Method

“Yeah,” he mumbles, closing the container putting it back in the bag.

“I think I love it,” I say, “the Molokhia. Oh,” I exclaim grabbing the next container, “I bet this is Shawarma.” I read the label. “Yep, it is. This is like Egypt’s version of a Gyro. These are supposed to be fantastic.”

Lucas eyes me as he uncorks a bottle.

“And did you know wine was scarce here until the last twenty years?”

“Nope, didn’t know that either,” he says with a sigh. “Why is that?”

“Look around, not exactly the best place to grow vines.”

“Right,” he mutters, pouring me a glass.

“They brought some experts in to help the quality. I’m so excited to try it.”

He looks a little miffed as he hands it to me. “Then maybe you should try it.”

I sit up straighter and frown. “Did I say something wrong?”

His eyes dart away. I can see his aggravated expression clearly when he lies and responds with a, “No.”

“Hey,” I say leaning in. “What have I said?”

“Nothing, beauty,” he lifts his chin toward my glass. “Taste it.”

I take a sip and give him wide eyes. “Pretty good.”

His eyes glide over the shadowed peaks while more sarcasm laces his words. “And is that your expert opinion?”

“All right, dammit, that was uncalled for,” I snap. “Tell me, superstar, did you bring me out here and give me the world just to shit on it?”

His eyes snap to mine. He reads my face and curses under his breath. “No, shit, no. I’m sorry.”

“Then come out with it already. What happened in the last five minutes that made me the enemy?”

“You haven’t done anything.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Maybe we should head back to the hotel.”

He lets out a sigh and sits back on the blanket. In the next second, I’m back in his lap, and his head is again buried in the crook of my neck. He presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder before murmuring a low, “Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” I reply shifting in his lap to straddle him. “Now tell me why you’re acting like an ass.”

“Just…tired.”

“We can go back,” I offer running my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “You can get some decent sleep tonight.”

“No, I’m good here.”

“You sure?”

He nods.

Chest rattling with indecision, I move to give him space just as he cups my neck and brings me closer, so our foreheads touch.

“Mila,” he rasps out just before capturing my lips to assault me with a soul-stealing kiss. His tongue delves into every corner of my mouth before setting a languid pace. Breath stolen, I moan into his eager mouth as he erases the existence of time, the idea of space, and the need to measure either. There is nothing but us, our connection, our creation. Stunned when he pulls away my breath stutters against his lips and I realize we’re both shaking with the loss of gravity.

Pushing the hair away from my face with gentle hands, he searches my eyes and finds satisfaction somewhere inside them. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to believe me.”