In Italy for Love

Chapter 6

6

If Alex had been able to think clearly, he would have seriously questioned the wisdom of bringing Julia back to his place – for more reasons than just the temperamental cat, who was thankfully nowhere to be found. As it was, he experienced only a vague sense of misgiving as the rest of him was overwhelmed by the lightness in his chest when she pressed kisses to his face.

She was leaving tomorrow, so it didn’t really matter what she thought, but he hadn’t brought a woman home here since… What if he did something terrible, like call her the wrong name? Were there photos anywhere? Keepsakes? Was there etiquette in these situations?

The few times he’d met someone with the mutual agreement that things would be short and casual, he’d made sure it wasn’t here in Cividale, where there were eyes at every window – pitying looks, usually. He hadn’t been a monk over the past three years, but tonight didn’t quite feel like the other times and Julia didn’t feel like a stranger, even though they’d just met.

They stumbled into his bedroom, all smiles and busy hands. He was drawn to the spot where her short hair brushed her shoulders and she gave a throaty, pleased laugh when he kissed her there. He liked the way her voice dropped and roughened.

Items of clothing ended up on the floor – he couldn’t quite remember who had removed what – and then he pulled her close and breathed her in. Wow, he’d needed this, to switch off from normal life for a night with no past or future, no consequences.

‘Your eyes remind me of chestnuts,’ he hummed, kissing her again to cover the words he hadn’t quite meant to say aloud.

‘Do you like chestnuts?’ she asked doubtfully, tugging him towards the bed.

‘Love them.’ They made it onto the bed and all he could feel was her and it was glorious.

‘I’ve never tried them.’

He reared up on his elbows. ‘What? How is that possible? I should find you some right n?—’

‘Not right now,’ she crooned, looping her arms around his neck and dragging him down so her lips were at his ear. ‘I’m interested in something other than chestnuts right now.’ When she dragged her teeth over his earlobe, goosebumps prickled all over him.

‘I could live on chestnuts for two months of the year,’ he murmured, digging his fingers into her hair and feathering his lips over her jaw – such a strong jaw.

She grinned. ‘Chestnuts and my eyes, right?’

With a deep chuckle, he said, ‘Right.’

‘My body too?’

‘Mmhmm,’ he agreed, his thoughts slipping. ‘And your jokes,’ he whispered, burying his face in her neck until she shuddered.

Her hands touched down on his shoulders, slipping around to his neck. ‘I should tell you… it’s been a while – for me. Just… so you know.’

‘Thanks for choosing me then.’ He skimmed the backs of his fingers over her cheek as he lifted onto his elbows to meet her gaze. ‘And tell me if you want to stop – at any time.’

Her hands ventured down his back, as a smile grew on her lips. ‘I don’t want to stop.’

He lost himself happily with her, almost believing he could be someone else – someone with a different life, another past and a carefree future. She was so soft and strong, open and full of smiles, and she delighted in every touch.

When her fingers gripped his hair tightly as her breath hitched and stalled, he was almost sad this sweet, impatient interlude couldn’t last forever, but he was on the edge as well. As the feelings snapped and washed over both of them, he fumbled for her cheek, needing to express… something – something more than how much he liked her chestnut eyes.

But as his breathing finally slowed, the sudden lethargy drained everything out of him and he collapsed next to her.

‘Huh, wow,’ she mumbled.

‘Yeah.’ He peered at her from under heavy eyelids. Her smile was smaller now and he would have laughed at her smugness if he had the energy.

‘Not bad for an accordion player,’ she said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek that was somehow just as devastating as the deep kisses they’d shared a few moments ago. Her gaze snagged on his upper arm and before he could distract her, she traced a finger over his tattoo. ‘What are these?’

‘Bay leaves?—’

A sudden crash from down the hall made Julia bolt upright. Alex tried to drag himself up, but his limbs felt like syrup.

‘Arco?’ she cried in alarm, and he pulled himself together to follow her as she snatched up her underwear and stumbled out of the room – too quickly for him to properly appreciate the glimpse of her long, long legs. Wow, she was stunning. ‘Arco!’ he heard her scolding the dog, a dismayed edge to her voice.

When he arrived in the kitchen, it was to find a windowsill planter on its side, soil spilling onto the floor, and a suspiciously innocent-looking dog hiding under the table, his eyes partially obscured by brown fur.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Julia said, scooping up soil with her bare hands while wearing only her bra and knickers.

