Three weeks. Three long, painful weeks, and I hadn’t heard so much as a whisper from Scott. While I’d been in his presence, I’d indulged in merciful hours of reprieve from the crushing weight of my depression.

The last twenty-one days had gone by at a glacial pace. I’d carefully scheduled meetups with different friends every night, so I could pretend I wasn’t lonely.

Now that I was leaving England, I was faced with reality again: I was alone.

In a few minutes, the plane would touch down in Naples, and then, I’d catch the train to Sorrento by myself. I should have been excited, but the weight of regret settled in my gut.

With each mile I traveled, I was getting farther away from Scott.

And when I left Italy in a week, I’d be returning to Chicago. There would be an ocean between us, and he wouldn’t be able to catch a train to see me for a few blissful hours, like he’d done when I was in York.

He’d promised he’d come back for me, but now I knew that had been a lie. I’d never see him again.

I blinked against the sting at the corners of my eyes and told myself I wasn’t desperately lonely. I’d left my friends behind in England, but I’d meet plenty of people in Sorrento. Plenty of strangers.

My ears popped as the plane began its descent, and I stared out the window. The stunning view did little to cheer me. It was as though I was watching the landscape grow closer in a movie. I was detached from the beauty and awe of the experience; like this wasn’t really my life.

I didn’t want this to be my life. I didn’t want to be traveling alone to yet another rented apartment.

I don’t have a home, either. Scott’s earnest admission tormented me. He’d cut straight to my core with those words. We’d bonded over our shared pain, finding a bittersweet connection that resonated in our souls.

Now, I was left only with the pain, robbed of the comfort of his strong arms around me.

The plane touched down, and I shuffled toward the exit. Moving on auto-pilot, I made my way through the airport and customs. The excitement I used to feel at getting a fresh stamp on my passport was absent. It was just another mark to prove that I had no roots, no home.

I plastered on a smile, telling myself that most people would be elated to visit Italy.

That didn’t affect my dark mood. Berating myself for my self-pity only made my depression that much worse. I was self-centered, selfish. I should be grateful for this opportunity, but I was squandering it.

I didn’t deserve this vacation, but here I was: visiting one of the most romantic cities in the world without a partner by my side.

The customs officer barely glanced at me before stamping my passport and waving his hand toward baggage claim. My feet carried me in that direction, but I was still detached, my reality dulled.

“Addison.”

His voice rumbled through me, and I stiffened. My fantasies must be clouding my mind, because there was no way he was here. He’d said goodbye and hadn’t come back. He’d shut me out and walked away.

His fingers brushed my bare arm, and my fine hairs immediately stood on end, his touch sparking across my skin like an electric shock.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to call my attention to him.

Emotion surged as the world sharpened around me, everything jumping into painful relief.

Lust. Longing. Anger.

I rounded on him. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, even as tears formed in my eyes.

His brows drew together, as though he was puzzled by my ire. “I came to see you.”

A half-mad laugh clawed its way up my throat. “You came here. To Italy.”

He nodded, his eyes watching me carefully. His keen gaze took in the tears that spilled down my cheeks. “Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right.” I couldn’t stop myself from railing at him. He’d stripped me raw. And then, he’d abandoned me. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks, and now, you think you can just show up here?”

His eyes tightened. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Right. You couldn’t come sooner because of your job. Because of your secrets.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I can’t handle this.”

My heart couldn’t handle any more. It had been shredded beyond repair long before I’d met Scott. Somehow, he’d worked his way into the tattered gaps and ripped them farther apart.

“You left me.” The accusation hitched in my throat. “You’ll always leave.”

He reached for me, wrapping his arms around me so I was trapped in his embrace.

I shoved at his chest, but I rested my cheek against his shoulder. My mind told me to push him away, but my soul told me to cling to him. The intimacy between us was too sweet to resist.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked on a strained whisper.

His hands stroked up and down my back. “Because I’m a selfish bastard. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. The way you taste; the way you fit in my arms; the way you understand me like no one else does.”

His fingers curled beneath my chin, and he tipped my head back so I was caught in his intense aquamarine stare. “I can’t stay away from you, Addison.”

“Then don’t,” I begged.

He answered me with a kiss, communicating his need with his hungry mouth on mine. His lips branded me, his tongue stroked in to possess me. My hands shifted from his chest to curve into his shoulders, no longer pretending I wanted to push him away. I wanted to be right here: in his arms.

He kissed me until my fingers tingled and my knees went weak, showing me no mercy.

The loud buzz of the baggage carousel finally tore us apart, and I gasped for air as I sagged against him.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get to Sorrento. I need to get you somewhere more private.”

I shivered at the implication. We’d been making a scene, but I wasn’t remotely embarrassed. I didn’t care what these people thought. All I cared about was being nestled against his hard body.

