LYRA

07.14.15

I was afraid things might get weird between us after the sexually-charged exchange this morning, but surprisingly, as soon as we were back in the rental car and on the road, we fell right back into our light banter and easy conversation. There’s something so natural when I’m with Tavian, despite the fact our relationship shifted from strangers to basically living together on the road at the speed of light. It’s effortless, a connection that can only be explained through unspoken words. The entire trip still feels like a dream.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Tavian tosses a grin in my direction and slides his hand from the middle console to my thigh, his touch a reminder this is, in fact, real. “You doing okay? We’ve got about an hour left until we get to the hotel, but I don’t think there’s gonna be much between here and there. It’s straight climbing up the mountain now.”

“I’m good. Just feels odd not having my camera,” I reply, returning his friendly smile. “These landscapes are incredible. I hate that I’m not getting any shots of them.”

“Just wait until we get to where we’re staying. You’re not going to believe the views.” He returns his hand to the steering wheel as the curvy roads gradually become narrower, and a wake of heated tingles is left behind from his touch. I already miss it. “Plus, I’m sure you can teach me how to use the camera well enough to take some pictures. They won’t be fancy like yours with the lighting and shadowing and all that jazz, but they won’t suck.”

I toss my head back and laugh. “So that’s the threshold we’re looking for—photos that don’t suck? You set such high standards, Mr. West. I hope you expect more from your students.”

Trying his best not to show amusement, he presses his lips together and furrows his brow. “Careful there, buttercup. Remember who has two working hands and who doesn’t. I think you should be nice to me since you rely on me to have clean, brushed hair and any buttons fastened or unfastened.”

“Nice isn’t threatening to take advantage of someone’s injury. And of all names, why in the world do you call me buttercup?” I ask, still laughing.

He shrugs and the solemn expression cracks as his lips curl up and the dimple in his chin emerges. “You hated when I called you sweetheart at first, and buttercup rhymed with ‘eat up’ that day I nearly spanked your ass for having some ridiculous fuckin’ breakfast.”

My lower jaw falls open as I gape at him in disbelief. “Spank my ass?” I quip. “What planet are you living on?”

“The same one you’re living on where someone who eats only a piece of bread and an apple as a meal needs their ass spanked.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “That’s never happening by the way, and buttercup is a dumb nickname.”

“I’ll add those facts to your official record,” he says smugly, keeping his attention on the road ahead of us. “And careful using that never word again, buttercup. I’ve already told you I like a good challenge.”

“I can’t believe you rented a house,” I blurt out when we pull up in front of the place Tavian announces is our home for the last few days of our trip. “Are you crazy? Never mind, don’t answer that.”

I jump out of the car before he even gets the thing shifted into Park and rush up the walkway to the small house that looks like it’s directly from the pages of a Frank Lloyd Wright magazine. Straight angles, clean lines, and windows—lots and lots of windows—come together to create an architectural masterpiece that’s built into the side of the mountain. Yes, as in the mountain works as a back wall for the house. Mind officially blown.

You better figure out how to take pictures with your left hand, and fast. There is no way you can leave here without doing this place the justice it deserves.

“It’s a villa, not a house,” he corrects as he races up the path, catching up with me, “and it’s really no different than a hotel except we don’t have to share the pool and the million-dollar view with strangers.”

Of course, the uniqueness of the place clearly sets it apart from a hotel. But it’s the except part that he makes seem insignificant that’s the real issue here. For the next three nights, it’s going to be just the two of us staying in this picturesque little villa, secluded in the mountains of northern Italy. The sexual tension between us is already fraying the rope of restraint we’re both clinging to… and it’s not going to take much for me to let go.

When I don’t respond, he continues trying to sell me on the house. “It has two separate bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, so you’ll still have your own space. And I thought with your hand situation it’d be easier than separate hotel rooms.” He’s completely mistaken my silence for me not liking it. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m afraid I like it too much. I may never want to leave.

