10. Chapter 10
Avery
Benson grabs two plates from the waiter, one with a layered pastry-type cake covered in fruit and one with a square of chocolate tiramisu that looks so good I want to cry.
Regular tiramisu is good, but this is chocolate on chocolate and sent straight from heaven.
I have my fork at the ready even before Benson places the tiramisu in front of me.
“Easy!” he says with a laugh as I dig in and stuff a bite into my mouth.
“I nearly lost a finger to your chocolate addiction just now.”
“Don’t be such a chocolate-hating baby,” I say through a mouthful of chocolate mascarpone. “Eat your own…what is that?”
“Torta Nuziale.”
“What is that in English?”
Laughing, he picks up a fork and takes a bite of his dessert. “It’s cake, Avery.”
“Can I try it?” I reach my fork over, but he nudges my arm away.
“With that chocolate-tainted thing? Absolutely not.” But then he gathers up another bite with his own fork and holds it toward me.
It seems we’re at the feeding each other stage of things, and my heart starts beating a samba in my chest. Suddenly all my knowledge and motor function when it comes to how to eat from a fork is gone, and as I lean forward to accept his offering, I’m so nervous that when someone shouts something nearby, it makes me jump and miss the fork, leaving a splat of cream on my cheek.
Super classy.
But Benson practically invented classy, something he reminds me when he picks up a napkin and wipes the cream away.
“Can’t take you anywhere,” he jokes. I know it’s a joke because this man has taken me everywhere .
I saw all of the best parts of Florence, things I wouldn’t have seen if I had stuck to my plan, and Benson chose to do that for me.
He gave up the chance to hang out with one of his best friends so he could give me an experience I will never forget.
I wish I had a way to thank him.
This time when he offers the bite of cake, it makes it into my mouth, and I smile as the tang of berries combines with the sweet pastry and cool cream. “That’s amazing!” I say with my mouth still full, though I am intelligent enough to cover my mouth with my hand as I do. I am a lady, after all.
“Way better than yours,” he agrees.
Seriously, what does this man have against chocolate? “You haven’t tried it!” I scoop up as much tiramisu as I can onto my fork and hold it in his direction. “Just one bite.”
He eyes it warily. “That is the biggest bite I have ever seen.”
“Are you six? It’s just chocolate. You’ll survive trying it one more time.”
“I’m not so convinced.” He shakes his head, blue eyes dancing with amusement as he grabs hold of my wrist before I can move the dessert closer. “What if I’m allergic?”
I hadn’t thought about that, and suddenly I’m worried I put him in danger by dragging him to that chocolate shop the other day. “Are you?”
He chuckles. “No. But I appreciate you being worried that I am.”
“You really won’t try it? Not even a little bit?”
He shifts my hand to my own mouth and lets go, shaking his head. “Not unless the outcome feels worth it.”
What in the world does that mean? Is he waiting for the right chocolate or something? But what could be better than chocolate tiramisu?
Sighing, I eat the massive bite of dessert and savor the flavor before swallowing and admitting defeat.
“I guess you can’t be perfect. I had such high hopes for…
” I trail off when I notice the way he’s staring at my mouth.
“What? Do I have something on my face again?” I swipe my tongue and taste chocolate, and I realize with horror I have mascarpone smeared across my upper lip.
I grab a napkin to make myself presentable again.
Benson stops me, taking hold of my wrist before I can reach my mouth. His gaze darkens, filling my stomach with a flock of birds, and I stop breathing as his expression heats. I can almost see a battle happening behind his eyes, and I wonder which part of him is going to lose.
I don’t have to wonder for long. He swears under his breath, and then he leans forward and covers my mouth with his, kissing the chocolate from my lips.
And this man is thorough .
Every thought flees my mind as he slides a hand behind my neck to pull me closer, his lips exploring mine until I can’t breathe.
When he pulls away, his tongue running across his lip, I feel like I might implode.
“So?” I breathe, as if the only thing that matters right now is his opinion of the tiniest bit of chocolate he just tasted.
He grins. “Worth it.” Then he’s back, mouth crashing into mine.
One hand in my hair, he uses the other to pull my chair flush against his without breaking from my mouth, and then he deepens the kiss, drawing a gasp out of me that gets swallowed up in the kiss.
