Evangeline finally crumbled, screaming my name, her body convulsing around me as waves of pleasure rolled over her. The sensation pushed me over the edge, and I followed her into oblivion with a roar that was pure animal gratification.
We collapsed onto the hay together, fighting for breath and breathing hard, with my arms cradling her protectively as the afternoon sun slanted through the barn's weathered boards. For long moments, neither of us spoke, content to exist in this pocket of stolen time where duty and consequence couldn't reach us.
"We should go back," she finally murmured, though she made no move to leave my arms.
"Soon," I agreed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Let me hold you a little longer."
But exhaustion and satisfaction conspired against us. Lulled by the warmth of the afternoon and the steady rhythm of her breathing, I drifted into deeper sleep than I'd known in months, Evangeline curled safe against my chest.
I woke to the sound of children's voices, high and excited, speaking rapid Italian. My eyes snapped open instantly alert to find two dark-haired boys peering through a gap in the barn wall. their faces alight with curiosity and mischief.
"Fuck," I muttered, immediately moving to shield Evangeline's body with my own.
She stirred at my movement, consciousness returning gradually until she heard the voices. Her eyes widened in mortification as she realised our situation.
"Oh God," she whispered. "How long were they watching?"
Before I could answer, one boy called out in broken English, "Ciao, mister! You have a beautiful woman!"
The other boy giggled, adding something in Italian about "romantico" that made them both dissolve into laughter.
"Go," I said quietly to Evangeline, helping her gather her scattered clothes. "Get dressed and slip out the back. I'll handle this."
She nodded, moving quickly but quietly to the rear of the barn whilst I pulled on my clothes and approached the curious children. By the time I reached them, she had vanished into the olive grove, her white dress a flash of movement between the ancient trees.
"Buongiorno, ragazzi," (Good morning, lads) I said calmly, switching to Italian. "You should be careful around old buildings like this. They can be dangerous."
The boys looked disappointed that their entertainment was ending, but they were polite children, well-raised. After assuring me of their carefulness, they enthusiastically talked about what they had seen, skipping towards the farm, which I believed belonged to their family.
I waited several minutes before following Evangeline's path through the olive grove. I found her by our vehicle, her hair hastily redone, her dress smoothed but still wrinkled from our activities.
"Well," she said as I approached, "that's one way to conclude a romantic interlude."
Despite the potentially compromising situation, I felt my lips curve in what might have been a smile. "At least they seemed to approve of my choice in women."
She laughed, the sound surprised and genuine. "Small mercies."
New intimacy filled the drive back to the veterinary clinic. Whatever lines we'd crossed in that barn, there was no going back now. I'd claimed her completely, and she'd surrendered with a trust that humbled me.
The rest of her workday passed in a haze of stolen glances and careful distancing. I kept up my professional demeanor, butI was completely aware of her presence, and I noticed her every move and every interaction with colleagues.
When we finally returned to the beach house that evening, the sun was setting over the Mediterranean, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose. I had plans for the evening—a meal I had been delivered from the village, a conversation I'd been building towards since we arrived in Sicily.
"Go change," I said as we entered the villa. "Something comfortable. I'll set up on the terrace."
She disappeared into her room while I arranged the terrace for our meal that was waiting for us—fresh seafood, local wine, candles that flickered in the warm evening breeze. It was romantic, deliberate, and I felt surprisingly nervous as I waited for her to emerge.
When she did, wearing a flowing blue dress that complemented her eyes, my breath caught. She was beautiful, yes, but more than that—she was everything I'd never known I wanted, everything I'd been fighting against wanting.
"This is lovely," she said, taking in the setup with pleased surprise. "What's the occasion?"
"Sit," I said, pulling out her chair. "I'll explain."
We ate slowly, savouring both the excellent food and each other's company. The conversation flowed easily—her excitement about the work she was doing, my observations about Sicily's changes since my childhood, shared memories and comfortable silences.
As the stars appeared overhead, I refilled her wine glass and took a steadying breath. The words I needed to say felt like broken glass in my throat.
"Evangeline," I began, then stopped, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
