A couple of miles later we really began to climb; the asphalt disappeared and we were riding on compressed snow. I dropped the speed as the hairpin turns began to take us up the mountain.
Caro lost her relaxed posture and tried to sit up straight when I leaned into the bends. She was throwing off the balance and making the bike wobble. I pulled to the side of the road and flipped up my visor.
“Baby, you’re going to tip us over if you do that, and I don’t know about you, but it looks like a helluva long way down to me.”
“What … what did I do?” she asked, nervously staring at the vertical drop.
“You’re trying to sit upright on the bike: don’t. You’ve got to lean into it or the balance goes for shit. Don’t try and do anything, just sit real tight and hang onto me.”
She swallowed several times as her eyes tracked down the sheer mountainside.
“Okay, good safety tip. Glad you mentioned it.”
Her hands gripped my waist even more tightly as I drove off slowly, keeping the speed low, the bike zigzagging up the mountain. The views were stunning and I decided to stop at the highest pass, allowing Caro to enjoy the scenery.
I cut the engine and turned around to smile at her.
“It’s really something, isn’t it?”
She clambered from the bike awkwardly and tugged off her helmet, shaking her hair free.
“Wow,” she breathed.
I couldn’t agree more—but I wasn’t looking at the view.
While she was staring down to Geneva spread out below us, the lake mirror-like in the sun, the valley of Z-bends that we’d just driven up, the sky too blue to be real, I was looking at her. I felt grateful to be here: this woman, this time, this place. Second chances didn’t come any better.
“Thank you for this, Sebastian,” she breathed. “Thank you for bringing me.”
Thank you for giving me another chance, Caro.
She leaned into my body and I wrapped my arms around her, taking the time to appreciate her soft lips. She deepened our kiss immediately, her tongue moving possessively into my mouth—and I loved it.
Oo-rah.
When she pulled away, her face was flushed, and I was wondering if it was too cold for outdoor sex at the top of a mountain pass in the snow.
She must have guessed what I was thinking, because she said, “Save it, Marine. We’ve got a long way to go yet.”
I stood back while she snapped some photographs, then helped her climb onto the Honda. Moving slowly until the roads cleared, we started the steep descent down through the Alps to Italy. It was strange that I felt such a connection to a country I’d never been to before. Caro’s father was born near Salerno and I wanted to see his village. He’d been the only real parental figure I’d ever met until I was 14 and Ches’s family moved to San Diego. He’d been the one to start teaching me Italian, and it was from him I’d learned what a father should be. Taking this journey with Caro was the past crashing into the present. I wasn’t used to feeling so much.
A short while later, I pointed at a sign that read ‘Italia’, and then we were showing our passports to a border guard who was eyeing Caro with appreciation. Not that she noticed—she never did.
We were 20 Km from Genoa when the ocean came into view. It was a deep dark blue, calm with no waves, and white colonial-style villas followed the tree-line upward.
I took the shore road, passing dozens of concrete docks filled with yachts and expensive motor-cruisers as well as huge cargo vessels. Nothing military that I could see.
We drove through the city center, cruising past buildings that were hundreds of years old and what looked like a real castle on the top of the hill.
I stopped briefly to check the map. “Not far now,” I told Caro.
She gave me a quick thumbs up, and I headed up the mountain. Our route took us off the main drag, and we bumped up a steep and stony road. A sign next to a small, whitewashed villa welcomed us to ‘Casa Giovina’.
I pulled up, but let the engine idle.
“This is it. It only has one guest room, but it’s out of season … want to try it?”
When I’d planned this trip, I hadn’t expected to have company. The places I’d chosen to stay might be a bit basic for Caro’s taste. She was used to upscale hotels on her newspaper’s budget; she might not like my choices. I didn’t need the reminder that I didn’t know her so well anymore.
But then she smiled and I felt the tension ease from my shoulders.
“It looks charming. Let’s go see, but if the owners have a pretty daughter, we’re out of here.”
Was that a joke?
An old woman dressed in black opened the door.
“Posso aiutarvi?”
“I hope you can help us,” Caro replied, in Italian. “We were wondering if you had a room for the night?”
It was a good thing that I’d let Caro do the talking, because the old lady was eyeing me like she was afraid I was going to burglarize the place. I was pretty certain she wouldn’t have let me across the threshold if I’d been by myself.
“Are you married?” the old woman asked, folding her arms across a pair of enormous tits. I was afraid to look at them—I couldn’t help thinking that if they weren’t covered up, they’d be hanging by her ankles. I shuddered at the thought.
Caro was stuttering out a surprised answer when a man in his fifties hurried down the corridor.
“Mama! You can’t ask people questions like that! I apologize—my mother is very old-fashioned. Are you French?”
“No, American.”
“But you speak Italiano! Americans never speak our language.”
I decided he might respond better to a man, so I rolled out the Italian I knew, although it wasn’t as fluent as Caro’s.
“We mean no disrespect to your mother—this beautiful woman is my fiancée,” I lied, “but if your mother would feel more comfortable, I will happily sleep in a separate room.”