This man kisses exactly how I thought he would—confidently, skillfully, deliciously —and I’m floating.
Italy has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life, but nothing in Florence compares to this right here.
Right now. I could get lost in this kiss and never make it out again, and I wouldn’t care.
When my hands roam from Benson’s chest and up into his hair, he shudders and breaks the kiss, keeping our foreheads pressed together. “You’re going to get me into trouble,” he murmurs and cups my cheek with his warm palm.
“You started it,” I murmur back. I’m trying to breathe again, but I don’t know if I’ll be the same after that.
Kissing Benson is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and learning that now…
Reality is already sinking in, leaving me with a hollow feeling in my chest. Tomorrow, all of this will be over.
“No,” Benson says, as if he can sense where my thoughts are going. He kisses me again, this time so softly that my heart throbs. “Dance with me,” he whispers against my mouth. “Don’t let this night end.”
I nod. I will do anything this man wants me to do. For however long he wants me to do it.
After we send Riccardo and Siena to the honeymoon suite with cheers and tossed flower petals, we wander the streets of Florence hand in hand as the sky turns from inky black to a soft blue.
We’re both quiet, simply enjoying the moment, and Benson drops me off at my hotel room door just before sunrise.
Neither of us speaks; I think we both got hit hard with the reality that our time is coming to an end, and talking would only make the morning come sooner.
I don’t reach for my key, instead leaning up on my toes and pressing my lips to Benson’s.
He guides me back a step until I’m flush against the door, and the kiss heats between us, hands and lips and bodies pressed together.
It’s sweet and desperate and full of longing all at the same time, and it hurts when Benson breaks the connection.
I’m not ready.
“What if you change your flight?” he whispers before touching a kiss to the soft skin below my ear. “Fly back with me this afternoon.” His lips move to my neck, beginning a trail down to my collar bone.
Shivering, I cling to his arms to keep myself from melting into a puddle. He has no idea how good that sounds and how much I don’t want to leave Italy at all. But at some point this has to end, and we both know it. I need to be responsible Avery again. “No,” I whisper.
His kisses pause, and he lifts his head to meet my gaze with heavy eyes. He doesn’t have to speak for me to hear his question.
Pressing my hand to his cheek, I search for the words I need. “This week has been the best week of my life, Benson. All thanks to you. But it’s going to be hard enough to leave as it is, and I think you were right all along. A clean break…”
His throat bobs, and he presses his hand over mine, curling his fingers around mine and pulling them to his lips. “You’re right. But I don’t want you to be right.”
I won’t suggest we try a long-distance relationship. I know him well enough to know he still isn’t the guy who will commit. No matter how much he likes me, he’s not going to try. He would have asked for my number or my last name or something if he thought this could go beyond today.
A tear slides down my cheek, and Benson brushes it away with his thumb. He shouldn’t have bothered; more will come. “Keep being brave, Avery Grace,” he murmurs and touches a soft kiss to my lips. “The world needs the woman you really are. Not the one you think you should be.”
And here come the real tears. “She never would have come back if not for you. I don’t… How can I thank…” I swallow as the emotions start to overwhelm me.
Benson pulls me into his arms, wrapping me up in a tight embrace that shuts out the world.
I cry into his chest, hating that I fell so hard so fast. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I wasn’t supposed to come on this trip, I wasn’t supposed to meet the perfect man, and I definitely wasn’t supposed to open my raw and vulnerable heart to him.
What do I do now?
“I should go,” he says, but he doesn’t make any effort to move.
Instead, he starts rubbing small circles on my back, his hand warm and soothing as the fingers of his other hand work their way into my hair.
It’s a testament to how perfect this man is.
Instead of telling me I shouldn’t be crying over a week-long fling, he’s simply letting me cry and offering silent comfort.
Nothing in the world is ever going to compare to this spot right here, held in his strong arms and surrounded by his warmth.
“You can do anything,” he murmurs as he finally pulls away.
He brushes the tears from my cheek, then steps back, his expression as mournful as I feel.
When he opens his mouth again, I hope he’ll say we should keep in touch, but he closes it again with a shake of his head, hands me my phone, and turns around, walking away without looking back.
As he rounds the corner, I stare at the place he disappears, feeling like my entire world has been shaken, leaving me unsteady and fragile.