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‘You writers,’ Marco teases. ‘Never happy unless you’re working. I don’t think anything or anyone could compete with Achille Infuriati right now.’ He nudges me with his elbow.
‘I’m sorry about the other day,’ I blurt out.
Now Marco looks away, towards the arched colonnade on the opposite side of the courtyard. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The other day, when… I got scared. I don’t know why,’ I say. ‘I can’t explain it. You didn’t do anything wrong, but—’
‘It’s okay, Tori.’ His voice is gentle. ‘I’m the one who should apologise. I misread the situation and made you uncomfortable. If I could take it back, I would.’
‘But you didn’t.’ The words break out of me – I can’t stop them. ‘You didn’t misread at all. I wanted to kiss you. I was enjoying it.’
Marco looks at me now. His expression is wary but he’s smiling just a little, just enough. ‘You were?’
‘Yes.’ My heart’s in my throat, but it’s good to say it. It feels right. ‘My reaction had nothing to do with you. You can’t imagine how badly I wanted to… I just get these moments of panic. Like sudden-onset shame. They come out of nowhere and they ruin anything even slightly fun.’
‘Is it to do with your ex?’
And just like that, all my new-found courage drains away. The last thing I want to talk about, the last person I want to bring into this beautiful place, is Duncan. ‘Well…’
‘You don’t have to tell me about it,’ he says. ‘I think I might have an idea anyway.’
‘Really?’
He sighs. ‘Chiara isn’t an indiscreet person. Well, no, let’s put it this way – Chiara doesn’t set out to be an indiscreet person, but she mentioned a couple of things about that guy that made me think he didn’t treat you well.’
‘He didn’t hit me or cheat on me.’ I echo Charlie’s words.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Marco says, suddenly fierce. ‘I grew up with a cold-hearted asshole for a father and a mother who was always looking over her shoulder. If he did that to you, if he made you feel like you had to be frightened or ashamed, then he’s a cruel fucker and I’m glad you got away from him.’
His compassion is a wonderful shock. ‘Then you understand?’
Marco puts his hand to my cheek and it’s all I can do not to lean into it, to rub myself against it like a cat. ‘Of course I understand,’ he says.
This time there’s no question of who makes the first move. I touch my lips to his and he responds, kissing me warmly. It feels so good that I almost tense up, expecting the shame to flood in. But it doesn’t come. There’s only joy, joy and relief and the marvel of his lips against mine, the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of him. I press myself against him and open my mouth to his and he draws me into his arms; his hand slides across my back just where my top has ridden up, and his fingers brush bare skin. A bolt of lust goes through me and I shiver.
‘You okay?’ Marco murmurs into my hair. ‘Just say if it’s too much.’
‘It’s good,’ I say, trying to catch my breath. ‘Believe me. But maybe…’
‘What is it?’ He’s breathing hard too, and it dawns on me with a thrill of pleasure that he’s as excited by this as I am, that he wants me like I want him. ‘Tell me,’ he says.
‘You said you don’t have to be in Florence until tomorrow afternoon, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Then maybe we could stay here until then. In Siena.’
For a moment, he studies me. And then he smiles, a slow-spreading smile. ‘You want to go to a hotel?’
I’m blushing to the tips of my fingers, but I’m long past being coy. ‘I do. I mean, if you do.’
‘Oh, I really do.’ He rubs the back of his neck. ‘I just wish I could be that guy, you know, that smooth guy who says:hey, I know this great little place, let me take you there.But I don’t know Siena that well.’ He breaks into his familiar grin. ‘Also, I’m just not that smooth.’
‘Smooth is overrated.’ I say. ‘Anyway, I have a system. What time is it?’
Marco checks his watch. ‘Half past four.’
‘Good enough. Take me for a spritz and I’ll explain.’
