruption feels like, I like it.”

We walk into the house. I’m immediately struck by how simple it is. I would go so far as to call it quaint. It’s no luxury villa, but a small place, with terracotta tiles and creamy yellow, stucco walls. The white furniture looks lived in and comfortable. All around, windows look out onto spectacular views and a large door opens out onto an outdoor eating space.

“I wanted something simple – a place where we could relax and just enjoy each other,” my husband explains.

“I love it, Enzo. It’s sweet.”

He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “When I’m here with you in Italy, my stress goes and my worries retreat. It amazes me the effect you have on me.”

Laughing, I tell him, “It’s likely the effect of Italy, but I will accept that.”

Enzo turns me around. “No, Ava, it’s you. I’ve been to Italy a thousand times in the past decade, and although I love it here, I was never able to let go and really enjoy myself. Having you in my life changed everything.”

Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine, opening my mouth with his tongue. It’s a delicious feeling. I lean into his body, inhaling his masculine scent. As his hands slide down the length of my body, I have an instant desire to get naked with the man.

I break away momentarily. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Enzo doesn’t respond and simply nuzzles my neck, pushing me against the large, wooden dining-room table. The power of his kiss intensifies as he presses firmly against me. I move my hands down and stroke the erection begging to be released from his pants.

His breathy voice fills my ears, “I want you here.”

Unzipping my pants, he pushes and pulls at them in a frenzied passion. His hands find his way up inside my blouse to squeeze my breasts, eliciting a small murmur of pleasure from my lips. I yank his pants down, pushing them away with my feet as he kicks out of them. I want them off and him inside me.

I throw my head back and enjoy the sensation of my hardened nipples in his hot mouth. I tug my panties down, desperately wanting to feel him inside me. Enzo pulls me closer and gently spreads my legs. Grabbing his erection, I guide it towards me, moving my hips in an attempt to pull him in. He enters in one move, grinding slowly against my flesh. His eyes lock onto mine and I am his, completely. Enzo’s movements increase in speed and strength, our bodies undulating in fluid, seamless motions. We know each other in this way. We were made for each other.

“I am so happy because of you.” His words, so sweet and tender, wash over me like warm summer rain. I stroke his face in my hands as we continue to devour each other.

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, “anything.”

“I know.”

Enzo pulls me closer and pushes his length as deep into me as possible. Oh yeah, that’s the spot. I grind my body into him, searching for release. Holding my neck and back in his strong hands, he supports us both against the table. His entire body tenses and his eyes deepen in color. I can tell by the way the muscles in his chest and stomach tighten, and the way they undulate in my hands, that he is going to climax at any moment.

I move faster against him and feel my orgasm building deep inside. I reach down and rub my clit to help the process. These quick, intense moments of passion are just as awesome to me as our drawn-out lovemaking, and sometimes even better. It excites me to see how much he wants me all the time, and how important my pleasure is to him.

When I look up and catch his eyes, his stare penetrates me as deeply as his erection. I’m going to come any second now, so I grip his arms and push against him.

“Ah, Enzo, yes.” I brace myself against the table as ripples of pleasure roll over me.

The only sound he makes is a long, heavy sigh as he pumps into me. Afterwards, we lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

When he moves to release our tangled bodies, he laughs. “We made a mess,” he says.

“Worth it.” I smile and kiss him before he moves too far away.

“Always,” he agrees. “Shower?”

“Please.”

We gather our clothes and walk into the bedroom. I love it. A huge bed sits in the middle of the room, covered in crisp white linen and fluffy pillows. A huge window, almost stretching from floor to ceiling, looks out over the water. Enzo opens it to allow the fresh ocean breeze to drift through the room. Then he pulls me into the bathroom.

“We have a huge bathtub and a nice shower in here,” he tells me.

It is all white and couldn’t be more perfect for the house.

Starting the shower, he asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m getting there.”

“After we shower, we can drive into town and get some lunch. Then we’ll get some food for the house.”

“Perfect,” I agree, smiling.

“Yes, you are.” He grins.

