Are you serious?

The expression on his face told her he was.

She considered the possibility, felt something inside her hesitate.

“Think of the weight lifted if the public wedding isn’t filled with emotional stress.” He kissed her fingertips. “Please.”

She wanted to say yes, was about to utter the words, when she felt her head grow heavy. “How can we? There is no priest.”

“My captain has the authority, darling. On the deck, right now. I’ll pledge my life to you.”

“Oh, Alonzo.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, fully. Several seconds passed before he moved away far enough to whisper, “I love you, Gabriella. Make me the happiest man on the ocean and take my name.”

Could she? Why should they wait? They could do it all again in a few months . . .

She felt the boat tip, or maybe it was her. The whirlwind Alonzo was pushing her in was a vortex she didn’t feel she could avoid. With a giddy heart and a fuzzy head, she found herself nodding.

“Yes?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

After another kiss, he handed her the glass again and stood. “I’ll tell my captain and arrange everything.”

Gabi’s hands shook as she tilted the wine to her lips. She looked down to see her glass nearly empty. She glanced at the bottle and realized it, too, was almost gone.

Had she really just agreed to eloping?

She smiled, despite the twist in her gut. Making a decision on her own, without the guidance of her family, felt right. Besides, pushing up the date by a few months meant nothing.

Not really.

Chapter Twenty

On some level, Meg realized she was in a hotel bed . . . but this one was moving. And since she’d graduated from college, hotel beds with magic fingers were no longer part of her circuit. Thank God.

Still, her head moved up and down in a steady motion.

Rome. That’s right, I’m in Italy.

Her eyes popped open. Val.

Sure enough, it wasn’t a dream. Her head was flat against Val’s chest, and from her angle, his chest was something to behold. Wavy, firm bits with a small dusting of hair. His Italian color along with living on a tropical island gave him a golden tan many strove for but seldom obtained.

Doing her best to lie still and not wake her bed partner, she took stock of where all of her limbs were and what they were doing. She lay on her left side, her left arm curled between the two of them. Her right arm was shamelessly draped low on his chest, her right leg entwined with both of his. She couldn’t resemble a human blanket much more. Even in his sleep, Val hung on. His right hand rested on her hip . . . a hip completely exposed to his touch. Seemed her excuse for a nightgown wanted to ride up in the night. His other hand held her arm that lay over his chest.

I don’t do sleepovers.

Yet she was wrapped around him like lips sucking a lime after a tequila shot, and he was hanging on for the ride.

Sleepovers meant commitment. There was nothing about Val that was committed. They hadn’t even slept together . . . well, slept, but not . . . she closed her eyes and burrowed a little deeper. How can he smell good after a full day of traveling and a night of sleep?

Meg indulged in the feel and smell of him a little longer before forcing her eyes open for good. She attempted to pull her right hand out from under his only to have his fingers wrap around hers and pull her even tighter.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“You’re awake?”

“From the moment you opened your eyes.”

She lifted her chin and found him staring at her. Good God, there should be a law against being as sexy as he was first thing in the morning.

She smiled and didn’t worry about where her hair was sticking out, or the possibility of morning breath. “What are you doing in my bed, Masini?”

He twisted enough so her leg slipped between his. “Cuddling with a beautiful woman.”

“Sneaky of you. How did you manage to get in the room last night anyway?”

“The perks of knowing the language, cara. Italy, Rome in particular, is a city of love and romance. A few short words open doors.”

“And the greasing of palms?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “That doesn’t hurt either.”

“So you bribed your way into my bed. I’m impressed.”

He released her hand and placed a palm on her cheek.

She spread her fingers and enjoyed the feel of his taut chest against her hand. Her thumb traced the edge of one particularly dominant muscle.

He moved closer, offered a little moan with her touch.

He sighed, his dark gaze held hers. “Now what will it take to make my way inside of you?”

The image of the two of them embraced in passion swam into her head so suddenly she shivered.

Her fingers sank into his flesh. “That’s easy.”

The smirk on his face was a buck away from priceless. “Oh?”

The tip of her thumb tracked his responding nipple and he hitched his breath. “All you have to do is ask.”

He licked his lips over the smile on his face. With an attempt to be serious, he tried to stop grinning. “Cara . . .” He ran his hand down the side of her face and placed a feathered touch down her neck. “Bella, let me love you.” His accent thickened as his voice dropped with his request.

Had anyone ever made love to her with words?

Only Val.

She answered him by placing her lips on his. When mint splashed on her tongue, she pulled away. “You don’t play fair. Mouthwash?”

He pulled her back, kissed, tasted, and made all thoughts of morning breath float away. She sighed and let him lead. He held her hostage with his tongue, took his time worshiping her mouth. When he tired of her lips, or maybe he simply needed to breathe, he pushed her onto her back and started a slow dance down her neck, his free hand playing on her leg, her hip, bringing every nerve ending awake with his touch.