chapter ONE #2
“I didn’t give up my honeymoon so you could wallow the entire trip.” Her head peeks up from the tub’s headrest, one eyebrow slanted up, her mouth in a lopsided smirk.
She’s a conniving one. In one breath she tells me not to worry about hijacking her honeymoon and in the next she’s guilting me over it. Nice to see she hasn’t lost her sense of humor.
I shake my head and grin. Leah catches my laugh and points it out. “You’re getting some action this week, lady. It’s your debt to me. If you don’t pick him, I will.”
I turn around from my stance at the closet, placing my hands on my hips. “Why are you so hell-bent on getting me laid?”
“Because it pisses me off the last guy in your pants was that jerk Parker. He’s an asshole, he fucked with your head, and it’s been six months since you’ve been with anyone else.”
I can’t argue with her there. Six months ago I thought I was in love with Parker Ryles. We met at Carnegie Mellon, where he was studying the flute, and I was on the violin. He was smart and sweet and made that instrument look super sexy.
After four years of dating, I was practically picking out bridesmaid dresses.
That is, until he dumped me because he wasn’t ready to settle down.
That would have been fine and dandy if we hadn’t started having “the talk.” You know, the one where you discuss how many children you want and where you’ll live.
We were on the same page, or at least I thought we were.
Now I know there is no way I could have married someone so selfish.
My life has been destroyed, and I blame him every day for what happened.
At least it’s easier to blame him than myself.
And right now, I’d really like to tell him what he could do with that flute.
For some reason Leah feels it’s imperative that I meet someone new. As if going out on a date is going to make the pain go away. Well, it’s not. I’m broken and loving someone or something is just not worth it because when you lose it . . . when you lose them . . . the pain is too much to bear.
Leah rises from the tub and stalks over to her suitcase. “Let’s put on our sexiest outfits and hit this town.”
I let out a stretch, arching my fingertips toward the ceiling. “Can we sleep first? I am jet-lagged and still on Ohio time.”
Unzipping her bag, Leah moves some clothes around and talks over her shoulder. “No prob. I heard Italians like to eat really late anyway. You doze for a few. I’m too wired to sleep.”
Leah pulls the largest pair of binoculars I’ve ever seen out of her suitcase and holds them up to her face.
“What the hell are those?” They look like they belong to the CIA.
“They’re Adam’s. He uses them for surveillance. I borrowed them for our trip.” She walks over to the glass that serves as the main entrance into our suite. Opening the door, Leah steps out onto the veranda facing the marina and the view we were admiring earlier.
“Those things are huge. There’s no way you’re carrying them around. And if you lose them, I don’t care how much Adam loves you. He’ll flip.”
I walk over to the bed and fall into it. My body sinks into the duvet, and I actually sigh, it feels so good. My eyes are just about to set into sleepyland when Leah lets out a loud gasp.
I prop open an eye.
“Ems, Ems—come here, you have to see this.” She’s still on the veranda, her hand flapping at a million miles a second. Her eyes glued to the binoculars.
I let out a grunt and fall further into the pillow.
“Emma!” She shrieks. It’s a hurry-up shriek, not an I’m-being-kidnapped shriek.
Unwillingly and very tiredly, I roll off the bed and pad over to where she’s standing. When I reach her side, she hands the binoculars over to me and positions my body and the binoculars in the direction she was gawking. I lift the binoculars to my face and look out on the marina.
“What am I looking at?” I ask.
“The boat. Do you see the boat?”
“I see, like, a million boats.” I reply.
“The ginormous boat, Ems. It’s huge. You can’t miss.”
I pan the area where she’s positioned me to look.
Sailboat, sailboat, sailboat, smaller vessel, smaller vessel, motorboat, hydrofoil .
. . Ahh, I see it. Ginormous isn’t even the word.
It’s twice the size of the ferry we took from Naples this morning.
It’s impressive, I’ll give her that, but so not worth getting out of bed for.
I hand the binoculars back to Leah. “It’s very nice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some sleep to catch up on.”
Leah pushes the binoculars back to my chest.
“Look at the upper deck, spaz.”
With an eye roll, I take the binoculars back. There’s the boat again. I see windows. I see a double staircase off the back of the boat. I see a seating area. I see . . . oh. Oh, have mercy.
I see a man. Not just any man. I see a naked man. Naked in all his glory.
Yup, I’m awake now.
These binoculars are really powerful—from the incredible distance we are from the yacht, I can see the clear definition of his ass.
It’s a good ass.
It’s a gladiator ass.
And that’s not all. His back is rumbling with muscle, cascading with each movement of his incredible body.
Sweet Jesus, hallelujah.
I can’t see his face because his back is to us as he is pounding into a woman.
Maybe pounding isn’t the word. Grinding, thrusting, plunging—take your pick.
I can’t see her at all because his masculine frame is blocking my view.
All I can see of her is two legs wrapped around his lean torso.
With each thrust, his gluts flex in and the lats muscles on his back pump out.
These two are having sex. And it’s the really dirty kind.
A pool of heat settles between my legs. The nerve endings in my chest spark alive and my cheeks flush with heat.
It’s like the first time I watched soft porn.
My friends wanted to see what it was about so they turned on Cinemax, and we sat there in silence pretending we weren’t being affected.
The truth was, I was sitting there with a throbbing between my legs and the very strong desire to do something about it.
I have that exact feeling right now.
“My turn.” Leah says, grabbing the binoculars from my face.
I breathe out through my puckered lips. That was hot. Really hot.
And really sick of us to watch.
“Leah, there has to be some law against you watching them have sex. Aren’t there, like, stalker laws?” I ask.
“They’re having sex in the open. If we were home, they’d be the ones getting arrested.” She licks her lips and bites down on her lower lip. “I love Italy already.”
Shaking my head, I walk back over to the bed and try to fall asleep.
My mind racing with visions of naked men, it’s not as easy for me to fall into sleepy land as it was before.