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TATE
Vatican City. It was unreal. Wren was mesmerized by the art, the architecture, the beauty of the entire place.
The Sistine Chapel was just... mind blowing.
We walked in and Wren was at a loss for words; good thing too since you weren’t allowed to speak in there.
Or take photos.
But, I may have sneakily taken a few for her.
She caught me and raised an eyebrow, so I gave her an innocent grin and continued admiring the ceiling. The detail was incredible.
By the time we left the chapel, my neck was sore and cramped from craning my head back for so long. I really felt for Michelangelo. Poor dude spent four or five years in the position. Guy must have had all sorts of neck and back problems after that. I hoped he was compensated for it.
“What did you think?” I asked Wren when we returned to the hotel.
“It was incredible, Tate. I loved every minute of it. And I think I got a pretty good selfie with the pope too.”
She handed her phone to me, and I laughed. She was blowing a kiss to the left and had angled her phone in front of the jumbo screen so it looked like the pope was on the receiving end of it. “Lucky bastard,” I muttered.
“Aww don’t be jealous. You get the real thing,” she said as she kissed my cheek. “But right now, I need a bath and a wine and to relax. Everything hurts,” she groaned and walked into the bathroom.
I poured her a wine and grabbed a beer from the fridge before taking them both into the bathroom.
Wren was sitting on the side of the tub in a bathrobe letting the water flow over her hand as it filled. She smiled sweetly at me and took the wine from my grasp.
“I’ll leave you to it.” I lifted my chin toward the door, indicating that I was going to leave, but she reached out her hand and wrapped her fingers around my wrist.
“Stay,” she asked, placing her wine down.
I nodded, and she stood up, slipped off her robe and climbed into the tub.
There was a heaviness in the air. Like a fog had settled over us and something cold was gripping at my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that when we left tomorrow, all this would be over.
I peeled off my clothes and slid into the water behind Wren. Reaching for the loofah, I ran it gently over her skin, washing her back and shoulders, chest, stomach, her thighs.
Wren sighed and linked her fingers with mine.
Did she feel it too? The weirdness in the air. The tension. The fear that it was all an illusion and tomorrow we’d go back to reality and realize this entire trip was a dream.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she sucked in a trembling breath.
“Me either.” I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and gripped her hips, turning her to face me.
“Things are going to change when we get back, aren’t they?”
I ran my fingers through her hair, brushing the strands out of her face and cupped her cheek. “They don’t have to.”
She gave me a sceptical look as though she didn’t believe me.
“What do you want?” she asked, fear in her eyes as she chewed on her bottom lip and studied me.
“Something I’ve never wanted before,” I told her truthfully.
“What’s that?”
“Pre-scheduled pizza deliveries. Creepy doll’s head wine stoppers in my bar.” I kissed her cheek. “Purple lacy thongs hanging from my ceiling. Slumber parties in the swimming pool.”
Her smile was soft and hopeful, but she narrowed her eyes and glared at me accusingly. “You like me.”
“I do.” I laughed.
Wren tapped her lip. “Well see, here’s the problem. I already have one lover, we’ve been pretty steady for a long time now,” she mused, and I rolled my eyes. “I can’t just end things.”
“I’m willing to share.” I tilted my face up and pulled her bottom lip between my teeth.
“Do you think it’s possible to be in love more than once simultaneously?”
“No. But I’ll make you love me more.”
“Think you can put a lid on your jealousy at least twice a week and let me have my fling?”
“Only if I get invited.”
Her eyes widened and she gasped. “You want to watch? Kinky.” She slapped my chest and laughed briefly before her eyes sobered and a serious expression took over her face. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Tate.”
I stared at her. She never swore. Well, except for when I had my face between her legs.
“I’m serious. Don’t hurt my heart. There’s not much left of it, but if you want it, it’s yours.” For the first time since knowing her, she looked fragile, breakable, and so beautiful that I wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe.
“I want you in my life. In my bed. In my kitchen wearing fuzzy socks. I want your brand of crazy; I need it. And if you give me your heart, I’ll cherish it and keep it safe and never break it.”
She studied me with narrowed eyes, pushing a finger into my chest. “You love me.”
I winced and lifted my shoulder and made a non-committal noise before pinching my thumb and forefinger together and squinting at them. “Little bit.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay what?” I didn’t ask anything, did I?
“Let me sprinkle my crazy all over your life.”
I chuckled and brought her mouth to mine. “Can’t fucking wait.”