I don’t say anything, but playfully roll my eyes at him. We shower quickly and dress in fresh clothes. It’s a quick drive back into town, but I realize that it will take some time for me to get used to those treacherous roads. Enzo is perfectly comfortable though, which soothes my nerves considerably.

I nudge his arm while he navigates the traffic. “Are Italians just born knowing how to drive like this or do you actually learn it?”

He laughs. “There may be a genetic component, but I’m sure you can pick it up. You’ve picked up everything else I’ve thrown at you.”

“We’ll see. I love being in Italy with you. It’s so… you.”

“It’s so me?” he asks, confused.

“Here I see this whole different side of you. You’re so relaxed and your Italian-ness really stands out. I love it.”

“I love you.” He kisses my hand, keeping his eyes locked firmly on me.

“Hey, keep your eyes on the road, mister!”

He grins. “It’s not necessary – they will watch for me.”

Sure enough, a car comes around the next bend and swerves gently to avoid hitting us.

“See?” He grins again before returning his eyes to the road. “There’s an area down here with shopping and restaurants, and a nice view of the city,” he tells me as we park.

“Have you been here many times before?”

“Only once, many years ago, with my family,” he says. “I always wanted to come back here, so this seemed like a nice time to do it since I won’t be working on this trip.”

“Can you go a whole week without doing any work?”

He sighs. “I certainly hope so. It’s my goal to give every ounce of my attention to my luscious wife.”

I grab his hand. “I’m a lucky woman.”

“It’s me who is the lucky one, but it pleases me that you feel that way about me.”

“I adore you.”

“Well, I adore you more.” He laughs, both of us aware of how silly we sound.

The weather is lovely, about seventy degrees, and while it is too cool for a beach day, it is nice enough to hang around outside. We walk into a beachside restaurant, sat at the end of a grassy courtyard and perched just above the water below. A sea breeze swirls through the room, bringing with it the salty smell of the ocean. It’s a small place with a beach theme. Sea shells and fishing nets line the walls, and the tabletops are tiled blue and white.

“This looks like a good place, no?” Enzo asks.

I nod. “Yes, it’s cute.”

We find an open table on the outdoor patio and take a seat. A waiter soon approaches us, carrying a handful of dirty plates he’s just picked up from the table next to us.

“Un momento, signore,” he says.

A menu board hangs in the corner, with the daily specials written in Italian.

“Shall I read the specials, amore?”

“Let me do it,” I say, with a wink. “We’ll see what I know.”

He smiles. “Good idea.”

I study the board for a moment, scanning for any familiar words I learned in Florence.

“Ah, linguine, that’s easy. Linguine con l’ar-ag-os-ta. L’aragosta?” I repeat, and then look up at Enzo. I’ve got the linguine down, but I don’t know what the other word is.

“Brava, Ava. Linguine with lobster.”

“Lobster, okay. Next, bruschetta con pomodoro. Pomodoro is tomato, right?”

“Right,” he says, grinning, “And now for the challenge.”

“Gnocchi alla Sorrentina.” I am positive I botched the pronunciation on that one.

“Okay, when you say the ‘gn’ together, you say it with no ‘g’ sound.” He repeats it. “Now you try.”

I push my lips into an ‘o’ sound, like he did. It sounds like ‘nyo-kee,’ but I do my best.

“Brava, amore. I do like it when you put your lips like that. It makes me want to suck them.” He flashes his smile at me.

I feel my cheeks blush. The waiter returns and hurriedly asks for our order.

“Tutti i piatti del giorno, per favore,” Enzo says.

The waiter nods. “Sì signore. Subito.”

“All the specials?” I ask.

“Sì.” Enzo replies.

“I don’t know if I’m that hungry,” I say.

“Then, we’ll just have some bites, no?” Enzo suggests.

“You were serious about fattening me up.”

“Yes, I do love your curves.”

I laugh. “Good thing ‘cause I do love to eat.”

The waiter returns with our food and we dig in. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but I essentially slept through the snack services on the plane, waking only for a short time to eat the light on-flight meal.

“It’s so good,” I say. “It’s as if it’s the first time I’ve really tasted a tomato or lobster. What are these gnocchi made of?”

“Potatoes and flour,” Enzo explains. “When they are made well, like these, they are light and fluffy.”