Run To Rome

“Well…yeah.”

“You’re no picnic, either.”

“I believe the correct terminology is egotistical jerk.”

Did she detect a hint of bruised ego under his smiling sarcasm? No. Of course not. Trent Tomlin wouldn’t care what she thought of him, though it wasn’t even true anymore.

The two of them walked together, enjoying the quiet, perfectly manicured gardens for a little while before she asked, “So how do you know Giovani and Concetta?”

“They’re George’s parents.”

“The non-Clooney George?”

“Yeah. Giovanni has tended these gardens since he was a teenager.”

Explained where Giovani had disappeared to. “Everything is just so beautiful.”

Rounding a corner of the walkway, Halli stopped short at the top of a long stone stairway, lit by sunlight. The view over the lake took her breath away and her hand rose to her heart. “Oh, wow.”

“Tell me about it.”

He’d descended the first step and she shifted her gaze to see he stared at her, not the view. Their gazes locked. Nothing but complete honesty glowed in his hazel eyes. Until a spark lit and flared. Suddenly, every argument she’d used to keep herself from kissing the man became the very reasons why she should.

He didn’t move and she knew the next step was up to her. Carpe diem. A term she was familiar with in theory, but not in practice. Her heart raced erratically. She shifted to the edge of the stair. Even with the added height of the step, he still had a good two inches on her. She lifted her arms to rest on his shoulders, linking her hands behind his head. He remained so still she’d swear he held his breath.

The entire world narrowed down to just the two of them as she leaned in until her lips hovered above his. “Thank you for this morning.”

“I’d say anytime, but—”

She pressed her mouth to his, cutting off the unwelcome reminder of their limited time.

Now that she’d made the first move, he slanted his mouth over hers, demanding entry with his tongue. Rough whiskers rasped against her skin, but she didn’t mind his dominance. Being wanted by this man was a heady sensation, one that no longer had anything to do with his international fame.

Trent’s fingers splayed across her back, strong and sure and warm. Hers twined in the soft thickness of his dark hair, urging him ever closer. He tasted of the coffee and sweet pastries they’d enjoyed for breakfast. She craved more as her tongue explored the smooth line of his teeth. Rising on her tiptoes, pressed against him from chest to hip, she sought to gain back some control. After all, it was her kiss.

But he pressed back, dueling with her; giving little, taking more. And when he blocked one of her advances and countered with his own, she felt his mouth curve into a grin. He was cocky even in the middle of a kiss. But it felt so good to give in. Live in the moment and enjoy what was right in front of her, without having planned things out to the last detail.

At some point, the dynamics changed. He eased his possession, delved deeper, laved slower until the sensual glide of his tongue against hers made it impossible not to imagine what he would feel like inside her.

Passion rose, robbing her of oxygen, leaving her lightheaded. Desire throbbed in her most sensitive places, all the more acute for the firm press of his growing arousal against her belly.

A soft, helpless sound of pleasure vibrated in her throat. Had his arms not supported her, her weakened knees would’ve betrayed her, leaving her in a melted puddle at his feet.

He answered with his own groan of raw need, burying his face against her neck. “God, Halli, we should’ve done this at the boat.”

She dragged air into her aching lungs, clearing the fog from her brain. She’d never experienced such a forceful, primal reaction to anyone. If they had kissed on the boat, she knew exactly where it would’ve led. Another notch on the bedpost for the playboy—in the easy conquest column, no less—and nothing but heartache for her.

One amazing memory to haunt her dreams for years to come.

In the ensuing silence, Trent wished he could take the words back. She hadn’t moved from his embrace. With her arms wrapped around his neck, every luscious curve still clung to him, heating him almost beyond endurance. Every chest-heaving breath she took sent fresh spikes of desire screaming through his veins. And yet, he sensed her withdrawal as if she’d physically stepped ten yards back.

The interlude was over. Reality returned with a huge dose of regret. Not for kissing her, but because they’d say goodbye and he wouldn’t get to do it again.

He ran his hands up the length of her back, over her shoulders, and along her arms as she eased her body away. Her lips were slightly swollen, red, and glistening. They begged for more, but he wasn’t so sure he could handle another kiss without spontaneously combusting, or taking her right here in the garden. He bit back a groan at that thought.

Down swept lashes hid her blue eyes, and color stained her cheeks. The contrast between her blushing shyness and that fiery kiss turned him on even more.

He dipped his chin, caught her eye, and summoned a teasing smile. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”