Page 47 of Capri

Something worth living in the moment for.

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“Holy shit. That was incredible!”I breathe out, exiting the chairlift and meeting Jones by the beverage shack to the side. “The island is even more beautiful from the air.”

He pulls me into a hug and hums, “Mmm, I missed you.”

I look at him. “It’s been fifteen minutes, if that.”

“Fifteen too long. Let’s get you something to drink.”

The butterflies in my stomach take flight, consuming my girly parts and sending my heart rate into uncharted territory.

I love his attention to me.It’s fatal.

Who knew something so far out of reach could feel so damn good?

Securing our sparkling waters, I follow Jones through a small, wooded area with stairs leading to the top of the cliff we coasted. We’re surrounded by gulf seas on both sides, caging us into Capri’s natural beauty. Jones guides me to the farther side, opposite of where tourists are gathered and taking photos of the views.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep up.

“Straight ahead.”

Branches and crushed limestone crunch beneath our feet before a soft opening appears up ahead.

“Come on,” Jones reaches for my hand, carefully helping me under the stubborn branches.

And I thought the other view was great. It’s a shame the chairlift doesn’t guide its customers over this side of the cliff because, wow.

It’s breathtaking. “There are no words,” I say, taking it in.

“Majestic, isn’t it?” Jones asks, and I nod.

That’s a light term. The sun is starting to set, drawing attention to the colorful homes along the coast with lights illuminating across the water. Gondola boats sail along the shore, shuttling couples around. On this side, you can see all of Capri below—the city and the nightlife creating something just as beautiful as only the seas.

It’s so different from back home.

Timber Heights is a small beach town, but it’s quaint, and the locals aren’t as friendly as they are here. In Capri, open arms welcome you no matter where you visit, as if you’re family.

It’s an island where no one is a stranger.

I can see why Jones would want to live in a place so embracing.

Not realizing I have yet to take in the grounds of the cliff, I turn and find Jones a few feet away, his eyes dilating with something different than fondness of the city.

Pure want.

He’s seated on a large piece of limestone with his legs spread and hazy eyes set on me.

A million questions run through my head: Is he okay? Is he turned on right now? Should I be brave and tease him? Or should I see if he comes to me?

“Come here, Capri.” Well, he answered that for me. I’m much too greedy for his praise to say no.

“Here I come,” I tell him, my voice breathy with desire as I walk toward him.

Reaching his front, the gravity of this moment starts to set in.

I’m about to have sex with another man. A man who is not my ex-husband, and I’ve never been more ready for that. At least, I’m hoping that’s where this is going.

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