“You booked this today? When? How?” I tear my eyes away from the jaw-dropping infinity pool adjacent to the dwelling and search his handsome face for answers.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “This morning when you were being stubborn about letting me help pack your suitcase and it took almost an hour, I realized we needed a place with two bedrooms so I can be around to help. So I did a quick search online, found this place available, and rented it.” Pausing, he punches a code in a keypad next to the door then continues to talk as he swings the frosted glass door open. “I even had the owner stock it with food and drinks for a week, just to be sure we have enough variety. I know you aren’t keen on having a spotlight on you, so I assumed you’d rather not have me feeding you in public places for the rest of the trip.”

His thoughtfulness overwhelms me. So much so that as we walk around and check out each of the rooms, I pay no attention to the brilliant interior design that rivals the one-of-a-kind exterior. I’m head-over-heels for this man, and dammit, it feels so right, I’ve almost convinced myself that it is.

“Which bedroom do you want?” Tavian asks as we stand in the sunken living room after finishing our tour. “I’m gonna grab the bags from the car and get settled in so we can start dinner.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. They’re both huge and amazing,” I tell him honestly, looking back and forth between the two rooms off to our right. Each boasts a king-size bed and an en suite—one with a giant walk-in shower, the other with an impressive soaking tub next to the mountain wall.

“Decide by the time I get back with the suitcases or we’re sharing one,” he commands, then spins around and marches out.

I stand here dumbfounded as his words echo in my head. Or we’re sharing one… sharing one… sharing one.

Is he being serious… and if he is, what does that mean? Lust-driven hope blossoms deep in my core and my dirtiest fantasies finally have a face. Stop, Lyra. You’re getting in way over your head.

He returns, loaded down with our luggage and my backpack that I left behind in my haste to get inside the house, and stops next to me. One cocky eyebrow curves up as his twitchy lip does the same. “And?”

The numbers in his eyes are so dim I can’t even make them out. They no longer matter. Tomorrow isn’t today, and today is what we have now. Right now matters. We matter.

Ready to push my boundaries, prepared for the potential consequences for my non-answer, I say, “And I’ll go explore the fridge and decide what’s on the menu tonight.”

Then, I pivot on my heel and make a beeline for the kitchen.

Dinner was… well, dinner was incredible, but that’s because I talked Tavian into making grilled chicken Caesar salads with homemade dressing for me. Even though he grumbled a bit at first about eating rabbit food and how he’s in charge of the meal decisions from this point on, he wore a smile the entire time I instructed him through the recipe. And after he devoured his initial plate and a second full helping, he admitted that “maybe it wasn’t so bad” and he was “full enough.”

Relying on our ability to discuss pretty much anything and everything, neither of us mentioned the sleeping situation throughout the couple of hours it took us to prep, cook, eat, and clean, and I haven’t ventured out of the kitchen and dining area to see where he put the bags. Regardless, either my pride or my morals will take a devastating blow.

But now that I’ve mastered one-handed dish drying and everything’s put away, it’s time to lie in the bed I made—both proverbially and literally—and learn if it’ll be alone or with Tavian. I shuffle my feet across the cement floor from one fuzzy area rug to another, anxiety weighing them down.

When I reach where Tavian stands in the living room, looking at something on his phone, he glances up at me and says, “I’m going to go out and check some things on the car while there’s still a little daylight left. I thought I heard a funny noise earlier and just want to make sure everything appears to be okay. I can help you with whatever you need when I get back in.”

“Okay, no problem.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. At least I can do this damn room reveal without him watching. “Actually, since you washed my hair last night and we didn’t do much of anything except sit in a car today, it doesn’t need it tonight. I can go ahead and bathe and change. There won’t be any buttons involved,” I joke, hoping to cover up my nervousness.

“Yeah, sounds good.” He smiles and nods his head in agreement, but makes no flirty comment about the shower or helping me dress, because his attention has returned to his phone. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

He damn near sprints out to the car, like he can’t get away from me fast enough, and as the door slams shut behind him, a wave of fear and insecurities nearly knock me over. I don’t know what happened all of a sudden. He’s been flirting with me all day—hell, all week—and now that I finally take the chance and dip my big toe into this pool of whatever the hell all this romance-sex-love bullshit is, he decides he’s done swimming?

