Page 69 of Chasing Caine
“I love you, Samantha.” It came out as a long sigh, floating away with the wind. I slid a hand up to her neck, brushing along the jawline with my thumb.
She stared and she blinked. The words didn’t come, but the kiss did. Like in Capri. Tender. Paradise.
“Excuse me,” came a female voice nearby. Very nearby. “Can you find somewhere else to do that?”
Samantha separated enough to look at me, edging off my lap with a grin. “That’s what I told him.”
I shot her a smirk back, not looking at the woman who disapproved of our behavior or the man standing next to her. “Bella, we’re in Italia. The polizia would surely arrest me if I didn’t kiss those lips at least a thousand times a day.”
The man with the interrupting woman whispered, “He’s good.”
The woman huffed, the man laughed, and they left with their two young teenagers.
Samantha laughed as well. “Can you bank those kisses? Because I’m pretty sure we’ve kissed enough for a month.”
“But we’ll be apart for three.” I stood, brushing dust off my shorts, and offered her a hand. “I need to bank far more.”
She took my hand, grimacing as she stood.
I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Time to lighten the mood. “However, today, there is a grotto to be seen and more trail. Shall we be off?”
“We shall.”
When she leaned over to pick up her pack, I took the opportunity to smack her luscious, round ass. “Or we could head back the way we came, return to the villa, and do everything that woman was afraid we might do right here.”
She rolled her eyes, slinging the pack on her shoulders. With a growl, she said, “Grotto, Ferraro.”
Hadwenotbeentold about the grotto, I would have missed it. My adventure-minded girlfriend may have gravitated to it, but not me. The entrance was little more than a gash in the rocks, dropping toward the water. An ancient stone wall topped one side, long grasses and bushes obscuring what could almost pass for stairs cut into the cliffside.
The gap between the rocks was only wide enough for two people to squeeze past each other, and it was precarious. In some places, we had to sit on the ground and inch our way along. In others, ancient, knotted ropes hung to help in the descent.
Samantha’s smile grew larger by the moment. “It’s not quite rock climbing, but pretty close.”
I helped a couple lift their son from one rock to another in a spot with a ladder too tall for the child. Samantha pointed out places to grip the wall as we progressed, explaining crimps, pinches, and slopes. With her guidance, the process was far smoother than it would have been otherwise.
She sucked in a deep breath as the space opened up around us to reveal the base of the cliff. She paused with one hand braced on a boulder next to her. “Antonio, it’s beautiful.”
Water rushed in over the low rocks, a few feet below the bottom stairs and entrance to the small caves. A huge limestone sea stack erupted from the water. Tiny compared to the Faraglioni rock formations in Capri but looming over us ominously. The rocks were uneven, pools of water dotting the edge of the grotto.
When she failed to move, I took the lead, ushering her with me. There was only so far you could walk without getting your feet wet. “Come, let’s explore.”
It was nearing five o’clock. The hike had been slow going and we’d cuddled far longer than I’d expected. In the distance, more speedboats and a small ferry motored between the peninsula and Capri. We’d passed a half-dozen people leaving as we came down, no doubt because of the time. It was at least a two-hour hike back. We were racing the sunset and had not purchased flashlights. A couple sat on a blanket at the entrance to a cave, packing up the remains of a meal. They waved and smiled at us.
“Let’s sit,” she said, lowering herself onto the stone stairs near the water’s edge. From the bottom step, it was a two- or three-foot drop to the exposed rocky sea floor.
I joined her, waggling my eyebrows as we both removed our backpacks. “We could strip down and go for a swim.”
She laughed and nudged me with a shoulder. “Maybe if we were alone, but this isn’t exactly a private spot.”
As if on cue, the couple stood and folded their blanket. They passed us on their way to the crevice which led to the top of the cliffs, the man winking at me. In stilted Italian, he said, “Enjoy.”
I reached to my back and pulled my shirt off with practiced speed. “You were saying?”
Samantha shook her head. “You go ahead. I’ll watch.”
“No, no.” I stood and unbuttoned my shorts, grabbing her hands and pulling lightly.
She resisted but wouldn’t win this game of tug-of-war.