Page 33 of Italy Can Bite Me

The water hits me like ten thousand ice daggers straight to the nuts. My lungs seize as Lake Como reminds me why it’s meant for admiring, not swimming.

The binder twirls in slow motion below me, pages starting to spread like wet butterfly wings. My muscles scream as I knife deeper, fighting the cold that’s trying its best to turn my dick into an innie.

Got it!My fingers close around the plastic cover right as it’s about to become fish food.

The captain swings the boat around as I break the surface, gasping and sputtering Italian curses. I haul myself back aboard, water streaming off me as I hand Katie her sopping wet binder.

“Merda, it’s freezing!” I strip off my shirt, then attack my pants, not even caring that I’m putting on a show. The wet clothes are pure ice against my skin.

I catch Katie’s eyes going wide as I stand there in nothing but clingy boxer briefs. Her gaze travels from my chest down to my abs, then lower, and—

“Ah!” The captain’s laugh booms across the water. “The great Lake Como, she makes even the mighty Italian Stallion look more like a tiny pony, no?”

Katie’s eyes snap to my groin and—oh Cristo—she’s definitely noticing the current… situation.

“It’scold!”I protest, grabbing for the towel the captain throws at me. “Shrinkage is a perfectly normal male response to freezing water!”

And then it happens.

Katie Crawford—Miss Organization, Queen of Control—loses it. She doubles over, howling with laughter. The sound bursts out of her like she has been storing it up since birth, pure and unrestrained and fucking beautiful.

“The water…” I try again, but my mouth twitches. “It’s very, very cold.”

“Oh sure,” she gasps between giggles, wiping her eyes. “I’m sure you’re usually very…” Another laughing fit hits her. “…impressive.”

“I’ll have you know that under normal, non-Arctic conditions—” But her laughter is contagious, and before I realize it, I’m howling too—half-naked, freezing my ass off, and fully humbled by Mother Nature.

I want to make her laugh every day for the rest of this tour.

And fuck me. That thought is more dangerous than hypothermia.

CHAPTER SIX

KATIE

Mom:Look at this article I saw! “Ten Romantic Ways to Surprise Your Ex in London.”

Me:No way this is real.

Mom:IT IS! Found it on Pinterest! #7 involves balloons and roses—so cute!

Me:Thanks, but I know what Jared wants, and it’s not balloons and over-the-top clinginess.

Mom:Why not? Picture it. He opens the door, realizes his mistake, and BOOM! Happily ever after.

Me:Hard pass. I’ve got this handled, Mom. Love you.

MATTEO'S WORDS ECHO INmy head:No hooking up with tourists from my tours.

“This is good,” I tell my reflection in the hotel’s bathroom mirror, aggressively brushing my teeth. “Totally good. Great, even.”

The lie tastes worse than morning breath.

I’ve been up since five a.m., absolutely not thinking about the way Matteo’s wet boxer briefs clung to his thighs yesterday when he rescued my binder. Or how his voice dropped an octave when he described how he’d ruin me for other men. Or the fact that his no-tourist stance felt like both a relief and a personal attack.

Which is ridiculous. I’mengaged…Sort of.Taking a break.Whatever.

The point is, Matteo’s rule means I can stop reading into his outrageous flirting.

---