Page 40 of Skin Deep

I opened his phone and checked out his gallery. “Ah. The girl.” A picture of her in costume. Another one of her laughing in her wedding gown.

“She has a name,” he said. “Mari.”

“Mariposa.”

“She prefers Mari.”

Seemed she only allowed one person to call her by her full name. Her husband. Harrison was everyone else.

I turned the phone’s screen toward us, pressed the button so the camera was ready for a selfie, then set my head close to his. My hair was pulled back in a gold silk scarf, and my cat-eye sunglasses glittered from the diamonds on the points, with the reflection of all the sunflowers in the lenses.

Taken by surprise, he was looking at me. His features seemed chiseled, like he was made of stone, and the camera seemed to love him as much as it loved me. His facial expression was the opposite of how hard he was. It seemed like he was looking at me with…interest.

Maybe something more to someone who had no idea what I was to him—a test to the feelings he had for the girl, and how she felt about him.

He stared at the photo. “I bet you never take a bad picture,” he said.

“Depends on the angle.” I grinned. “No one looks good from the ground up.” I slid a hand down my throat. Meaning from that angle, it would give anyone a double chin.

He grinned and, bending down, went to pick one of the flowers. I stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “It deserves to be here, where it can thrive, until the sun goes down on it forever. Naturally.”

He looked up at me. “This place special to you?”

The lump in my throat seemed to get bigger. He noticed, just like he noticed my smile and how imperfect it was. “It is right to keep things where they belong, no?”

“Not a woman who likes flowers, then,” he said, standing.

I smiled even though my heart hurt. “Chocolate. Give me all the chocolate.”

He walked over to the car, opened the door, and pulled out his bag. He dug in it for a second, then came back, holding out a chocolate bar.

“Found it at a chocolate place in Modica.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why are you grinning like that?”

He’d gotten it at the shopmammaandzieowned in Modica. It was my favorite. As special to me as the sunflowers in the field.

After taking a bite of the chocolate, which was close to melted from the heat in the car, I held it out for him. He went to bite it, but I pulled back, teasing him.

“Have you tried it?”

“No,” he said. “I was saving it—thought maybe someone in my family would like it.”

“Ah, the forever giving Harrison Ryan,” I said. “This should teach you something. Never save anything for a special occasion whentodayis the special occasion.”

I took another bite. Grabbing him by the shirt, I tried to pull him down, but he wouldn’t budge. Our eyes connected and held.

“The vanilla, cinnamon, and chili mixed with the chocolate taste better from my tongue.”

“Who says?” His eyes narrowed.

“Does not matter who says.” I shrugged. “Kiss me and find out if it’s true.”

“I won’t know if it’s true or not if I don’t eat a bite first. I need something to compare it to.”

I held it out for him. He took a small bite from the bar. Then, instead of me pulling on him again, he took me by the shirt and set my mouth against his. He had easy access when a gasp slipped through my lips from the rush of my body pressed so close to his. Kissing him was like being out in the Mediterranean Sea while cool water slipped over my hot flesh.

We held on to each other as our tongues swirled around the aromatic flavors. The kiss was so deep and so long that, when I pulled away from him, my eyes were closed, and my breath felt shallow.

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