I already knew that they only had one guest room—as did Caro. I kept my expression neutral, waiting for his answer.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” said the owner, as his mother rolled her eyes to heaven and crossed herself twice. “Besides, we have only one room. Please, come in.”
The room was sparse, filled by a large old-fashioned bed, but the views out toward the ocean sold me on the room. Caro was smiling, which I guess meant she approved, too.
“The bathroom is across the hall, signore; it is to share.”
The owner shrugged in apology, but it didn’t bother me and Caro didn’t look fazed either.
“Breakfast is at 8am, signore, signorina. There is a ristorante just two kilometers up the road. It is very good—run by my brother.”
“That sounds great.”
We hadn’t stopped after our quick breakfast, and my stomach was growling.
“Ah, signore, one more thing: if you would refrain from riding your motorcycle after dark. My mother doesn’t sleep well, you understand, and she has the room next to yours.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Caro muttered, once he left. “I’m not getting on that thing again tonight if you pay me.”
“Feeling a little tender, Ms. Venzi,” I asked, pulling her toward me and rubbing my hands over her ass.
“Not really. It’s more the feeling that I’m still in motion.”
“I know something that will cure that,” I offered suggestively.
“Would that have anything to do with taking off our clothes and making mad, passionate love on that bed?” she asked, frowning at me.
Busted.
“It might have,” I admitted, eyeing her warily.
“Oh, alright then. I’ll try anything once.”
“Is that a yes?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t misheard.
“Yes, that’s a yes,” she stated, her eyes glittering. “But you’ll have to hurry—the ristorante probably closes before midnight.”
I glanced at my wristwatch, completely confused. �
�It’s only five o’clock?”
“Like I said—you’ll have to hurry.”
Okay, now I was on the same page. Damn! I liked the way she thought.
“Well, in that case, woman, you’re wearing too many clothes.”
“By the way,” she said, taking a step away from me, “your fiancée?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Hmm, well, I like my idea better—the one where we commit as many sins as possible in the shortest amount of time.”
And, to make her point, she unzipped my jacket and ran her hands down my chest, before tracing a finger around the waistband of my jeans.
I was there. I was so there, and then some bastard knocked at the door. I yanked it open, ready to take the fucker’s head off, a murderous look on my face. It had the villa’s owner taking a couple of steps back.
“Ah, mi scusi, signore, signorina,” he stuttered, throwing nervous glances in my direction. “I have just telephoned my brother: he is closing at 7:30pm tonight. If you wish to eat there, it would be best if you leave now.”
“Thanks,” I said, in a tone that telegraphed my extreme fucking displeasure.
Caro was trying to hide her wide smile—it wasn’t working. “Rain check?”
“Looks like,” I grumbled, adjusting the un-fucking-comfortable boner in my jeans.
“Never mind,” she smiled. “Come on, let’s get you fed and then I can have my wicked way with you.”
That got my attention, but did nothing to ease the tension in my pants.
“How wicked?”
“Not that wicked, so stop drooling. Just moderately naughty—it’s been a long day.”
I was pretty sure I could change her mind.
We climbed the steep road to the ristorante, and I kept her hand in mine the entire way. I wasn’t usually the kind of pussy-whipped guy who held hands, and believe me it’s not something you do a lot of in the Marines, unless you’re talking hand-to-hand combat. I wouldn’t mind doing some of that with Caro—I was looking forward to seeing her capitulate, naked, coming apart under me.
I was so preoccupied with my plans for later on in the evening that we arrived at the ristorante before I realized it. So much for my skills of observation—if I didn’t get it together before the flight to Afghanistan, I’d be a fucking health hazard.
I was surprised to see that this out-of-the-way place was almost full and a load of kids were running around. Happy families—not something I knew much about.
The noise tailed off when they saw us. I heard the word ‘Americani’ whispered several times before the owner came over.
I guess his brother hadn’t given him the heads-up, because he seemed stunned when we spoke Italian and that we were happy to eat whatever was available. I don’t know where he got his opinions of Americans, but after years of eating MREs, he could have served me road kill, and if it had good gravy, I’d eat it.
There was no chance of having a table to ourselves, so I resigned myself to having to share Caro for a few hours. The unfamiliar feeling of jealousy seemed to be hovering near the surface ever since she’d been parachuted back into my life. It was a fucking uncomfortable feeling and it was making me act like a possessive asshole—something that definitely wasn’t going to impress her. I needed to regroup, so maybe it was just as well that we were seated at the corner end of one of the long tables, wedged in next to a family of seven.
They were wary of us at first, but when I shrugged out of my leather jacket, a little girl of about five or six noticed my tattoo and asked her mom about the ‘picture’.
Her mother tried to hush her up, but I smiled and used my limited Italian to explain that the tattoo was because Marines were warriors of the sea and the ‘picture’ reminded me of my work.
“Is that because you forgot?” she asked, running her hands over the globe and anchor.
The whole room burst into laughter as I smiled wryly.
