This makes Othello stop mid-chew. He pauses before he snaps another grape from the vine and pops it in his mouth. “He must have been some ex,” he said.
“She thinks so. I think she just got excited that he is back in Savannah. She’s trying to play matchmaker.”
“Is that what you want?” He asks, face serious and, dare I say, disappointed.
I shake my head. “No. I have no desire to go backward.”
Othello pops another grape in his mouth, and suddenly, I’m jealous of a piece of fruit. I grab a glass of juice and gulp it down.
“Good,” he smiles. “Because today is a free day and I have some things planned for us.”
“Oh really? Like what?”
“Well, I was thinking we can cross some things off your vacation agenda.”
My mouth drops, and I give Othello a look of surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I have the chocolate farm booked for us.” He checks his watch. “We have to be there in like an hour.”
“What?” I exclaim in disbelief.
The chocolate farm is the one excursion I’ve been talking about since we met on the plane. I set my juice on the tray and then wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tight.
“You didn’t have to do this?”
“I felt like I needed to. I want to bring some normalcy to your trip. You deserve this vacation to go at least a little the way you planned. I mean, I know I can’t give you the trip you originally planned, but I’d like to give you some of it back.”
My cheeks grow warm under my blush, and I hug Othello tight. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. What would your vacation be if you came all the way to Maui and didn’t visit thechocolatefarm?” he says in a mocking tone.
I laugh, burying my face in his chest.
“Okay, now you're making fun of me.”
“Just a little.”
I pull away enough to look at him. “Thank you,” I say wholeheartedly.
“For what?”
“Just remembering the little things. You really have been paying attention to me this entire trip, haven’t you?”
“More than you know.”
Othello is back in my space, hands around my waist, pulling me close. I’d been ready to snatch the cheese danish off that tray and indulge, but I find myself wanting something else a little more.
Othello’s tongue parts my lips, and we kiss. Slow and languid.
“Aren’t we going to be late for the excursion?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, my lips still lingering on his.
“We have time.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out as a soft moan instead.
“Can I kiss something I’ve been thinking about all morning?” he murmurs against my mouth before kissing me deeper. I pull away just enough to look into his eyes, nodding as I bite my bottom lip.
Othello’s kisses trail down my neck, to my collarbone, and then to my chest. My heartbeat turns reckless when he cups my breast in his hand and takes it into his mouth, sucking my hard, budded nipple before grazing it ever so softly with his teeth.
