CHAPTER ONE
Castello d’Amore, Tuscany
‘YES, TYLER. YES!’
I trap a groan as Dani’s lustful cry breaks through the stone walls. Again.
I mean, it’s her wedding week. The rustic and seriously lavish Tuscan castle in which I lie is her chosen venue, her dream escape, and I’m lucky enough to have come along for the ride, all expenses paid. And, as I’m maid of honour, my room is just as fabulous as the leading lady’s, my bed is just as huge and as luxurious and my veranda, with the views over the glorious Tuscan hillside, is heaven.
So the least I can do on day minus one of seven is cope with the all-night romping next door. Only...
I roll over and look to the open balcony doors, the light drapes that blow in the breeze and the soothing view beyond. All cast in moonlight, it’s just as beautiful as it was this morning when we arrived, high on in-flight bubbles and Dani’s excitement.
No, I shouldn’t be blue. I should be happy, buoyed up on her excitement and the seven days of fun ahead.
But then I zone in on the untouched pillow beside me and the deep ache inside resonates. I finger its softness, press my palm into it where Bobby’s head would have been and feel torn between longing and loss.
I long to have the good back—the sex, the passion, the companionship. Hell, I want to be the person I was before our marriage became stale, before I started sleepwalking my way through life on some kind of autopilot.
‘Yes, Tyler! Yes, just there, just... Oh, yes!’
I want that.
Not even Bobby and I quite reached those heights.
It’s been a year since our divorce, two since our separation, and nothing, not even a sexy encounter in a club, has resulted in anything more.
Truth is, I don’t want a drunken fumble with nobody special, an awkward date that leads to an even more awkward goodbye, and I sure as hell don’t want to deliver a fake orgasm in order to protect a guy’s ego. I left all that nonsense behind in my teens. But I really don’t want to be here either: twenty-eight, divorced and very much single.
Not to mention horny.
Such a great combo when you’re situated next door to at-it-like-rabbits.
‘Fuck, Dani, you’re the best, just like...argh!’
It’s as if they’re doing it on cue now... I fist my hand in the vacant pillow and drag it over my head, wrap it around my ears and scream into it.
There. Can’t hear them now.
Only, my mind is replaying Tyler’s gruff exclamation, Dani’s reciprocal moan, and my skin is prickling up, my nipples tightening against the delicate fabric of my silk cami. Their unashamed lovemaking, a tease to my neglected body. And I know there’s no faking it for Dani; she’s told me far too often and in far too much detail.
They’re great in and out of the bedroom and have known each other since she was in nappies. Tyler would have been... I do the maths, my trail of thought proving a good distraction from the squeaking bed springs next door...seventeen. He would have been seventeen-ish. And, yeah, put like that, it’s a bit ick. But he’s best friends with her seriously older brother and it took a full-on seduction by Dani to get him to succumb.
Now I smile, my head shaking as I ease the pillow off my face and remember the lengths Dani went to. Gotta give my bestie credit; she knows how to get what she wants. They’ve been inseparable ever since.
They would have married two years ago if not for her big brother’s misgivings. ‘Misgivings’ being an understatement. Tyler sported a black eye for weeks following that revelation.