Grunting my frustration, I take a quick gander out the enormous window in the front, where he at least has the hood propped up and appears to be inspecting it for something. Swallowing the bile down in the back of my throat, I pad over to the doorway of the first bedroom—the one with the shower. I peek in… and nothing. No bags at all. Untouched.

I move swiftly to the other bedroom and step inside to discover all our bags lined up against the smooth gray rock wall and my backpack on the nightstand. Flipping on the light, I silently scold myself for jumping to conclusions about him wanting to get away from me. I just… I just don’t know what I’m doing.

But seeing that he did put all our stuff in the same room triggers the hope from earlier to resurface, and like a flip of a switch, my body burns with desire. The desire to touch him intimately and to let him touch me. The desire to let go—free-fall—knowing he’ll be there to catch me. The desire to feel alive like I’ve never experienced before, and may never again. The desire to matter to him.

Somehow managing to push my large suitcase over on its side, I unzip it and dig around for a clean pair of panties, Tavian’s gravity shirt, and my bag of toiletries, then disappear into the bathroom, not locking the door behind me.

You know, just in case I might need help.

An hour later—shaving my legs and bikini line with my left hand a feat in itself—I emerge from the bathroom, completely dressed on my own, to discover Tavian must’ve gotten tired of waiting for me, because I can hear the shower running from the other bathroom. I stuff my dirty clothes inside the garbage bag I keep them in then move out into the living area of the house, thinking it’ll be rather awkward if I just get in bed and wait for him.

I dawdle around the room for a few minutes, examining the different pieces of art on the walls and killing time. There’s not a TV in the house, and Tavian already said the phone and internet service are spotty, so my options for entertaining myself are limited since I can’t use my camera.

Winding my way around to the front of the house, I wander out the door to explore the rest of the property. For a brief moment when my bare feet hit the cool earth, I glance down at my clothes and consider going back inside for some pants and shoes but decide against it and trod on in the oversized shirt. After all, it’s not like there’s anyone within fifty miles of us to see me, and the light breeze is welcoming against my exposed skin.

Night fell while I was pruning in the bathtub, but the patio area beckons with a faint yellow glow and the pool itself is lit up electric blue—almost the exact shade of Tavian’s eyes. Sitting down on one of the chaise lounges, I recline back against the padded cushion and stare up at the darkening sky. The brightest, closest stars already shine radiantly, but with every noiseless minute that passes, more and more appear, until there are so many that they form a sparkling umbrella above me.

“Breathtaking view.”

I startle at the sound of his voice, having not heard him slip out the door, and sit up straight to watch him approach—wet hair, no shirt or shoes, and a loose pair of shorts hanging low on his hips. I take in the bottle of Pinot and couple of glasses in his grasp when he draws near, and smile warmly as my pulse kicks it up a notch. Two things I would’ve had no interest in nine days ago–wine and this intelligent, fun-loving, gorgeous half-dressed man—are now the answers to what I’ve spent the last dozen years searching for: unbridled bliss.

“Yeah,”—I lie back and return my gaze up to the heavens, trying not to drool on myself—“it’s no surprise my dad fell in love with them. How can you not be mesmerized?”

Tavian lowers himself in the matching chair next to mine then pours us each a healthy glass of the burgundy wine. “The stars are beautiful,” he rasps as he extends the drink to me, “but that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

And just like that, the tranquil vibe surrounding me shifts.

Every nerve ending stands at attention, my senses on high alert. I want this—him—like I never knew I could want someone.

“Oh,” I squeak, shooting him a quick side-eye glance. I accept the glass with my trembling left hand and his fingers skim over mine during the transfer, causing me to almost drop it. Immediately, I take a nice, long gulp, ignoring all the rules I learned yesterday at the wineries about swirling and sniffing and swishing. I need something to calm my suddenly frazzled nerves.

