Chapter 31
31
As Andrea and I stroll through the gardens, it’s clear that we’re among the last guests to retire for the night. Slowly guests left, a few at a time, but not us. I’m pretty sure we were the last two on the dance floor, that’s for sure.
Members of the wedding party and their family members are all booked into these chic guest lodges that line the gardens here at the wedding venue. With everyone thinking that Andrea and I are engaged, it’s no surprise that we’re sharing a room. And yep, you called it, of course there is only one bed – and that’s where we’re heading now, after spending the day having fun together, and the last few hours quite literally joined at the hip on the dance floor.
Walking through the garden at night feels like strolling through a dream. The air is cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of a mixture of all the flowers that are growing here. There isn’t much in the way of lighting, now that most of the lodges have their lights off for the night, so we have little more than the moon to light our way. It’s one hell of a bright one tonight, thankfully.
As we walk, the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets is about all you can hear now. The cool breeze feels so good on my skin – it’s warm work, dancing all night, especially when Andrea is the one you’re dancing with. Plus, after his nonna went to bed, then his parents, and then when it was finally just the young ones left on the dance floor, honestly, our dancing started to get raunchier and raunchier, until the DJ announced that the party was over. That soon pulled us apart, and gave us a bit of a reality check, I think.
‘So, are Italians just good at everything?’ I ask, nudging Andrea playfully as I break the silence. ‘You cook, you dance, you sing. You’re just perfect, really, aren’t you?’
Andrea laughs.
‘ Dove sei stato tutta la mia vita? ’ he replies, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Obviously, I have no idea what that means.
‘See, I don’t know what you just said, but somehow I just know that it’s nice,’ I tell him.
‘Well, you’ll never know unless you learn the language,’ Andrea teases.
‘How do you say “I love you”?’ I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it. I’m just wondering out loud but, now that I think about it, it might seem a bit weird.
‘ Ti amo ,’ Andrea replies simply.
‘Wow, that sounds beautiful,’ I say.
‘It sounds even better when the right person says it,’ he tells me.
As Andrea unlocks the door to our garden room, I shift anxiously on the spot.
The fact that there is only one bed to sleep in aside, it’s a really nice space.
The decor is inviting, with muted tones of cream and pastel green and yellow shades, and the main pops of colour coming from the floral theme that runs throughout. It’s nice – a beautiful nod to the flowery garden outside – as opposed to the intense way the pattern dominated my grandparents’ bedroom in the nineties.
A large bed sits in the heart of the room but, otherwise, furniture is minimal. The bed is definitely the focal point, the main event, to the point where I’m starting to feel like it’s trying to pressure me into letting my hair, my guard and potentially my mother down.
There is only one other door in the room, that leads through to a small bathroom, and that’s pretty much it. Just me, Andrea and a bed – after what has felt like hours and hours of foreplay.
I need to stop thinking about that.
‘Maybe I’ll learn to speak the language one day,’ I say. ‘When I can be trusted to talk without accidentally committing a crime. I’m never going to live that one down.’
‘That was just a misunderstanding,’ Andrea reassures me, his voice gentle as he removes his tie and places his jacket to the side. ‘I think you would pick it up in no time.’
‘Everything just sounds so beautiful,’ I reply. ‘I guess, to you, it all just sounds normal. To me, though, everything sounds so sexy. I imagine, if you flirted in Italian, it would be over for whoever you were flirting with. Who could resist?’
Andrea laughs softly at my words.
‘Yeah, here, we’re all speaking the same language, it’s not special,’ he replies. ‘I think it might only work on English girls.’
I laugh. I can’t imagine Andrea having any trouble pulling girls in any language.
The urge to test the theory is too hard to resist.
‘Okay, go on then, try me,’ I challenge him.
‘You want me to flirt with you?’ he asks, amusement in his voice.
‘Yep, come on,’ I reply, not only challenging him; I’m practically egging him on with a mischievous glint in my eye. ‘I want to experience the best you’ve got to offer.’
I say this in a tone of voice that suggests I’m doubting he is even capable of such a thing, which, come on, couldn’t possibly be true.
As Andrea approaches me, undoing a couple of buttons on his shirt, I feel my heart banging the war drum in my chest. Oh, for fuck’s sake, he hasn’t even opened his mouth yet and already it’s working. I can quite literally feel my knees weakening, causing me to shift my feet on the spot to keep my balance.
I’ve had such a great time with Andrea today. Laughing with him, eating with him, dancing with him. Obviously, I find him attractive – I’m only human – and I’ve been having such a good time with him pretty much since the day we met. But I don’t know, something changed last night, and today, well, today has been perfect. The sparks are there, without a doubt, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about them. Does Andrea feel them too, or is he just having a good time pretending to be a couple with me? Maybe that’s part of the deal for me too, but I’m starting to think I might really have feelings for him.
Andrea stands in front of me and tucks my hair behind my ear on one side.
‘ Non riesco a smettere di pensare a te ,’ he says to me in a soft, quiet voice. ‘ Penso che mi sto innamorando di te .’
Somehow my heart beats faster.
‘Is it weird that it’s even sexier because I don’t know what any of it means?’ I dare to admit. ‘You could be saying anything to me right now.’
‘ Ti desidero così tanto ,’ he replies, and I don’t even know why, but it drives me crazy.
I place my hands on Andrea’s chest, lightly at first, before running them down his body, feeling his muscles through the thin material of his shirt. By the time I get to his buttons, my fingers linger over them.
‘Maybe I need to hear it in English after all,’ I tell him – speaking to his buttons, rather than his face.
Am I being crazy? Does he want me? I feel like he does but I don’t know, maybe he’s just being Italian.
Andrea places his hands on my shoulders, hooking his thumbs around the thin straps of my dress.
‘Robin, look in my eyes,’ he insists.
I think I might find it easier to look at the sun right now – well, I would were it not the early a.m.
Bravely, I look into his deep brown eyes.
‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?’ he asks.
Andrea leans in, placing his lips on mine, kissing me ever so gently.
He pulls back, after only a few seconds, and I swear my lips try to go with him.
‘I want you,’ he tells me – in English, and he couldn’t be clearer.
‘I want you too,’ I reply.
Andrea pulls the straps from my shoulders, allowing my dress to fall to the floor. He does it so gently that I hardly feel it happen.
Finally, I undo the buttons on his shirt, the ones my hands have been lingering around for what feels like forever.
Andrea shrugs it off before grabbing me by the bum, picking me up from the floor, and carrying me over to the bed.
He lies me on my back before kneeling in front of me, unbuckling his belt, then unbuttoning his trousers.
He runs a hand down my thigh before leaning in to kiss me, slowly and gently, just on the inside of my leg, only an inch or two above my knee, but it sends shockwaves through my body.
I know, I know, maybe this is a terrible idea, but I can’t resist him a moment longer.
For tonight, I just want to get lost in the moment, and tomorrow, well, I’ll worry about tomorrow tomorrow.