Now that I was back in his arms, my anger melted. Being with him felt too good, and I fell back into my default mode when I was with him: ignoring my uglier emotions and avoiding thinking about the future. About the emotional consequences I’d face when he inevitably left again.

He retrieved our bags and ushered me outside to the taxi stand. We caught a ride to the train station and bought our tickets for the first train to Sorrento.

Scott barely kept his hands off me during the entire process. His fingers trailed along my back, my nape, my thighs. I didn’t want him to stop touching me. I couldn’t bear to break our contact, either.

When we were seated on the plastic bench on the rickety train that would carry us down the coast, I finally gathered my wits.

“How did you know I’d be here?” I asked.

He rested his hand on my upper thigh, oh-so-close to my sex. Heat suffused my system, and I suppressed the urge to squirm in my seat. It was going to be a long ride to Sorrento.

“You told me you were coming here, remember? I took the first flight into Naples today, so I’d be here whenever your plane arrived. I’ve arranged a week’s leave. I wanted to be with you for longer than a few hours.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “I want that, too. I’m glad you’re here. Sorry I was kind of a bitch at the airport.”

He pulled back so he could meet my eyes. The authoritative slant of his firm jaw made desire bloom in my belly.

“I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that. You’re not a bitch. You couldn’t be a bitch if you tried. I understand why you were upset with me. You had every right to be angry. I didn’t leave you on the best terms.” His lips thinned. “Are you still angry with me?”

“No,” I admitted on a contented sigh. “Not at all. I’m happy.”

The declaration came as a surprise. I hadn’t been truly happy in…longer than I’d like to contemplate. Probably years.

His kiss whispered across my cheek. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “I’m happy, too.”

The heavy way he said it made me suspect that I wasn’t the only one surprised by this particular emotion. Even though he’d shared pieces of his soul with me, I craved to understand him better. We had a whole week together. Surely, he’d open up at least a little in that span of time.

And hopefully, he was ready to open up to his kinky side more. My body burned to join with his, and I couldn’t wait to have him inside me again, binding us together in the most intimate way possible.

As soon as we checked into my Airbnb apartment, he fulfilled my desire. We lay together on the bed, sweaty and gasping for breath.

“That was amazing,” I panted.

He grinned at me. “You’re amazing. I love watching you come. How many orgasms was that?”

I struggled to sort through the pleasurable haze in my mind. “Um, like five? I think?”

He chuckled. “And I barely even spanked you.”

“Hey, don’t think you’re going to convert me to a vanilla,” I warned.

“You’re converting me to a chocolate,” he jibed. “Maybe we can swirl.”

“Oh, my god,” I groaned, slapping his chest. “That was terrible.”

“The joke or the sex?”

“Definitely the joke.” I snuggled back into him. “The sex was incredible.”

“You’re welcome.”

I pursed my lips at him in mock-annoyance. “You’re getting very cocky.”

“And you love it.” He wrapped his hand around my nape and pulled me in for a slow, sweet kiss.

We stayed like that for a long time, unable to resist touching each other, re-learning the contours of each other’s bodies. After a while, I stirred.

“We really should get out of bed. We only have so many days to explore Sorrento.”

He tugged me back into him with a sexy growl. “I only have so many days to explore you.”

The comment elicited a fresh surge of lust, but it was layered with regret. “Only a few days?” I asked quietly.

His expression fell, his levity melting away. “I can’t stay longer than a week. You know I can’t.”

Indecision tormented me. I could throw myself into his arms for the next seven days, or I could put up protective walls and send him away.

I chose the former.

It wasn’t a choice, really. I didn’t have a choice when it came to Scott.

“Let’s go exploring,” I urged, putting on my best smile.

He allowed my deceptively cheery mood, not pressing me to confess my deeper emotions.

We got dressed—after fucking one more time in the shower—and headed out into the city.

Well, Sorrento was more of a town, really. It was even smaller than York. And just as charming.

We walked past the basilica, which was painted pale yellow, accentuated by a white bell tower. The architecture was beautiful, and Scott agreed that we should visit the church the next day. For now, I wanted to learn the streets and see what the city had to offer.

Only a few yards from the basilica, we came to a pedestrian bridge. I paused, my breath taken away by the fantastic view.

To either side of the bridge, the ground dropped away sharply, leaving the pastel-colored buildings perched on high cliffs. In the distance, the Mediterranean Sea glowed navy blue, fading into the paler hues of the horizon. It was impossible to discern where the water ended and the sky began.

“Wow,” I exclaimed softly.

Scott wrapped his arm around my waist. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

I blinked up at him. He wasn’t looking out at the view; he was staring down at me, his eyes alight with something like wonder.

I blushed and broke from his admiring gaze. He gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, redirecting my face to his.

