Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He winks and draws me out of the car, keeping ahold of my hand as he leads me toward the front entrance. I pause just before we reach the threshold and sniff the air.
“What is that?” I am completely mystified.
Cristiano seems pleased that I’ve noticed. “In the summer all the native trees scent the air here. Carob, almond, orange.”
I inhale deeply and sigh. “Oh my gosh. This needs to be a candle.”
He smiles. “Come on. I want to show you inside.”
Two antique doors are nestled beneath a dramatic arched opening. Once we step in, I take in the vaulted wood ceiling.
“This is a renovated finca, a three-hundred-year-old farmhouse I added on to,” Cristiano explains. “I originally bought the lot because of the olive grove and the view of the harbor. I intended to knock down this house and replace it with something new.”
I gasp like the suggestion is horrifying.
He smiles. “Fortunately I had to live in it for a while before I could afford to execute that plan, and in the meantime, I fell in love with the old home. My architect was the one to suggest we preserve it as best as possible. We eventually succeeded in adding to the home without losing any of its history. The lime plaster is original, as are the clay floor tiles and these wooden beams. Sabina wood from juniper trees. They’re native to the island.”
“Cristiano, it’s beautiful.” I shoot him a sly smile. “And not at all what I expected. Your yacht is so sleek and modern in every way.”
He chuckles. “If my boat were as old as some parts of this house, we would have sunk before we left the dock. In fact, I lived here for a few months at the start without any electricity.”
My eyes go wide. “Did you really?”
A shrug accompanies his lazy grin. “I was broke. I bought this place after I sold my first club. I had just enough money to pay back my investors and throw the rest toward my next venture. There was nothing left for experienced tradesmen. Eventually I started doing some things myself. Cleaning the old windows, replacing rusty hinges, making the house livable again.”
He leads me down the main hallway and my gaze sweeps across the original tile floors to the smooth plaster walls. There’s a natural progression between the old house and the addition; it’s obvious the two sections have been thoughtfully integrated. The aged tiles give way to oak floors sourced from a nearby home and almost as old as the original wood, he tells me. The ceilings rise up into a massive great room that encompasses the kitchen and living area.
Cristiano walks toward the three sets of French doors. “Out there, we added a terrace with a pool and an outdoor kitchen. It wraps around the back of the house.”
“Is there a view?”
Pride glimmers in his eyes. “The house looks out directly onto Port de Porroig. It’s a small harbor.”
A terrace overlooking the harbor!
This house is too romantic to be real. If I lived here, those doors leading outside would never close. I’d let the sea breeze in as often as I could.
This late, it’s too dark to see the view he mentioned. There’s only our reflection in the glass as Cristiano comes up behind me and slips an arm around my middle.
I tip my head back and smile, warning him, “I smell like liquor.”
He doesn’t care. He runs his nose along my pulse point, his voice quiet when he replies, “No, you smell like Isabel.”
I bask in the warmth of his body. “Did you bring me here just for a tour, or—”
“I thought you could sleep here tonight,” he says confidently.
I drape my hand over his so our fingers overlap, though my hand over his is wholly inadequate. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I thought you wanted to accomplish everything else on the bucket list before that.”
“That?” he presses, taunting me as his head dips and his lips move to the strap of my tank top. His chin nudges it aside so it slips down my shoulder.
“Us sleeping together,” I reply with a coy smile, enjoying his attention far too much.
He holds up his hand like he’s being sworn in to testify. “I can be a gentleman.”
Even while saying it, his other hand pulls me back against him.
I don’t know why I’m arguing against this. I don’t care about finishing the rest of the bucket list first. By all means, let’s skip to the good part.
Then Cristiano steps back with a little sigh. He twists me around, his fingers dip to my waist, and for a second he looks at me with the hungriest gaze I’ve ever seen. Pure want. Animalistic and wild.
My stomach tightens. I think he’s going to kiss me. In seconds I’ll be pressed into the glass doors behind me, his dominating body eclipsing mine. But he blinks and keeps his eyes closed for a second. When he looks at me again, the hunger is buried.