Page 117 of Italy Can Bite Me

The words are bullets to my chest. “Is that really all I was? Just another tourist to fuck?”

“You wanted to feel desired.” His voice could shred steel. “Mission accomplished. Vacation over.”

“Not yet it isn’t.”

His hands fist at his sides. “Let’s end this cleanly.”

“No.” I step closer, watching his control fracture.

“I don’t want you.”

Another step. “Your body betrays you.”

“Katie—” My name sounds wrecked on his lips.

I press closer, until there’s nothing between us but lies and want. His eyes drop to my mouth, hunger blazing in their depths.

“You want to kiss me right now.”

“No.” But his voice shakes.

I brush my lips against his jaw. “Yes, you do.”

“Principessa—” It comes out like a plea.

“No.” I silence him. “You want to play this the hard way, not tell me what’s going on? Fine. I’m not going to make it easy for you to walk away from me.” I take a step back. “Let me explain something about relationships since you’ve spent your entire adult life dodging them. Couples fight. They work out their problems. And then they kiss and make up.”

My hand finds the door handle, but I pause, turning back to deliver one final blow. “And by the end of the day, you’re going to tell me what’s wrong, kiss me, and admit that you love me.”

His head jerks up, his brow furrowing, and for a fleeting moment, his expression wavers. Hope? Guilt? Panic. Maybe all three? I don’t wait to find out. If I stay one second longer, I’ll do something reckless.

I yank the door open and storm out—my flats are tiny war drums slapping against the polished tile.

But the satisfaction of my dramatic exit is short-lived. As I strut down the hallway, I realize I have no plan. I’m basically a ten-year-old who just declared she’s running away from home but forgot to pack snacks.

The air smells like Italian coffee and pastries, and for a second I consider abandoning my plan to win Matteo back and simply bury my feelings in cannoli. But no. I can’t do that. I’m a woman with a mission. A very vague, half-baked mission, but a mission nonetheless.

What the hell are you doing, Katie?

Chasing after a man who told me I’m nothing but a vacation fling? Who basically stampedNo Refundson his heart and expects me to just accept it?

But then I remember how he looked at me last night. I was the center of his universe. I washis.

And damn it, I am his. He just won’t admit it yet.

This whole morning has been a three-ring circus of emotions, and I’m done being the silent clown. My mom, Jared, Matteo—they’ve all decided what’s best for me. But newsflash: It’s my life. My decisions. My mess to make.

Ugh. Jared.

Who flies to another continent, ambushes their ex with a proposal, and expects a standing ovation?Please.Maybe if after six years he’d ever managed to find my clitoris I’d feel a tiny bit bad about using him to make Matteo jealous. But he didn’t, so I don’t.

These men think they can tell me how to feel? How to love? The only difference is, one of them makes my pulse throb in all the right places(hint,it’s not the one with the dinosaur tie collection).

Operation Win Back the Italian Stallionis officially in motion. Because if there’s one thing Matteo Monti needs to learn, it’s that Katie “Control Freak” Crawford doesn’t give up.

Not on love.

Not on mind-blowing orgasms.

---