“We really do need to work on you accepting compliments,” he dictated.

“Thank you,” I breathed, compelled by his stern gaze.

He brushed a soft kiss over my lips. “That’s better.” His cheek skimmed against mine as he leaned close to whisper in my ear. “Good girl.”

My clit pulsed and my core heated, my body reacting to the praise with visceral intensity.

I licked my lips. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His fingers curled into my waist, reminding me how he’d gripped me while he’d fucked me hard from behind.

“We’re in public,” I protested weakly.

“No one would know I’d said anything to turn you on if you weren’t blushing so brightly.”

I dipped my head. “I can’t help it.”

“Are you blushing because you’re embarrassed? Or because I’m getting you hot?”

“Scott,” I scolded in an undertone.

“Sir,” he corrected me, the honorific teasing across my neck on his low whisper.

I shuddered as desire coursed through me. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t.”

He chuckled in my ear, a sound of pure masculine satisfaction. Mercifully, he pulled away, taking my hand so he could lead me farther into the city.

“I think you’re starting to like tormenting me,” I grumbled.

He shot me a sly smile. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suppose I am enjoying it.”

I bumped him with my shoulder. “Bastard.” The word held a teasing lilt, and he didn’t take offense.

He simply shrugged with a wide grin that took years off his weathered face.

I blinked and tore my eyes away from him. I’d been staring in rapt fascination, entranced by his joy.

Instead, I focused on the city around us. We’d entered a narrow pedestrian street, lined with countless shops and restaurants on either side. Jewel toned awnings hung over many of them, the garish colors competing for shoppers’ attention. Yellow seemed to be the most predominant choice, and I noticed lemon motifs in several windows.

“What do you think the lemons are about?” I asked Scott, idly curious.

“Let’s find out.”

He ushered me into a souvenir shop. It seemed to sell mostly magnets, postcards, and jewelry. My attention caught on an adorable pair of glass lemon drop earrings as soon as we walked in. I touched their smooth, round surface, feeling their delicate weight.

Scott immediately picked them up and carried them to the counter.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Getting these for you.”

“I don’t need them,” I protested. He’d already bought me the stuffed Hedwig plushy—and I’d slept with it every night he was gone.

I didn’t need more gifts from him. His presence was gift enough.

“You like them,” he replied, setting them down on the counter. He turned his attention to the shop owner. “So,” he said conversationally, “What are the lemons about? We’ve seen them everywhere.”

The man beamed at us. “You just arrived in Sorrento?” His accent was thick, but he seemed willing to speak to us in English.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Sorry, I don’t really speak Italian.” I knew the basics, but I couldn’t carry a conversation.

“It’s okay,” he reassured me. “The lemons are popular because of the limoncello we make here. Have you tried it?”

“No. Is it sour?”

“Here,” the man said, picking up a small basket that I hadn’t noticed on the counter. It was filled to the brim with individually wrapped hard candies. “Try.”

I picked one up and unwrapped it dubiously. “This is limoncello? I thought it was a drink.”

“It’s inside. Try it,” he urged again.

I popped the sweet into my mouth and sucked on it. At first, it tasted like a faintly sour lemon drop. Then, the hard coating cracked, and liquid oozed onto my tongue. The lemony flavor was tinged with the distinct burn of alcohol. I suppressed a grimace and swallowed.

Scott laughed. “Not your favorite?”

I forced a smile, not wanting to offend the shop owner. “Thank you,” I hedged, not deigning to reply to Scott.

“We’d like the earrings, please.” He slid them farther across the counter to indicate his intent to purchase them.

When the owner rang them up, I discovered they only cost twelve euros. I breathed a small sigh of relief. They weren’t expensive, so I didn’t have to feel too guilty about accepting the gift from Scott.

As we stepped out of the shop, I slipped the silver hoops in place so I could wear the earrings as we walked through the city.

Scott smiled and flicked one of them lightly. “Adorable,” he approved. Again, he was studying my face.

“Thanks,” I said, expressing my gratitude for the compliment rather than the gift.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, communicating his pleasure with me. “You’re welcome.”

We walked a little farther down the street, until the crowds began to thin out. I was about to suggest we turn back when I noticed white footprints painted on the pavement.

“I wonder where these lead,” I mused, following them.

“Down the rabbit hole, apparently.”

“What?”

Scott waved a brochure at me. I hadn’t noticed him accepting it from a woman who stood to the side of the street.

“This restaurant they’re promoting. Artis Domus. The leaflet says it’s like Alice in Wonderland. Apparently, they have peacocks and bunnies.”

“Bunnies?” I practically bounced on the balls of my feet, excitement thrumming through me. “Can we pet them?”

He laughed and kissed my forehead again. “Let’s find out.”