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She shakes her head, places her hand squarely on my chest, and pushes me back into the bathroom. She drops the mop and promptly locks the door.
“Alessia,” I warn, but she cups my face and pulls my lips to hers. Her kiss is soft and sweet but demanding—surprisingly demanding. As her tongue finds mine, she presses her body against me, and I close my eyes and wrap my arms around her, delighting in her kiss. Her fingers slide into my wet hair, and her lips become more insistent as she tugs. It’s a wake-up call to my impatient dick.
Hell. We’re going to fuck.
In an Albanian bathroom with poor plumbing.
I pull away so we can catch our breath, and Alessia’s eyes are dark and full of promise but also uncertainty.
“What is it?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“No.” I clasp her face and gaze into her eyes. “God, as much as I want you, we’re not fucking in this bathroom. Your parents aren’t far away, and I don’t have a condom. Now tell me, what’s wrong? Is it the wedding?”
“Yes.”
I blow out a breath in relief and release her. “Yeah. What your father’s arranged—I don’t know if it’s… legitimate.”
“I know. My parents want to discuss the, um…arrangements with us in the afternoon. I don’t know what to do. I think it’s because my father thinks I am with child. He’s managed to pull the strings.”
An image of her dad as an evil puppet master with Alessia and me as his marionettes comes to mind, making me chuckle. “We say ‘pull some strings.’”
She repeats the saying and gives me a shy smirk.
“You still don’t mind that I correct your English?”
“Never.”
Okay. Let’s go with Plan A. Here goes.
“Let’s leave. You don’t have to stay here. You’re an adult. You’re not beholden to your father—whatever he thinks. We can go to Tirana. Get a passport for you and arrange a visa. Then we can fly back to the UK. We’ll get married there. And your parents can join us for the wedding.”
Alessia’s eyes widen as several emotions flit across her face. Hope seems to win, and I think she’s been considering this possibility herself.
But then her face falls, so I draw her into my arms and hold her. “We’ll figure this out.” I kiss her hair.
She peers up at me, and I think she’s inwardly debating whether to ask me something.
“What?”
“No. It’s okay.”
“What?” I insist.
She swallows. “My mother.”
“What about your mother?”
“I can’t leave her here with him.”
“You want to bring her with you?”
“Yes.”
Fuck. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
Alessia looks stunned. “You are saying yes?”
“Yes.”
She lights up like Christmas, as if she’s finally unburdened of all her woes. She flings her arms around my neck. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she gasps between kisses and starts to laugh and cry.
Oh, baby.
“Don’t cry. I’d do anything for you. You should know that. I love you.” I wipe her tears away with my thumbs as I caress her face. “And like I said, we’ll figure this out. We’ll make a plan.”
Her eyes, dark with adoration, peek up at me as if I have all the answers to the eternal questions of the universe and a welcome warmth spreads through my chest. Her trust and faith in me are bewildering, but damn, it feels good.
And I know, for her, I’d do anything.
Chapter Two
It’s dark outside as I stumble toward the bed and attempt to peel off my sweater, but it fights back and finally gets the better of me. “Shit!” I fall on the bed and stare blindly at the blurred ceiling.
Oh God. Why did I drink so much?
After an afternoon of wedding planning and trying not to lose my temper, the raki was a mistake. The room swims, and I shut my eyes, praying for sleep.
I surface from a dreamless sleep. It’s quiet. And bright.
No. Dazzling.
I scrunch my eyes closed, then open them cautiously as pain slices with a laser’s precision through my brain. I shut them again quickly.
Hell. I feel like shit.
Pulling the covers over my head to shut out the light, I try to remember where I am, who I am, and what happened last night.
There was raki.
Shots and shots of raki.
Alessia’s father was exceedingly generous with his lethal, local intoxicant. I groan and flex my fingers and toes and am pleased to find that they still work. I reach out beside me, but the bed is empty.
No Alessia.
Drawing down the covers, I slowly open my eyes and ignore the sharp jab to my frontal lobe as I survey the room. I’m on my own, but my tired gaze rests on the little dragon nightlight on the table beside the bed. Alessia must have brought it back from London. The thought is touching.
Also, was she here? Last night?
Vaguely, I remember her joining me, and maybe undressing me. I lift the covers. I’m naked except for my underwear. She must have undressed me.
