Page 84 of Italy Can Bite Me

My heart soars at his praise, but I shut it down fast.Don’t read into it. Of course he’s being nice after he rammed his rod so hard that I’ll be walking funny for the rest of the day.

We straighten our clothes with trembling fingers, trying to hide the fact that we just had the hottest quickie in retail history. The mirror reveals exactly what Italian-induced ecstasy does to a girl’s previously styled hair.

I reach for the door. He catches my hand.

“Go on a date with me.” He pauses, running his free hand through his hair. “I mean—I’m not forcing you to. I’ve never done this before. I’m asking. Per favore, go on a date with me, Katie.”

“Yes.” The word pops out instantly.

His smile lights up his whole face. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek that somehow is more intimate than all the filthy things we just did against that wall.

He takes my hand again, and we’re waltzing toward the entrance.

He tosses the shirts he’d grabbed onto the counter, telling the clerk, “She said it was too big. She really battled with it, trying to get it in, but it was a lost cause.”

The clerk’s eyes dart to me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Matteo glances at me, smirks, and then winks. A fully unrepentant, completely wicked wink.

We emerge into Venice’s afternoon bustle, our fingers still intertwined. I stare at our joined hands, a knot tightening in my chest. It feelsright. Like I’ve been walking around with an empty space in my life, and somehow Matteo has filled it. Effortlessly.

Oh shit.

This is more than sizzling sex. This is something far more dangerous.Feelings. Big, unruly, I’m-not-sure-I-can-handle-this feelings.

What kind of lust-filled lunatic falls for a man who doesn’t believe in relationships?

Apparently me.

Congratulations, Katie.You’ve officially lost your damn mind.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MATTEO

TheVeniceSantaLuciatrain station is a fucking circus at eight a.m.

The massive iron-and-glass ceiling soars overhead like some grand cathedral dedicated to the gods of transportation. Here on the ground, it’s all-out war. There’s a storm of suitcases and obscenities as visitors charge each other like deranged gladiators. Oversized luggage takes out tourists’ ankles while kids have meltdowns in French, German, and whatever language Satan’s spawn speaks.

I stand with Lorenzo near Platform Three, where he checks his ticket for the fifth time. Guilt gnaws at my insides. “You don’t have to spend your day off retrieving the bus from La Spezia. I should go.”

The words taste bitter. Yesterday’s call from the mechanic wiped out my savings. Monti Tours is now officially surviving on credit cards and prayers. If the bank doesn’t approve that loan soon…

But I can’t think about that because it’s “Free Day,” the one day that I build into my tours where I’m not playing tour guide slash babysitter slash human GPS. I schedule it in cities we’ve already explored so that the group has a better chance of making it back to the hotel alive.

“Seriously, I don’t mind—”

Lorenzo’s eyes narrow. He studies me with the intensity of a man contemplating either great wisdom or his next bowel movement. Then, in classic Lorenzo style, he delivers maximum impact with minimum words.“Lo, autobus. Tu, lei.”

Me, bus. You, her.

He claps a hand on my shoulder, mutters “Idiota” under his breath, and walks away, leaving me to deal with the growing complication that is Katie Crawford.

I glance at her, and Cristo, my body responds like she’s got me on a leash. Her golden hair dances in the morning breeze, her sundress lifting just enough to flash a peek of her perky ass. I want her. My traitorous mind teleports to last night—how she looked riding me, taking exactly what she wanted. I was under her spell. Still am, apparently.

Her perfect breasts bounced as she found that magic angle, her core squeezing me until I almost blacked out. The image of her head thrown back—when pleasure overtook her—she collapsed into my arms and fell asleep against my chest…

Stop. Now.

This is precisely why I declared the next twenty-four hoursNo Sex Day.

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