He stilled her with a hand on her wrist. ‘Don’t worry. It’s my fault.’ He gestured silently towards the kitchen door – where a fluffy white tail extended from behind the wood, flicking occasionally in apparent annoyance at the intrusion. ‘I obviously didn’t look hard enough for him when we got home.’

‘I suppose I share the blame for distracting you,’ she said. ‘We’re lucky they stayed quiet this long.’

‘Very lucky,’ he agreed earnestly, only to find her grinning at him with a cheeky smile.

‘What’s her name?’

‘ His name is Attila.’

‘The Hun?’

‘I didn’t name him,’ Alex admitted before he’d thought it through. ‘But it suits him.’ He continued before she could voice the question he could see on her face. ‘Here. You’re getting soil everywhere.’

Taking her hands and gently washing them at the sink, wiping the smear from her forehead with a cloth, he pulled her close for a quick hug that was supposed to be tight and friendly, but there was far too much skin in the equation for that.

He didn’t have the words to describe what had happened that evening, but he suspected he would never forget it – forget her.

Even her name made him smile. Not the Italian Giulia, but Julia, as though she’d belonged here in a past life. Cividale had originally been named for Julius Caesar himself – Forum iulii. She was leaving tomorrow, but she’d spent tonight with him. He wasn’t sure how to explain to her how much he valued the gift of an evening outside of his usual reality.

So, he didn’t try. He just said, ‘I’ll clean it up. You don’t need to stand around in my cold kitchen in your underwear.’

She glanced around her as though seeing the kitchen for the first time, her eyes settling on the window and darting away again. Then her gaze fell to his chest, where it stuck for a few breaths until heat rose up his neck. She licked her lips and his skin was tingling and he suddenly had no idea where to go from here, what he wanted.

‘Do you want?—’

‘I suppose I should?—’

Her laugh this time was a little strained. She got to the end of her sentence first.

‘Go. I should go.’

Brushing past, she shook herself visibly and hurried back down the hall to his bedroom. He hesitated and when he finally made it back to the door to the room, she was stuffing her arms into the sleeves of her pullover. It was for the best.

‘I hope you don’t…’ It seemed he was still incapable of talking in complete sentences.

‘I don’t, Alex,’ she said with a faint smile, looking up. There was something he liked about the way she said his name: softly, almost carelessly, the way people wore their favourite items of everyday clothing.

‘Because… thank you.’

‘You don’t need to thank me,’ she assured him.

‘No, I mean, tonight… you… Not just sleeping together, although that was…’ Putane, sentences were long gone and now even words were a struggle. He took a deep, halting breath and looked away so he could try to explain himself. ‘Tonight was the best evening I’ve had in a long time.’

‘Me too,’ she agreed quietly.

As she shrugged into her jacket, he picked up Arco’s lead from where it lay discarded on the floor by the door and called the dog. Giving him a thorough rub and petting his curly head, he crooned softly to Arco in his native dialect.

‘I’m not sure Arco understands Friulian,’ Julia joked as she wound her light scarf around her neck. ‘I sure don’t.’

‘I don’t know how to talk to animals in English,’ he explained with a wry smile and one final pat for the dog. ‘I just told him to look after you.’

When she glanced at the dog, her expression tightened briefly with dismay – hinting at the vast array of topics they’d avoided tonight, even though it felt as though they’d shared everything. ‘We look after each other.’

Slipping past her to open the door, he only realised when the cool October breeze swept over his skin that he was still shirtless and wearing only his boxer shorts. His arm rose to his chest, as though that would help.

She ran her fingers roughly through her mussed hair and took Arco’s lead from Alex’s limp hand. ‘We won’t swap numbers, right? Because we’re both “not”.’

‘That might be for the best.’

‘Okay,’ she said slowly, as though she was trying to convince herself. ‘You… take care of yourself too,’ she said.

He just gave a single nod in reply.

Lifting her face, she pressed another kiss to his cheek. With a gulp, she dipped her gaze and kissed him on the lips, quick and sharp, as though she hadn’t quite meant to do it.

‘Good luck,’ he mumbled, words still insufficient.

‘Think of me sometimes?’ she said in a rush, her voice going up at the end.

‘Oh, I will,’ he assured her. It was his turn to grasp her jacket at the waist and press one more soft kiss to her mouth before he forced his fist open and stepped back. He stood there, his skin pebbling with goosebumps, and watched as she passed under the old persimmon tree, crossed the courtyard, and walked back out of his life.