Chapter 28

By the time Eduardo brought her to the hotel room, Sarah was tired, her feet ached, and a tightness pinched her back. She made a beeline for the king-sized bed and flopped onto a cloud of blankets. The mattress nestled her sore body and down pillows cradled her head. How had she survived four months in a lumpy, misfit bed?

She kicked off her shoes and stretched out her legs. Ha! Her feet didn’t even hang off the end. Sarah closed her eyes and relaxed. The dreamy pillow-top supported every square inch of her back, arms, and legs.

“Comfortable?” Eduardo asked.

A moan escaped Sarah’s lips, and she opened her eyes.

Eduardo stood above her, his chest raising and lowering with shallow breaths.

His gaze filled with the duskiness of desire, and a tension crept into Sarah’s muscles that not even the luxurious bed could relax. Was the tightness from her nerves? Excitement? Both?

With his gaze still fastened on hers, Eduardo reached for something next to the bed.

A wine chiller. Was that bottle of champagne there all along? Sarah narrowed her eyes. “You’re quite determined,” she teased.

“Nothing wrong with loosening you up a bit.” He grabbed the neck of the bottle, easing it from the ice.

“I think this bed is doing a fine job of that.”

“That good, eh?” In a swift motion, Eduardo slipped off his shoes, firmed his grip on the champagne bottle, and hopped over her. He landed beside her with a thump. “Ah”—he fell back onto the pillows—“you’re quite right. But who can resist a glass of champagne?”

“On an empty stomach?”

“Why don’t we order in?”

Sarah swallowed hard, unsure if she was ready for their alone time to start so soon. She nodded.

Grinning, Eduardo uncorked the bottle.

Sarah studied his hands as he worked—his strong grasp of the slick base and his gentle nudge of the cork. She shivered, her insides tingling like the champagne, ready to bubble over.

Eduardo freed the cork with a pop, and frothy foam spilled out, dripping over his hand and onto the bed.

Without saying a word, Sarah grabbed the fluted glasses from the nightstand.

Eduardo filled them.

Trading him a glass for the bottle, she returned the champagne to ice.

“To no interruptions.” Eduardo raised his glass.

“No interruptions.” She clinked his glass. She took a sip—enough to get a taste of its sweetness and to calm the uneasiness that grew in her belly, but not so much that she might forget everything the next morning. The longing in his gaze returned.

“So, any requests for dinner?” Eduardo sank into his elbow.

“Whatever you suggest.” Easing onto her side, she mirrored Eduardo’s position.

Eduardo lifted a brow, downed the rest of his drink, and tossed the empty glass on the far side of the bed. “How about an appetizer?” He danced fingers on her knee.

Lowering her gaze to the glass, she searched for a response. But chatter filled her head. Which pair of underwear am I wearing again? I did remember to put on the black, right? My bra—is the push-up feature obvious? And if the bra wasn’t right, would she be discarded as quickly as the glass?

Eduardo tapped fingers up her thigh and over her hip.

Sarah squirmed away. As she jumped to her feet, she spilled her champagne.

Eduardo stiffened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The lust in his eyes dimmed. “No…I…” Why couldn’t she push aside her insecurities? Why couldn’t she just enjoy herself? With a shaky hand, Sarah placed her glass on the nightstand and chewed her lower lip. Don’t screw up. She forced a smile. “I just need a second.” Then she dug inside her bag for the condom, placed it on the nightstand, and made her retreat to the bathroom.

“What’s this?” Eduardo asked.

Sarah stopped mid-step, and her stomach turned. Please, God, not the contraception conversation. She slowly turned back to face him.

Between two fingers, Eduardo held the shiny packet, staring at it with crinkled brows. “You only brought one?” He tossed the condom on the floor.

The queasiness in her stomach was replaced by a knot the size of Mount Vesuvius.

Eduardo stood, strode to the closet, and yanked out his suitcase.

Something rustled as he hunched over the bag.

He returned to the bed and set a bulk-sized box of condoms on the nightstand. “For you, I come prepared.”

Sarah erupted in laughter.

“What?” Eduardo shrugged. “As if one would be enough.” He trotted over. “You’re beautiful.” He grasped her hands and pulled her closer to the desk light. Extending his distance, he looked her up and down. His gaze lingered on certain spots: her neck, her breasts, and her hips.

With each pause of his gaze, the brown of his eyes grew richer, and the space between his breaths shortened. Sarah removed his glasses and lowered them to the floor.

Eduardo grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close, covering her mouth with his.