A husky chuckle rumbles deep in his throat, and I feel it vibrate directly between my legs. “I see you were able to bathe and dress on your own.”

“I was.”

“That’s a shame,” he tsks.

I snap my head over to him and narrow my stare. Mischief dances in his eyes and he doesn’t even try to hide the shit-eating grin on his face. I don’t know how to reply to that, and I’m afraid even if I did, I’d be giving him exactly what he wants—me riled up.

“But I do need you to wrap my hand for me when we go back inside,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as jumpy as I feel.

Tavian scoots his chair closer, eliminating the space between us, and gently cups my hurt hand in his, lifting it up into the light where he can see it. “How’s it feeling?”

“Better in the wrist for sure. Fingers start to hurt when the medicine wears off,” I murmur as he leans into me, our faces only a couple inches apart. The clean scent from his shower wafts up my nose and I close my eyes while imagining myself nuzzling up to his neck.

“Lyra.” My name sounds like a sexy serenade rolling off his tongue. My body is responsive and ready while my soul is at ease.

“Hmm?” I mumble, tilting my face up to his but keeping my lids shut.

He carefully releases my hand back on my lap, and seconds later, he’s cupping my face from both sides, pulling me to him. “Look at me, buttercup. I want to see those beautiful eyes the first time I kiss you.”

My eyes fly open, locking in on his heated silvery gaze, and I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth. His strong fingers feather along my jawline and glide around to the back of my neck, anchoring me as they tangle in my hair. In a flash, his lips are on mine and the world stops. Stops rotating on its axis, stops revolving around the sun, even gravity stops working, because I’m higher than the stars right now.

Tavian presses his tender yet demanding mouth against mine, and I open effortlessly, ready to give him everything I have. Our tongues move in perfect synchronization, dancing a forbidden tango of desperate twirls and reckless dips. It’s intense, impassioned, and just plain imprudent. But I never want him to stop. I need more.

My left hand grabs at his waist, needing something to ground me, but with him not wearing a shirt, my palm lands on hot rippled flesh, and I moan into his mouth. This is better than any fantasy I’ve ever had.

“Fuck,” he groans, wrenching his mouth from mine as we both gasp for air. “Taste so fucking good.”

“You mean like wine?” I giggle.

He gives me the dimple then comes in for an encore kiss, this one shorter but no less wonderful. “Only a hint of wine. Mostly just your sweetness, buttercup.”

I roll my eyes at his cheesy line, but butterflies swarm in my belly all the same. His charm knows no boundaries.

“C’mon, let’s go inside so I can doctor you up and we can get some sleep.” He pushes to his feet and then, catching me completely off guard, scoops me up off the chair and cradles me to his chest. “We’ve gotta wake up early for our excursion tomorrow.”

“Excursion?” I question, forehead crinkled with confusion. “What excursion?”

The sly smile that tugs at his lips makes my heart skip a beat. Oh, no. What is he planning?

Ignoring my question, Tavian carries me into the bedroom and sets me down on the bed. Still not answering, he gathers the supplies he needs then kneels between my legs. The nightshirt bunches up in my lap, baring all of my legs and probably a glimpse of my panties to him. I ache for his touch, captivated by his physical presence, lost under his spell.

“Do you trust me, Lyra?” he asks, his tone sincere. Bright, hopeful blue eyes peer up at mine pleadingly. Numberless.

Don’t think about what that means. Just go with it.

I nod confidently. “Yes.”

“Then go with me in the morning on blind faith, and I promise it’ll be a day you never forget.”

The usual reluctance I’d feel to agree never comes, and I find myself nodding again. “Okay, I’ll go, but under one condition.”

He secures the bandage after wrapping my fingers. “What’s that?”

“You’ll kiss me again like before.”

Moving faster than humanly possible, he launches onto the bed and pins me down to the mattress. The smoldering expression on his face mirrors the ecstasy I feel as he dips his head. “Hell yes, buttercup,” he mumbles against my lips. “Anytime, anywhere. I’m all yours.”