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TATE.
I had so many plans for our last day in Florence. I wanted to take Wren sightseeing and sip Italian wine in the sun. But none of that happened.
Was I disappointed?
Hell fucking no.
We didn’t leave my bed, except to get Wren food. She worked up quite an appetite.
Instead of exploring Florence, we explored each other’s bodies until we were well acquainted with every freckle, dimple, line and hair. Instead of sipping wine under the sun, we got drunk on each other.
A mass of naked limbs, soft moans, touching hands, sweet lips.
As promised, I made Wren swear. Over and over.
I finished packing my suitcase and wheeled it over to Wren’s room to see if she was ready.
She’d snuck out of my bed early this morning to shower and pack, and it took all my self-control not to drag her into the shower with me.
Wren greeted me in a pair of pizza leggings, and a gray sweatshirt. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. Her eyes were dark, with bags under them, and her lips puffy from too many kisses. And she’d never looked better, except maybe when she was naked under me.
“Ready?” I asked and received a scowl in response.
I chuckled and walked over to her bed where her suitcase was laying, over-flowing once again with clothes, and zipped it up.
“Thank you.” She gave me a sarcastic smile and yawned.
“I have one more surprise for you before we go home,” I said, dragging both our cases to the elevator.
“If it’s joining the mile-high club, you better get me liquored up first,” she said and leaned her head on my chest. My hand came to rest on the nape of her neck and I chuckled into her hair.
“No, that’s not it. But don’t tempt me.”
We got the lift downstairs, and I checked us out before wheeling our cases out the front to the waiting driver. Opening the door for Wren, I climbed in beside her. She snuggled against my arm, her hand on my thigh, not even mentioning that it was a limo this time instead of a town car.
The driver got in and started the engine.
‘Rome, James,” I called to the driver. He saluted me in the mirror before raising the privacy glass.
“How do you know his name is James?” Wren asked, stumping me for a moment.
I licked my lips and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t.”
“Then don’t you think he might get offended that you got his name wrong?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because his name is Stefano. And Rome James is a play on words.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve never heard the saying Home, James?”
She shook her head. “Well, it’s a saying, but I switched it to Rome James.”
“Oh, because we’re in Italy.” She chuckled. “Very clever.” She patted my chest in a patronizing way.
“No. Well, yes. But mostly because we’re going to Rome.”
Wren sat up so fast she almost headbutted me. “We are?”
“How else are you going to get a selfie with the pope?”
Her eyes lit up and she smashed her lips against mine, sweeping in with her tongue and taking all my self-control. I gripped her hips and pulled her onto my lap.
I’d never get enough of her.
The way her body fit mine. The little noises she made. The way she kissed. Her taste. Her touch. Her smile.
. . .
Rome was... Well, it was hot and busy and dirty. Really fucking dirty. The streets were lined with rubbish. It was gross. I wanted a shower the moment we got out of the car, but I guessed that’s what happens when millions of tourists wandered through those streets every year.
Our driver had dropped us at our hotel, and Wren practically ran up to the room to dump her luggage, barely stopping to change into a pair of shorts before dragging me out onto the street.
“Come on, the pope is waiting.” She linked her fingers with mine and dragged me down the street. I laughed and pulled her to a stop. She swung our hands between us and leaned in.
“I bought us tickets to check out the Vatican on Wednesday,” I told her.
“And the Sistine Chapel?” Her eyes sparkled and she couldn’t hide the excited, hopeful smile.
I lowered my eyes and tried to sound apologetic, “I knew there was something I forgot.”
“Oh.” Wren shrugged and her smile fell. Her voice soft and disappointed, she said, “Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course we’re going to the Sistine Chapel. Do you really think I’d do that to you?”
She grinned and pressed a kiss to my lips. “So, what now then?”
“There is so much to see. But,” I looked at my watch, “Are you hungry?”
“Are you buying me pizza?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’m hungry.”
“Let’s go.”
I turned Wren in the opposite direction, and she gasped. She hadn’t seen it when we walked out of the hotel. Though I didn’t know how she missed the Colosseum. It was huge. Towering. Crumbling. Overpowering. It gave me a creepy feeling, but it was an incredible sight.
“Whoa.”
“Our room overlooks it.” I pointed up to the building behind us.
“This is amazing. Let’s go.” She practically ran down the street.
“I thought you were hungry.”
“But the Colosseum...Come on.” She pulled on my hands like an impatient child.
“It will be there tomorrow when we have tickets. You want to wait in that line?” I nodded in the direction of the thousand-plus people lining the street in the sweltering heat.
“Have we got tickets?”
I just gave her a blank stare. “Of course we have tickets.”
“You really have thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Except where to eat.”
We wandered around a little more with Wren always heading back in the direction of the Colosseum. It was almost as though there was a magnetic pull. She had to be close to it and have it in sight at all times. She was in awe.
Eventually she stopped and shrugged. “Let’s eat here.”
“Where?”
“Here.” She glanced at the tables and chairs on the pavement.
“At the subway station?”
“They have food, don’t they? And look at the view.” She spread her arms in a wide gesture at the Colosseum which was directly across the road.
I thought we’d find somewhere a little nicer to go. More private. Classy. Not sitting by the road where hundreds of people walked by every hour. I gave her an easy smile. “If you’re sure.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I am.”
We sat down at a small table that faced the Colosseum and admittedly, even though it wasn’t the nicest place to eat—there wasn’t even a visible kitchen, they were bringing food out from somewhere in the subway station—it was a pretty spectacular view, and the smile on Wren’s face was totally worth it.