My Pretend Romance in Sicily ✔ | 18+

undici.

"Ciao cara." He smiled, drawing his lips away. "Are you busy?"

I shook my head, lifted my head slightly to kiss him again. I sighed, appreciating the softness of his lips, relished in the warmth of his tongue.

He dragged my bottom lip in his teeth again. "Good," he muttered, angling his head higher, away from mine, and I whined. "because I want us to go somewhere."

Raffaele stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. I did the same, rising and bringing myself to my knees. I crawled closer to him, almost hanging on the edge of the bed. His eyes were hidden behind the loose strands of his hair, so I raked my fingers through the soft tendrils, pushing the dark locs back.

And like I had expected, beautiful green eyes glinted in response, corners crinkling to a smile.

"Where?" I mused, hanging my weight onto his shoulders. I kissed his cheeks, and Raffaele waited before holding onto my waist.

"Just come with me, I'll show you." He whispered, rubbing his palms up and down my back, caressing me.

"We won't get in trouble like last time?" I joked, angling my head to the side.

"No. Besides, it's daylight." He motioned his head in the direction of the balcony, and I followed him, noticing the bright morning sun that shone through the glass. "So, we'll be doing everything at the correct hours, trust me."

I wrinkled my nose, disobeying smile appearing again. I kissed Raffaele once more, and he pulled me closer.

"Okay." I whispered, cheeky grin presenting itself.

***

We walked uphill in the burning heat. My dress was revealing, exposing too much skin to the sun. Raffaele, however, seemed unbothered by this, strolling casually with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"How much longer?" I asked, fanning my face. I pulled my sunhat lower, trying my hardest to protect my face.

"Five minutes."

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "You said that ten minutes ago."

"Then ten minutes." He added, tone filled with humor, and I groaned harder.

Raffaele and I had taken a taxi to Capo d'Orlando, a commune in Sicily. He said that there was a fruit farm here, and mentioned how he really wanted to take me.

We walked up the gravel road for a few more minutes, before reaching a large stone archway. There were words engraved in Italian overhead, and when I looked further inside, I could see beds upon beds of greenery.

"We could have taken a rickshaw." I whispered, gazing at the inside of the fruit farm.

"Walking is good for your legs." Raffaele commented beside me, and I weakly swatted his arm, barely touching him.

Completely star-struck, I squinted to look past the waves of heat. Tall trees and vines pastures decorated the vast background, coloured with various dots of what I assumed were different fruits.

Obviously.

Raffaele grabbed hold of my hand, leading me inside. We walked past the tall rows of greenery, and I breathed the crisp air in. Only freshness and sweet smelling fruit permeated my nostrils, revitalizing my lungs and improving the flow of my airways.

We continued on foot down a narrow lane, where large bricked house met the end of the road.

The house at the end of the lane was nothing like the big commercial buildings. It was vintage, aged, bricks stacked crooked. But that's what made it so fine, remarkable.