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Tristan directs the car toward one of the main roads leading out of the city. He’d handed me a pair of sunglasses before slipping his own back on. Mine is an expensive designer brand, and I wonder if he got it just for me.
If he did, that’s a lot of money for someone who just got laid off.
Not that he looks like he has any money problems. With the sleek rented convertible, his clothes, his attitude…he looks like a movie star in his prime.
We cross the Arno, then we’re speeding on the highway, the breeze blowing in my hair as the countryside flies by. Little white houses gleam in the afternoon sun, lone villas sit quietly on grassy hillsides and bursts of sunflowers border the highway on both sides. I inhale the fresh country air, admiring the rolling hills spread out in all directions. In its own way, nature is the truest and most beautiful art.
Beside me, Tristan has his fingers splayed on the steering wheel. There’s something so calm, confident, focused and controlled about him.
What would it feel like to have his intense attention focused only on me?
I pull in an excited breath.
“Too windy?” Tristan notices the slight movement, and his brow furrows as he glances at me.
“No, I’m fine.” I was fantasizing about sex with you.Your hands on my body, your lips on mine…
His attention goes back to the road, and I wonder how he would react if I told him exactly what I had been thinking. Would he show me just what his touch can do to me?
The drive takes a little more than an hour, then we are in Sienna, a magnificent little city with its own attractions.
We spend the next few hours visiting the cathedral, the fascinating crypts, and then up to the facciatone, a tower from where a stunning view of the entire city spreads out below us.
“I feel like I’m in a scene from an illustrated fairy tale,” I tell Tristan. “That happens a lot in these old cities.”
“Change the costumes and it’s easy to see the pied piper leading poor kids away through the streets,” Tristan says.
“Or citizens trooping to celebrate the birth of a princess, soon to be cursed to sleep for a hundred years once she turns eighteen.”
“Those dark stories. Simple on the surface, complicated ideas about human nature once you go deep into them.”
“I know! It’s the same with art. Sometimes, a painting isn’t just a painting, but a whole philosophical treatise on human nature.”
“True.” Tristan looks thoughtful. Then his eyes settle on my face and my heart does a funny slam against my chest. “Do I get to be part of your fairytale scenes?”
I shrug. “Maybe, as the handsome prince.”
An eyebrow goes up as he angles his body closer to mine. So close, I can feel his warmth, and something more, the intense sensual pull that draws me to him. “Does he get a kiss from the princess?” he asks.
I wrinkle my nose, trying not to blush and smile. “Who says I’m the princess?”
“I do.” He touches a finger to my cheek, and I gaze up at him, wanting nothing more than the kiss I can see promised in his eyes.
It happens slowly. His face moves closer and, after what seems like an excruciatingly long wait, he brushes his lips against mine, only for the shortest moment before straightening again. My eyes are closed, my hands on his chest, and my senses clinging to the feel of him, the clean scent of his skin in my nostrils and the taste of his lips on mine.
I want him to kiss me some more.
“Promise you’ll do that again soon,” I say softly.
There’s a teasing quirk in his smile. “Yes, princess,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
CHAPTER11
TRISTAN
Cora places her hand in mine as we climb down from the viewing area.
Promise me you’ll do that again soon.
