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“Go to sleep, then.” His fingers trail over my hair. “It will be morning when we get to the resort, so you should rest until then, if you can. There’s a bedroom at the back of the jet?—”
“I like it here,” I murmur sleepily. And I do. I like being so close to him, curled up against him while he goes back to his book, and the plane carries us toward our destination.
Sometime in the night, I sleepily feel him pick me up, carrying me back to that bedroom that he mentioned. He undresses and lies down with me, pulling me against him, and I nestle close to him underneath the blankets. Time doesn’t feel quite the same up here, caught in some liminal space between when we left and when we’ll arrive, and I have no idea what time it is at all when I wake up again.
Behind me, I can feel that Lorenzo is hard, pressing against the small of my back. I arch against him, moving slightly, and he groans, his hand sliding down my hip.
“Please,” I whisper softly in the darkness, the word that I know always undoes him, and he reaches down, tugging my panties down to my thighs as he angles the tip of his cock between them.
By now, I’m not sure there’s any way that we haven’t done this. But this is one of my favorites—sleepy and slow, his body curled around mine as he slides into me, one hand slipping between my thighs to stroke my clit while the other slides under my t-shirt to play with my breasts. His lips are against the back of my neck, the heat of his body sinking into mine as he thrusts into me with small, rocking strokes, bringing to mind that first night that we went to the club.
He fucks me like this when he’s so aroused that he can hardly stand it, when taking me hard and fast would mean he would come too soon, and that only turns me on more. He must have been dreaming about me, to be so close already, I realize, and I moan as I arch back against him, wickedly wanting to make it harder for him to wait for his release.
“Fuck,” Lorenzo breathes against my skin, his hips shuddering against me. “I’m—god, Mila, you feel so good?—”
His fingers rub against my clit faster, pushing me closer, but I want to wait for him. “Come with me,” I whisper, and he groans, his body melting into mine as his lips press against my shoulder, and he moans, the two of us coming apart at the same time, together.
After, we both drift off to sleep again for a while, until the sound of the plane touching down wakes us up. We step off the plane to tropical heat and salty air, and Lorenzo flashes a grin at me, gesturing towards the waiting car.
“Welcome to paradise,” he murmurs. “Although I think I was there, earlier.”
I flush at that, and he smirks, enjoying having caught me off guard. This feels like a honeymoon, I think to myself, but I don’t say it out loud. I don’t want Lorenzo to feel as if he’s being pushed into proposing to me, when our relationship has already moved quickly, and I’m worried that I want it too soon. That my fantasies about him promising me forever are ridiculous when we’ve already said that, just without the official question.
The resort that we’re taken to is huge, all white sandstone buildings, lush grass and tropical flowers, and the sound of the crashing water in the distance. We’re taken up to a penthouse room with a view of the beach, an infinity pool stretching off of our balcony, and I turn in a circle around the open, airy room, feeling as if I’m dreaming.
“This is incredible,” I whisper, going to Lorenzo and leaning up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “It’s perfect.”
“That makes me very happy, dolce.” He leans down, kissing me again. “What do you want to do first?”
There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes when I pull away, and I look at him innocently. “Shower first. Then that pool looks wonderful. And then—” I let my gaze slide over him, and Lorenzo’s heats.
“You better get undressed somewhere else, then,” he murmurs. “Or you won’t make it to the shower.”
I move just out of reach, flashing him a teasing smile before disappearing into the shower. I strip out of the clothes I’ve now traveled and slept in, looking around the bathroom wide-eyed. I’ve gotten a little more used to living in luxury these past eight months with Lorenzo, but it still startles me to just be somewhere like this. It’s as open and airy as the main room, with plants along the upper part of the walls and eucalyptus hanging from the rainstorm showerhead, the shower separate from the huge soaking tub. I curl my toes against the stone floor, feeling a flush of excitement.
A whole week alone with Lorenzo, in this beautiful, magical place. I’m overwhelmed with how much I love him, with how perfect this all is.
With how unexpectedly my entire life has changed.
I linger in the shower, scrubbing myself with the coconut-scented sugar scrub and washing off with the tropical-scented gel, floating away on a cloud of steam scented like vacation. I finally pry myself out, toweling off and wrapping myself in a fluffy robe as I go out in search of my swimsuit. Or, I consider as I open the door, nothing at all, since it’s a private pool.
I’d expected Lorenzo to be out on the balcony. Instead, to my surprise, he’s sitting on the edge of the soft-looking white bed, his expression almost anxious. He stands up the minute I step out, and I look at him, knowing my face is probably as confused as I feel.
“Are you okay?” I venture, and he takes two steps towards me, his throat flushed as he stops a hand’s length away.
“I keep thinking about when to—what would be the most romantic moment, and I keep changing my mind. I’m not sure I can wait any longer?—”
“For what?” My pulse picks up, nervousness spreading through me. I’m not sure what’s going on. “You’re scaring me a little?—”
Abruptly, he drops to one knee in front of me, and my eyes go wide. It takes me a moment to realize what’s happening.
“I’ve wanted to ask you this since the night I brought you back to my home. Maybe even before that. Since the first night I had dinner with you, and watched you make spaghetti.” Lorenzo swallows hard, reaching into his pocket. A small black velvet box is in his hand. “I know it’s fast. I know you might not be sure. But Mila, will you marry me?—”
“Yes,” I say before the words are even out of his mouth, and on impulse, I sink down onto the floor in front of him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
A smile like nothing I’ve ever seen on his face spreads across his mouth. “I was afraid you’d say no,” he murmurs, opening the box. A rose gold ring is inside, a pale pink diamond surrounded by smaller white, petal-shaped diamonds. “I’ve been carrying this around for four months. I was afraid you’d find it if I left it at home, and run away.”
“You were afraid I wouldn’t want to move in with you, too.” I lean in, kissing him softly. “I will love you forever, Lorenzo. I don’t need to be your wife to love you. But I would very much like to be.”
He reaches out, as if he’s still in shock, sliding the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly. We both look at it sparkling in the sunlight for a moment, and then Lorenzo reaches for me, pulling us both to our feet as he draws me in for a long, lingering kiss.
“I know you said you wanted to swim, and then—” He pulls back a little, giving me a searching look as he turns me towards the bed. “But what if we did that the other way around?”
I nod, speechless with desire, and lean in to kiss him again. “I like that idea very much.”
The next kiss takes my breath away. And the next, and the next, until there’s only the sound of our sighs and moans, and the whispered promises of love as Lorenzo presses me back into the bed, and all there is is the two of us together.
Forever.
Just as we were always meant to be.
