Page 62 of Italy Can Bite Me

“That’s a very creative interpretation of events,” Matteo says with forced calm, right as my foot slides up his calf. His knee jerks so hard it rattles the wine glasses.

Caterina shuffles forward in her chair, eyes gleaming. “These stories, I never hear! Was my Enrico such troublemaker too?”

“Me?” Enrico places his hand over his heart. “I was perfect angel!”

“If Lucifer had a twin.” Matteo snorts, shifting subtly as my toes dance higher.

I take a slow sip of wine, locking eyes with him over the rim. “Let me guess—you were out there hitting on the locals with lines like, ‘Ciao bella, are you Tuscany? Because I’d like to explore your rolling hills.’”

“They worked then, and they work now,” he boasts with that smirk that does indeed make my lady parts tingle.

Time to step it up.Tonight I am not a woman with plans. I’m acting on instinct—embracing the unknown.

I let my hand wander under the tablecloth, settling firmly on Matteo’s thigh. He spits out his wine, coughing and spluttering. I trace slow, teasing circles higher up his leg, enjoying the way his breath hitches.

Oh, he’s flustered! The always-confident Matteo Monti is actually flustered—and I’m the reason. The power of it surges through me, and I press my fingers against him just a little firmer, relishing in his tension.

“The wine is excellent,” I say innocently. “So firm—I mean, full-bodied.”

Matteo’s ears turn pink. “Speaking of bodies—bottles. Good thing your parents never found out about the wine cellar incident—”

My fingers creep up Matteo’s thigh, and when his muscles twitch beneath my touch, it sends fresh heat pooling between my legs.

“Now that story I’ve heard.” Caterina pats her belly meaningfully. “Because of you two, I hope we have a girl.”

I avoid eye contact with him while I let my fingers explore the outline of his erection, and oh my God—he’s rock-hard and so massive I’m like,did he smuggle a baseball bat in there?

“So what did Matteo’s parents do?” I ask innocently. “When they caught him being such a troublemaker?”

The table goes silent. Enrico and Caterina exchange a knowing look. Something dark crosses Matteo’s face, and I feel it. I’ve stumbled into forbidden territory.

I start to lift my hand off his leg, but Matteo swiftly grabs it, secretly interlocking our fingers together.

“My parents…” Matteo’s voice carries an edge I’ve never heard before. “They knew to expect nothing but trouble from me.”

“So the bus?” Enrico shouts, cutting through the tension. “How is our smoking beauty, eh?”

“Got a rental shuttle,” Matteo says, his confident charm returning. “Mechanic thinks he can save her. Hotel worked out though—thanks to Katie’s organizational superpowers.”

My heart(and other parts)flutter at his praise. Seriously, I’m pretty sure they’re performing a fully choreographed routine down there. Never in my life has being called “organized” turned me on so much.

“If you’ll excuse us.” Matteo’s thumb strokes the pulse point on my wrist, and I want to whimper. “I promised Katie some photos before we lose the light completely.”

He stands, and the loss of his touch is agony. I want those hands back on me, pronto.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice breathy. “The sun’s almost set…”

“Trust me. I know how to work in low light.”

The promise in his voice makes me clench. There’s nothing professional in the way he’s looking at me now. Nothing tour guide appropriate about the hunger I see in his expression.

Please don’t let him be talking about actual photography. Please let “work in low light” be code for “push Katie into the shadows and make her forget her own damn name.”

Please, oh please, let it be code for that.

***

MATTEO

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