her hands as quickly as possible before returning to the kitchen. The kitchen was her favorite room in the whole villa, even before the paint fiasco. It had probably been the only room for many years judging from its size and the giant fireplace. Julia could imagine the hearth heating the space, with big tables and plenty of room for a bed tucked into the corner next to the fireplace. Even now, there was a leather sofa in front of the hearth, the substantial island and a dark rustic table that would easily seat ten. She’d seen reproductions on furniture websites but Frank’s table was the real deal, probably made from wood shipped from the mainland several hundred years ago.
Frank had turned on the radio he kept on the kitchen counter and listened to rapid-fire Portuguese. His frown deepened. Julia looked out the window and knew what was coming. She couldn’t understand the radio, but she knew weather from her life on air force bases.
She stuck her head out the back door. The sunny day had rapidly darkened, with ominous clouds blowing from the west. It had been such a warm day and a cold front was stirring up trouble when it hit the mass of warm air. Ah, life on an island.
This storm was a bad one, and they would be foolish to set off for the bigger island of São Miguel.
He turned down the volume and faced her. “Julia, the weather has turned, and there is a boating danger advisory. I can’t take you back. You’ll have to spend the night.”
Her stomach quivered. A night in the villa with Franco was laden with possibilities—and pitfalls. He stared at her and she knew he felt the same way. “I have to spend the night,” she echoed. “With you.”
“With me.” He took a step closer. “Don’t worry, meu bem. I will take care of you.”
Meu bem. That was hard to translate into English but easy to understand, basically meaning “sweetheart.”
“I trust you, Frank.” She touched his cheek and he covered her hand with his, turning his face to kiss her palm.
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He dropped her hand and spun away. “I have to check on the boat.”
His steps echoed on the stone floor as he hurried out the door down to the dock. She slowly lowered her hand to her side, her palm burning where he kissed it. The rest of her burned as well.
Julia redirected her attention. A storm on a small island meant loss of utilities, so she searched in the kitchen cabinets and pantry for flashlights, candles, matches and even kerosene lanterns. After setting several of each on the center island, she filled several jugs with tap water and then ran both the downstairs and upstairs bathtubs full to use for flushing and bathing, if needed. As the tub filled upstairs, she glanced around the master suite, noting the dated overblown cabbage rose décor and baby pink bathroom, not to mention the red paint samples. No wonder Frank wanted to update the villa before his young friend’s honeymoon.
Frank’s comb and brush sat on the white spindly dressing table, complete with gilded mirror. A dark blue T-shirt hung over the gold-velvet upholstered chair. She couldn’t imagine Frank enjoyed sleeping there in that ugly bed. Poor Frank, under that dizzying bedspread. Some impulse made her test the mattress with her hand.
Frank all alone. Naked. His smooth skin catching on the worn sheets as he tossed and turned, his cock hardening in the night. He would toss the bedding away and cup himself, erect and thick. She swallowed painfully, desire thickening her blood. Her nipples tightened as she fantasized about him caressing himself from base to tip.
Juices slipping from him as they were slipping from her. She moaned, the pulsing between her thighs unbearable enough that she rubbed herself through her thin denim pants. A poor substitution for a real man, but the pull of her fantasy was too much to stop.
His fingers caressing his hard, masculine nipples. She undid a button and slipped her hand inside her blouse. Her breasts were full and heavy, their peaks aching as she tentatively brushed across them.
His hands tightening around his dark, heavy sac, milking and stroking himself. His heels digging into the mattress as his back arched from the bed, his hands working himself into a powerful frenzy of desire. Up and down his shaft.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned, shivering at the edge of orgasm. Her hand crept up toward the drawstring at