Page 65 of Threads That Bind Us
It feels like everything is happening at once. It’s an effort to bite my tongue, to stop myself from adding one more thing to her plate. I have to remind myself that we have all the time in the world.
The flight from Rome to Bari is mercifully short and almost completely over land, which means Gwen spends most of the time staring out the window, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of the horizon and the bright blue waters of the Tyrrhenian and Adriatic.
We land in Bari, and it’s drier than I remember. The smell of the sea is sharp and soothing, and the afternoon sun feels familiar against my skin.
Once the airport car service takes us to the private lounge, we have a few minutes to spare before our luggage arrives. Gwen disappears into the bathroom with her carry-on.
We won’t see my family until tomorrow, but this afternoon still feels important. I want Gwen to enjoy herself. To feel welcome here, like this is a place she can see herself coming back to, maybe calling a second home. I try to put myself together a bit in the restroom, brushing my teeth and splashing cold water on my face, shaking off the lack of sleep as I step back into the lounge.
One of my mother’s drivers arrives, and we discuss my plans for the day until I hear the bathroom door swing open behind me.
I can’t help the way my jaw drops. She’s changed, no longer in comfortable clothes suited for a long flight, but into a white sundress covered in small, bright red flowers. They’re embroidered, not printed, making the fabric seem like it’s rippling with the petals. Her hair is tied up, exposing her neck and shoulders,soft tendrils loose and curling around her face. The dress ends mid-thigh, the long legs I’ve knelt in front of, kissed and bit and begged to open, on display.
She clutches her bag in front of her, rocking back and forth on her toes. After a few moments where I struggle to form cohesive thoughts, she blushes. Every inch of exposed skin, from her shoulders to her temples, burns brightly, and I want to follow the path of her flush with my tongue.
“It’s nice out.” She shrugs, still avoiding my gaze. “Is this okay? I brought something more formal for tomorrow, obviously, but I thought since it’s warm and…”
I don’t let her finish the thought. I’m across the room in an instant, pulling her body flush against mine and kissing her like she’ll give me the oxygen I need to function again.
Her lips part so easily for me, letting me in, demanding as much from me as I am from her. Her hands find the back of my neck, fingernails scratching into my scalp as she pulls herself up closer to me, standing on her toes. I can’t stop kissing her. Can’t stop gripping the fabric at her hip, or running my fingertips over the exposed skin of her back and neck. I’d spend the rest of my life in this airport lounge if it meant kissing her like this, warm and sun-soaked and beautiful.
She’s the one to pull away, her hands still wrapped around my neck possessively, making my blood hum.
“You like the dress?” she asks, her voice teasing.
I press my lips to hers again.
“I’m buying you a hundred of them,” I say, kissing up the column of her throat while she laughs. “In every color you can find.”
I don’t let Gwen unwrap herself from me as the driver returns from wherever she disappeared to and informs us that the car is ready. I only release her so she can slip into the back of the car, but my hand is on her thigh as soon as possible.
“I thought the airport was close to the city center?” she asks as we get onto the highway, headed north.
“My parents raised us in Bari, but our family home is in Trani,” I say, warmth and contentment spreading through me as I watch her take in the olive trees and grapevines. Her eyes light up, darting around like everything's moving too fast for her to soak up.We’ll come back, I want to tell her.So you can see everything.“Only about thirty minutes away.”
There isn’t much of a view of the sea on the drive, so when we get to Trani, I have the driver drop us near the port, telling Gwen to leave her bags.
Hand in hand, we walk along the docks, the blue and white boats knocking against their slips, soft waves lapping against the rocky shore. She asks about my family, and growing up somewhere so beautiful, and where else I’ve traveled. I tell her everything, because I can’t help myself. I want her to know every part of me. To know I trust her.
We find a trattoria and sit at one of the little outdoor tables, tucked under an awning so her shoulders don’t burn in the sun. Over fresh seafood and sweet wine, we never stop sharing and touching, our lips and hands and her foot against my leg under the table. All this time we’ve been together, and I’ve never found myself without something to say to her, without a reason to touch her.
We keep eating until we’re full, the wait staff kind and familiar, asking when I got back home and when they’ll see the other Costa troublemakers. The town is small enough that, even in the tourist-heavy summer months, the locals remember each other.
No one asks about my mother. I don’t know if that means we’ve kept our secret well or haven’t at all. I’m not sure it matters here.
The walk to the resort I booked for us is short and pleasant,the cool breeze picking up the strands of hair that have fallen out of their tie. She’s clearly exhausted, but there’s a relaxed smile on her face that feels brand new. I’ve never seen her so at ease.
The stone facade of the building radiates the warmth of the day as the sun sinks behind it. I take Gwen’s hand and press her fingers to my lips, trying to impress even a drop of what I feel for her into the motion. If it takes decades, I don’t mind. I’ll prove to her what we are.
I slip the room key from my pocket and lead Gwen to the central staircase. There are elevators here, but the beauty of the architecture of these buildings cannot be understated, and I’m desperate to admire her against the backdrop of my home.
When we reach our door on the top level, I greet the security guard that my father likely stationed. Trani is safe, but we’d be fools to believe our enemies didn’t know this is our home.
The penthouse is quiet, and despite the measures taken, I feel the need to sweep the suite, ensuring she’s safe while we’re here. When I’m reassured, I turn to find Gwen, but she’s not trailing behind me. The small kitchen and living room are empty, so I slip back into the bedroom. Through the bathroom’s open doors, I see her sitting on the edge of the clawfoot tub big enough to fit both of us with room to spare. Gauzy drapes framing the open window float in the warm breeze. The view is breathtaking; the sky bursts in oranges, pinks, and purples that are reflected in the still sea. Her hair is down, moving gently in the wind, exposing her shoulders to the wash of sunset.
I will prove to her that this is more than an advantageous agreement. Partners, friends,benefits, soulmates. Because I am too selfish to have less than all of her, to allow her to think she owns anything less than my soul.
I could stand here for a lifetime and watch this private painting in front of me, but I cross the room and trail my handdown her back, her smooth skin lighting me on fire from the inside out.