Page 94 of Italy Can Bite Me

Grunt.

“Any concerns about our three-hour trip?”

Shrug.

“You learn to speak Lorenzo the more you’re around him,” Matteo explains to me with a grin.

Lorenzo sneaks a wink my way when Matteo’s attention is elsewhere. I flash him a smile in return.

“Everyone’s loaded except one very important passenger.” Matteo smiles, and it’s a tsunami of warmth, crashing over me from head to toe.

Lorenzo mysteriously vanishes, and before I can blink, Matteo pulls my body flush against his.

“Sit with me today?”

I nod, my heart doing backflips.

“Tell me, were your sheets cold without me?” His whisper sends shivers down my spine.

“Actually, yes. My lady parts got lonely so I hopped a train back to Verona for a quickie with the pharmacist.”

“Farmacista,” he corrects. “And that’s not funny.”

“You seemed to enjoy the joke yesterday.”

“Yesterday I hadn’t spent an entire night without you,” he says, cradling my face. “Without your soft breaths against my chest, and the way you curl into me like you belong there.” His eyes go dark as espresso. “Now I’m starving for you, principessa.”

His hand slides to the back of my neck, anchoring me in place as his mouth moves against mine, coaxing, demanding, tasting as if he’s memorizing me. The kiss is devastating, consuming, and obliterates every thought in my head. My fingers grip his shirt, the soft fabric bunching beneath my palms as I try to steady myself.

But when Matteo kisses me like this—it’s full-on vertigo.

And then, just as suddenly, he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, both of us gasping for air.

“You’re making this impossible,” he murmurs, grabbing my hand like he owns it. Next thing I know he’s hauling me toward the bus as if I’m some prize he won at the fair.

Impossible?What the hell doesimpossiblemean?The kiss? Me? Him?

***

Isinkintomybus seat, the worn fabric greeting my thighs like an old frenemy. Up front, Matteo and Lorenzo are performing their daily mime show of vehicular communication. Lorenzo responds to questions about fuel levels with eyebrow choreography while Matteo somehow translates “check engine light” from a single nostril flare.

“Katie-kins!” Aunt Deb’s voice sings from across the aisle where she’s cozied up in Howie’s lap. “You’ll never believe the evening we had!”

Her eyes sparkle, matching the massive ruby pendant hanging between her breasts.

“Club del Doge.” She sighs dreamily. “Right on the water, facing the Doge’s Palace. The most romantic dinner of my life. We drank so much champagne! Howie only orders the best, don’t you, sugarplum?”

“Every minute with you deserves celebration, darlin’.” Howie’s drawl has gotten thicker, if that’s possible.

I can’t stop staring at what appears to be the Crown Jewels around my aunt’s neck. “Is that—”

“Oh, this?” Aunt Deb casually adjusts the heart-shaped ruby, which is the size of a baby’s fist. “Howie insisted.”

“Miss Deborah Fox has stolen my heart,” Howie declares. “Might as well make it official.”

“I told him it was too much—over a hundred thousand euros!” Aunt Deb fans herself dramatically. “But then this naughty boy went and got the matching earrings!”

She swishes her head side to side like she’s Beyoncé on stage, flashing ruby earrings so big they could fund an ocean-side mansion.

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