After that I guess I was her new best friend, because she kept up a stream of questions that meant I hardly got a chance to eat my meal, although I managed to chug down some of the local wine. Then she reached up to run her hands over my regulation buzz cut, but it was the look of longing and sadness in Caro’s eyes that caught my attention.
Ten years ago she’d wanted children, but somehow it had never happened for her. I had no idea why, because she was fucking beautiful. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get me thinking.
The meal finished with small bowls of honey ice cream, although Caro was such a lightweight, I finished most of hers, too.
“Having fun, baby?”
She smiled back at me.
“Do you realize this is our first dinner-date?”
No way. “What about back in San Diego—that Sicilian place?”
“That doesn’t count,” she laughed. “You wouldn’t let me finish because you wanted to drag me back to the hotel.”
“Oh yeah, I definitely remember that!” I grinned, eyeing her speculatively.
“Besides, your friend, Brenda, was spying on us. I’m half expecting to see her now, tossing her hair over her shoulder and thrusting her boobs in your face like she used to.”
I was amused by the jealousy I heard in her voice. If this was a two-way thing, I guess I didn’t have to feel so bad.
“She thrust her boobs in my face?”
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t notice,” she accused. “Anyway, if any boobs are to be thrust in your face, they’ll be mine. Right, Hunter?”
Yeah, she was definitely tanked.
“Anything you say, boss. Looking forward to it.”
“But then I was thinking,” she went on, “if this is our first date, I probably shouldn’t sleep with you. I don’t want you thinking I’m easy.”
Seriously? She thought she could win this game with me? Trained in strategy and tactics, baby. I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through the numbers.
“Who are you calling?” she asked, sounding pissed that I wasn’t following her script.
“Well, my date just told me she wouldn’t sleep with me, so I thought I’d see if I had Brenda’s number on speed dial.”
Caro winced, then sat back in her chair, her arms folded across her chest. Yep, I loved it when she did that—it pushed up her tits like she was serving them on a plate … or maybe an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“Fine, fine. I’ll sleep with you,” she pretended to huff. “But if my reputation is in ruins, it’s all your fault.”
I winked at her, then stood up to pay the bill.
As we left the ristorante, a chorus of good wishes followed us and the little girl blew me kisses, deciding that she was naming me ‘Angelo’—because I was blond, I guess.
I wasn’t feeling angelic—although I had something in mind that would have Caro calling me ‘God’. I pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, slow and possessive, gripping her waist with one hand, pressing the other over her mound.
I knew she could feel my rock hard dick against her hip, and I was seriously considering taking her there and then, but the ristorante started emptying and suddenly we had an audience.
Trying to catch my breath, I let Caro push gently on my shoulders.
“Should we try and make it back to our room this time?” she asked, her voice husky.
“Good idea,” I muttered. “I don’t think I could take a third interruption in one evening.”
The moon lit our path as we headed back down the hill. Caro didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, but energy and desire was making me want to grab her caveman-style and run the rest of the way so I could fuck her senseless. The Marines teach you to target your objective and put a plan together that will achieve it with the least amount of effort or risk. Just sayin’.
When we got back to Casa Giovina, the villa was in near darkness. A small lamp glowed in the hallway, and Caro crept up the stairs as if she was afraid of being caught. It was pretty damn fu
nny.
She grabbed her toiletry bag and ran into the bathroom, so I stripped off my shirt and kicked off the boots and socks. When she hurried back in, I have to admit I enjoyed the open look of desire on her face.
“Seems like your eyeballs are the ones in danger of falling out, Ms. Venzi,” I couldn’t help teasing her.
“That is true, so hurry up and get your ass back in my bed.”
Fuckin’ A!
“Yes, boss!”
I almost sprinted into the bathroom, tried my best to piss through a semi, forcing myself to concentrate so I didn’t spray the floor. Then I brushed my teeth and strode back into the bedroom, a man on a mission.
Caro was sitting in the bed, the sheet pulled up tightly across her chest, an odd expression on her face. Women usually liked the jeans and bare chest look, so I was kind of irritated that she seemed as though she was trying not to laugh.
“What?” I snapped.
“Nothing,” she said, snorting back a giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
She shook her head, holding a hand over her mouth, but her laughter had left my dick as soft as Jello. Jee-zus, what did a guy have to do to get laid?
I stripped out of the rest of my clothes, yanked the sheets back and started to slide over to her, but the bed creaked so loudly, it sounded like a round from an M-16 cracking over my head. I couldn’t help flinching and Caro laughed out loud.
“Sorry! I think we got the you’re-not-married-so-you-damn-well-won’t-be-getting-any bed. It’s got a built-in anti-screwing alarm.”
Okay, so it was pretty funny, but I had the target in my sights, and it would take a tank running over the villa to divert my attention right now.
“You think a noisy bed is going to stop me?”
Caro looked taken aback.
“The old lady is right next door! She doesn’t sleep well—remember?”
“I can’t help that. Besides, it’ll bring back happy memories for her.”
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