Page 68 of Italy Can Bite Me

The morning sun catches his profile, highlighting the stubble I remember feeling against my inner thighs, and I grab my hips remembering his caress. Last night, he looked at me as if I were his salvation and his destruction all wrapped into one.

God, I want him tolookat me like that again.

My smile falters as I remember the way he left me in the wine cellar, gently putting my panties back on. No cuddling, no expectation of anything in return—just a quick getaway.

My brain—overthinking menace that it is—starts spiraling. Maybe last night was too much. Maybe he saw what Jared saw—that I’m exhausting. That my need to control everything, to plan every moment—

Stop it, Katie.Matteo is not Jared.

Matteo… he’s different. He doesn’t try to fix or change me. He called my organizational skills asuperpower. And last night? For the first time in my life, I completely let go. No plans, no schedules, no analyzing what would happen. I let him take control, and I… I finally understood what it meant to be free.

The realization hits me like I downed a double espresso—I don’t want more orgasms(I mean holy cannoli, I do),but what I really want is more of that feeling. That moment where I’m not Perfect Katie with her life all planned out. I want to discover the unexplored parts of myself and who I can be.

I’m sure Matteo’s stupid no-tourist rule comes from experience—probably dozens of clingy women who thought one night of passion meant locking him down. But I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking for right now. For a chance to explore this new version of myself who can take what I want without analyzing it to death first. To be spontaneous and maybe even a little bit wild.

I grin to myself, sliding a hand under my cover-up for a quick peek at the bikini. The old Katie would need three spreadsheets and a pros-and-cons list before even considering wearing this flimsy excuse for swimwear. But the old Katie never knew what it felt like to come so hard she saw actual stars.

The bus shudders to a stop, and Matteo rises from his seat, his deep voice calling out to the group. “Signore e signori, welcome to the waves!”

Lorenzo opens the bus doors, and our senior citizens deploy their beach gear as if they’re storming Normandy. I take a steadying breath.

No more planning.

No more waiting.

No more rules.

Watch out, Italian Stallion. You’re about to find out what happens when a perpetual planner throws caution to the wind and takes what she wants.

***

Whenyourauntstartsa sentence with “Gather round, my naughty darlings, let’s get this party started!” immediately run in the opposite direction. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Just run.

But no. Here I am, toes curled in the sand, watching Deborah Fox perched on a driftwood log like some bohemian prophet summoning a congregation to witness a miracle.

“Today, Howie and I share the same wish,” Aunt Deb announces, “to experience Italy the way God intended. Naked!”

My jaw unhinges so fast I might need surgery.

Did she saynaked?

I grip my cover-up tighter, clinging to the only thing standing between me and sheer, unadulterated humiliation. I struggled to work up the nerve to wear this teeny bikini. Going fully birthday suit? Around other people? No. No, no, no.

I should have seen this coming. Of course it’s a nude beach.

Howie steps forward, somehow already shirtless, his Southern drawl dripping with charm. “As my sweet tea here is saying, we’ve earned every single one of these imperfections. My artificial hip? That’s from boogieing too hard at Zumba class. My knee replacement? Vietnam. And this gut?” He pats his round belly proudly. “My trophy of appreciation for good bourbon and better barbecue.”

“After seventy-plus years of living, what do we have to be ashamed of?” Aunt Deb continues. “These wrinkles? They’re our story maps. These sags? They’re gravity’s love letters. These age spots? They’re beauty marks from Father Time himself!”

“And darlin’, time’s given you the marks of an angel,” Howie says, pressing a kiss to Deb’s hand.

The sexual confidence I woke up with? The one that had me planning to seduce Matteo with my daring black bikini? It has packed its bags and booked a one-way ticket to anywhere but here.

Deb fans herself dramatically. “We’ve spent our whole lives being contained, being… clothed. But not today, my dears. Today we’re going to be as free as Italian seagulls! As naked as Roman statues. As natural as the day we took our first breath.”

I can’t decide what’s worse—her speech or the fact that it’s so effective.

The crowd cheers. Someone throws their hat in the air.

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