Page 8 of The Sting of Love
“No, you’re the first.” His gaze drops down to my hands and scans over my fingers. I think he’s looking for a ring. When his gaze flicks back up to meet mine, there’s a smile in his eyes. “How old are you?”
“Isn’t it rude to ask a lady her age?” I’m trying to be cool and nonchalant too. He notices and smiles running his gaze over my face.
“Not if you’re making sure she’s legal.” His eyes glow with a lust filled inner fire that fills me with undeniable sexual anticipation I can’t resist. It makes my body heat up again. “Wouldn’t want my ass thrown in prison for being with a minor.”
I laugh. I have to. There’s no way I look underage in any way. I’m pretty certain that with all I’ve been through I’ve aged.
“A minor. You think I look like a minor?”
He quirks a brow. “It’s a compliment sweetheart. Same as being ID’d when you buy a drink or a pack of cigarettes. So hey, why don’t you put me out of my misery, Willow.”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Thank fuck, although… you don’t look twenty-eight, Bella.”
I like how he swaps between calling me Bella and sweetheart, and I’m absorbing the attention this delicious man is giving me. Attention I desperately crave.
“Thank you. That’s quite a compliment. Do I get to find out how old you are?”
“Thirty-five,” he answers.
“You don’t look like thirty-five.” I pegged him at being either the same age as me or in his early thirties.
“Thank you,” he answers, giving me a clipped nod then that lust filled desire comes back to his eyes. “Come outside with me.”
He moves from behind the counter and starts walking toward the archway. I set my glass down and follow. We go outside and stand on the balcony, and the cool night air lifts my hair and caresses my cheeks.
“You said you wanted fresh air,” he points out. The soft light from the moon highlights the outline of his face, showing the sharp angles and planes as he smiles.
“Yeah. This is nice,” I agree.
“Why did you need fresh air?”
I gaze at him and note how curious he seems. The question is expected since it’s obvious something must have happened to send me out here by myself.
“I had some stuff happen and I needed to clear my head,” I explain.
“Sorry to hear. Well, you came to the right place. When you come to Bel Posto, you forget the shit and do whatever you want to do for the night. Be whoever you want to be and be with whomever you want to be with.” His eyes hold me in place, and I’m frozen in the lure of his words.
They sound like freedom. Freedom from the problems that have caused me to lose myself over the last few months. If I’m honest though, I think I lost myself long before. I think there was a point too when I stopped loving William and started doubting why I was with him. The reason why I’m so mad at the situation is that I’m mad at myself. There’s no way I should have had doubts like that and walked down an aisle to marry anybody, then have him dump me.
“People actually do that here? Do whatever they want?” I don’t know why I bother to ask. Aunt Lurlene is exactly like that. She always has been, and that’s why she’s here.
Is that why I’m here too? Last week, I packed my bag and jumped on a plane and headed to Sicily. There must have been something in my subconscious mind that told me I’d find the refuge I was seeking by doing so.
His gaze intensifies again, and as he tilts his head to the side, his eyes shimmer against the moonlight.
“Yeah.”
“Do you?”
“I’m doing it now.” His teeth look even whiter in the subtle light.
“What? By hanging out here with me?”
“Yeah. What about you, Bella, do you want to give it a try?” He reaches forward and runs a finger over my chin, lingering at the edge of my cheek. A tremor of heat lances through me at his touch. “All you have to do is forget what sent you here.”
“Could it be that simple?” I wish it were.
