Page 68 of A Wedding in Tuscany

Tuscany

‘So, I know it’s dinner and it’s outside …’ I say to Josh as I stand at the wardrobe, flicking through my clothes.

‘Hold on, who told you it was outside?’ He’s lying on the bed scrolling on his phone. Well, he was. Now I have his full attention.

‘Who do you think?’

‘Your mom.’

‘Yep. Let’s just say the CIA won’t be calling her any time soon.’

‘Mmm.’

‘So … back to me. What should I be wearing? Is it dressy? Caz?’

He leaps up and comes over, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. ‘How about we skip it and stay here instead? Then you won’t need to wear anything.’ I turn within his embrace.

‘Joshua, several little birdies have told me that you have gone to a lot of trouble for tonight. We’re not skipping it.’

His storm-coloured eyes flash with lust and his brows lift. ‘We could be a little late.’

I kiss him. God, I love those lips. ‘What did you have in mind?’ I murmur when we pull apart.

‘The shower.’

‘Oh, yes, brilliant idea.’

‘And you won’t need this …’ He tugs at the hem of my top and pulls it over my head. ‘Or this …’ He reaches behind me and fumbles a little with my bra clasp, then slides the straps off my shoulders. His head dips, his lips caressing one breast, then the other and I close my eyes, luxuriating in the sensation.

‘Or these …’ he says softly, unbuttoning my jeans and unzipping them. I shimmy my hips as his hands run along my thighs, pushing my jeans to the floor. I step out of them. ‘And you definitely won’t need these.’ He hooks a finger either side of my knickers and pulls them off. When I’m naked, he stands slowly and captures my mouth in another kiss. This one is urgent and hot, possessive even. His hands cup my bum, pulling me closer.

‘I’m not sure I can wait,’ he says, his mouth still against mine. ‘C’mere.’ His voice is gravelly and low and his pulls me to the edge of the bed where he frees his erection and beckons me to climb onto him.

I do, though I want to feel his skin against mine. I tug at his T-shirt and he whips it off over his head. Our eyes lock and we kiss again, our arms wrapped around each other as our hips rock in a shared rhythm. I lose myself completely in the feel of his body against mine, in the smell of his citrusy, masculine scent, in the guttural moans of pleasure he emits.

When we come back to the world, I pull him closer and bury my face in the curve of his neck, his soft curls tickling my forehead. ‘I love you, Josh,’ I whisper.

‘I love you too. Happy birthday.’

I ease out of his embrace and lean back. ‘Thank you.’

His eyes rove my face. ‘You’re so beautiful, do you know that?’

‘Yeah, not bad for an old chick.’ Oops, I’ve said it out loud.

His eyes narrow momentarily and he cocks his head. ‘You don’t believe that do you?’ he asks.

‘What? That I’m beautiful? Course, I do. I’m stunning.’ When in doubt, self-deprecate.

‘No, I mean what you said about your age,’ he says, completely missing my (feeble) attempt at humour.

‘Oh, no … no, all good.’ I smile but I can tell he’s not buying it.

He strokes the side of my face, frowning a little. ‘One day, you will be an old woman …’ I go to say something but he shakes his head and presses a finger to my lips. ‘Let me finish my thought.’

‘Okay.’

‘One day?a very long time from now?you will reach an age that is objectively “old”.’

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