His body warmed her flesh, and she went limp in his arms. Sometime later, she awoke to the sound of the shower, but she didn’t open her eyes. She nuzzled into the sheets, and the lingering warmth of their entangled bodies encompassed her. Eduardo’s scent—so clean, so fresh—mixed with the sticky sweetness of their coupling greeted her like the aroma of a freshly steeped cup of tea. The muffled tune of the brindisi from La traviata sounded through the rush of water.

“Libiamo! Libiamo!” Eduardo sang.

Sarah pushed herself up on her elbow. Dusky streaks of light dipped in through the window. Puffs of steam escaped under the bathroom door. Eduardo’s melody continued.

Eduardo. Her smile deepened.

Eduardo. She reclined back on the bed.

Eduardo. She closed her eyes.

“Oh, Eduardo,” a husky voice whispered. Heat rushed to Sarah’s cheeks, and she tightened her jaw—the voice was hers. The hands that clawed Eduardo’s back, and drew him closer as he rocked gently back and forth, were hers, too.

She snapped open her eyes. Was she too passionate? Too reckless? She was the one who’d suggested they forgo the condoms after they’d blown through three. The barrier seemed unnecessary—she wasn’t worried about getting pregnant, and they’d discussed the disease issue before. She’d longed to be closer—to feel him in every possible way.

From the bathroom, Eduardo’s voice drifted to a whistle, also Traviata, but not the brindisi. He whistled the love duet.

Sarah relaxed the muscles in her face. No, she wasn’t overzealous—at least not by Eduardo’s standards. What was wrong with enjoying sex, anyway? Anna certainly did. Meredith, too.

So much time had passed—too much time—since she’d been intimate with a man. How many years had passed since she and Philip made love—since sex was more than a hasty chafing that coincided with Sarah’s ovulation?

A knock sounded at the hotel room door.

“Servicio!” a man shouted.

“Un momento!” She draped the comforter over herself and opened the door.

“Tu colazione.” The man pushed a cart into the room.

Order in. Sarah stifled a laugh, noticing for the first time a rumble in her stomach. They’d forgotten dinner completely.

As soon as she closed the door, she turned her attention to the food. Sliced meats and cheeses, crusty breads, and gooey pastries filled half of the cart. The other half contained steaming coffee, a pot of tea, and a carafe of milk. What should she try first? A meat and cheese sandwich? A pastry? Wait—was that a crock of Choctella? The growl grew even louder, and she smothered a croissant with chocolate spread.

Italians. Sarah took a bite and sweetness nipped her tongue. They love their food. What had Anna said about Italians? About sex and their food? She shoved another bite in her mouth and retrieved her phone. She pulled up Anna’s string of texts—all unanswered.

—How was it?—

—Wellllll?—

—Sarah?—

—Are you ignoring me?—

Sarah opened the messenger to reply. At the same moment, the shower stopped, leaving only Eduardo’s whistle echoing off the bathroom walls. Did she have time send a quick message?

The bathroom door creaked open.

I guess not. Sarah jumped back in bed, discarding the phone and croissant on the nightstand.

Eduardo emerged through the steamy vapor. “You’re up.”

Sarah nodded, her gaze hanging on him. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Eduardo emerged with beads of water sprinkled on his bare shoulders. His peppered hair was tightly coiled from washing. Her insides tingled, the feeling of bubbling over returning.

“I see breakfast arrived.” He grabbed a slice of cheese and a piece of bread and tore off a hunk of each with his teeth. “I told you we’d order in,” he said with his mouth full.

“Better late than never.”

“I think that can be said about more than just the food.” He winked, set down the bread and cheese, and settled on the edge of the bed. “Think you’ll be ready to catch the early train?”

She stretched her arms above before smoothing her hands over the comforter. “That would mean saying goodbye to this bed.”

Eduardo rested a hand on hers and drew his fingers over the back. “You know, my bed isn’t much different. Why don’t you stay with me?”

“Tonight?” She stared up at him.

“Whenever you want.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed her knuckles with his lips.

“What about my work?”

He shrugged. “I’ll drop you off.”

Sarah hesitated. What if someone saw her with him? Like the girls. Or Sister Maria.

“Don’t worry about Sister Maria.” Eduardo searched her expression. “Leave that to me.”

“Well, in that case…” Was she dreaming? How could things get any better?

Eduardo leaned in. “Mia bella cigna, what would I do without you?”

Sarah didn’t respond. His lips tickled her neck, and the essence of spice and freshness wafted from his hair. But in that moment, she knew exactly what she would text to Anna.

You were wrong. Sex is way better than the food.