Page 41 of No One But Us

“Where are you going?” Jamesdemands.

My shoulders sag. “He wants to show me theirgarden.”

“Awesome,” he says, rising to his feet. “I lovegardens.”

Domenico’s grimace makes it clear this was not what he had in mind. He places a hand on the back of my arm and turns us toward the garden without acknowledging James atall.

He shows me the garden, with James right on our heels the entire time. “He’s your boyfriend?” he asks in Italian. When we switch languages, James comes to my side, his hand resting lightly at the small of myback.

“Yes,” Ilie.

“He’s very possessive.” He smirks. “Perhaps he senses you’re ready to move on to a realman?”

I smile. “I don’t think that’sit.”

We head back down the stairs, and when a waiter stops Domenico, James pulls me around the corner. To my surprise, he’sangry.

“Are you going to keep flirting with him all night?” hehisses.

“I’m not flirting,” Iretort.

“I know flirting when I see it, whether it’s in English or Italian.” All his earlier softness is gone, and his eyes are dangerous in the moonlight. It excites me and angers me in the same moment. “He’s way too old foryou.”

I roll my eyes. “He’s only 30,” I say, turning to go. “And why would it possibly matter toyou?”

His hand circles my forearm, pulling me back to him. Our eyes meet, and everything that was in his face just moments before has shifted, replaced by something that isn’t angry or distant at all. Like a blurry photo made clear, the things I’ve seen in his face so often havesharpened.

And—oh my God—all those times he seemed so aloof? I think I was seriously misreadinghim.

There’s no time to process this. There is only the thrill of his hand threading through my hair, tilting my chin upward. The bright need in his eyes, the whisper of his exhale over my skin before his mouth brushes mine, setting nerve endings sparking like tiny shivers over my surface, while his lips, warm and soft and searching, open to me. His tongue teases, commanding me to take him in, and when I respond, brushing his tongue with the lightest flick of my own, his body coils tight. I feel the sound he makes, low in his throat, a hum that makes my whole body feel overheated and ripe. He grabs my hips and pulls me against him, and suddenly I am part of his moving pieces—the quick rise and fall of his chest, his arms caging me in. A gust of air blows around us, salt and pine mixing with the smell of his soap, the starch of hisshirt.

“Elle,” he murmurs, the sound of it almostpained.

His breath is against my ear, his lips pressing to the corner of my jaw, to the soft skin beneath, pulling a shaky inhale from me, then a low whimper as his hands slide over my bare back and below my waist. His mouth finds mine again, the kiss harder this time, urgent, backing me to the wall. The old brick grates against my skin, pain that seems to heighten the pleasure of everything else I feel—his impatient mouth and the heat of his chest and his hands cupping my ass. I arch forward, tasting the salt on his skin as I press myself to the part of him that is hard and ready, and his answer is a groan that seems to vibrate through hischest.

A voice shatters the bubble we’re in like an explosion. Ginny is approaching, calling our names, and we jump away from each other and stand there, gasping andshocked.

“I’m sorry,” James says. I’ve never seen anyone look as horrified as he does now. “Fuck. That was a mistake. I shouldn’thave—”

“Everyone’s been looking for you!” huffs Ginny. “What were youdoing?”

Allison, behind her, is pale beneath her tan, and seems to know exactly what we weredoing.

“I’m sorry,” James whispers. And then he walks away without another word, with Allison behindhim.

“What just happened?” Ginnydemands.

“Nothing,” Ireply.

Ginny looks from their retreating backs to me. “We’re going to Max’s bar,” she says stiffly. “I think it would be easier for everyone if you didn’tcome.”

I will be hurt by this later, but right now I’m too dumbfounded to process it. So she walks away as I stand there, stunned by what happened and how itended.

I lean against the wall and remember it—the moment he pulled me against him, his fingers running through my hair. The whisper of his breath and his soft mouth and the way he said my name, as if it had sat on his lips for a long time waiting to be set free. I remember it all in exquisite, excruciatingdetail.

Including the part where he looked at me in horror andapologized.

Chapter 24

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