Page 30 of Irreplaceable

Funny how some of my favorite qualities in her were the ones most lacking in myself. That said, she didn’t live the type of life I did back home in Milan. And that was what made this time—and her—so precious to me.

“I’ve had a few injuries, sprained ankle among them.”

She nodded but said nothing more.

“So I know you had a few items on your vacation wish list before your injury. I hope you haven’t been too disappointed about how everything has turned out.”

She laughed. “Oh, I have not been disappointed at all by this vacation.” Though I knew she was really speaking about me.

“We’ve gotten massages.” I ticked off one finger, listing the items from her vacation goals. “Lounged by the pool.”

She sighed, and I assumed that she, like me, was thinking about last night, when I’d taken her in the pool. My dick started to harden, and I had to glance away from her before I dragged her back to bed once more.

“Since you’ve been cleared for more walking, would you feel up to visiting some local temples tomorrow?”

“I’d love that.” She took a bite of her croissant, and it made me smile. I’d noticed she was in the habit of sampling everything on the plate. She was so eager, so excited about everything. “We could even go today, if you want.”

“Ah.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “We could, but I have other plans for us.”

“Mm.” She leaned into me, and I relished her touch. The feel of her in my arms. Time was slipping through my fingers, and soon, this week would be nothing more than a memory. “What kinds of plans?”

I could hear the smile in her voice, and in that moment, I saw forever. The two of us sitting outside just like we were, watching the sun set. Kissing beneath a starlit sky. Making love beneath the moon. I saw it all.

But it wasn’t reality.

I was living in a fantasy, and I should enjoy it while it lasted.

She stood from her chair and straddled me. When she ran her fingers through my hair, I closed my eyes. My hands were on her hips. The scent of almonds and salty ocean air forever linked in my mind with Harper.

“Plans.” I forced out the word, my mouth going dry as she started to grind against me.

“Do they involve the two of us,” she whispered in my ear. It felt like she was everywhere. “Naked. In bed?”

I hovered over the vein in her neck, her pulse racing beneath my lips. I had the overwhelming urge to mark her skin, to brand her as mine. I’d never had this feeling with other women, this need to claim. But Harper seemed to bring out both the best and worst in me. She drove me to my basest desires, while making me want to strive to be a better man.

“Yes, but…” I swallowed hard. “Later. We have to leave soon.”

“Are you sure?” She was just as insatiable as me. Last night, I’d woken to her mouth wrapped around my cock, the moon shining through the curtains.

“Don’t tempt me,” I chided. “I have a surprise for you, but it requires us being on time.”

She kissed my cheek then stood, and I felt my body sag in her absence. If that was my reaction now, when she was still here, how would I handle saying goodbye?

“Okay. I’ll brush my teeth and finish getting ready.”

I nodded. “Good. The car leaves in twenty.”

We took in the sights along the way, bypassing the town until we arrived at the family compound where we’d be taking the art class. Harper wasn’t using the crutches, but she was supposed to limit the amount of walking she did. It was a big part of the reason I’d selected today’s activity. She’d be able to sit, and I had a feeling it was something she’d love.

We followed one of the staff into the darkened room, and Harper immediately gasped.

“Oh, this is amazing.” She spun around slowly, taking in the colorful cloths decorated by hand. “I love batik painting.”

A man came over to greet us and introduced himself before giving us a brief history of batik painting. I’d seen the colorful designs around town and at Mizuki House, but I hadn’t realized the amount of work that went into creating them.

Once he finished, he led Harper and me to a table where numerous designs were laid out. He explained some of the symbolism behind them as we traced our selected designs onto the fabric with pencil and then practiced outlining with wax.

“Wow, this is…harder than I expected,” Harper said, her tongue poking out from her mouth. She was focused on canting—using the pen-like object to apply the wax to the design. And I was so focused on her, I didn’t notice the wax seep through the material until it was burning my skin.

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