This girl has me ensnared, hook, line, and sinker. I follow her, not liking one bit the way the men in the hotel’s lobby twist their necks to watch her walk by. I increase my steps and throw my arm around her shoulders, kissing her soundly on her cheek, marking my territory even though she’s not mine.

She laughs at my enthusiasm, turning her face to mine and kissing me deeply. Dropping my duffel bag to the floor, I hold her closer and fuck her mouth with my tongue. I don’t know how long we stay glued like two horny teenagers in the middle of the five-star hotel lobby. One thing is certain, I would have kissed Chiara longer if she hadn’t pulled away first. She stares at me with swollen lips and hooded eyes, and I want to throw her over my shoulder and bring her to our room. I’m about to explode in my pants.

Shit, this girl turns me on like no one else.

“Me, dinner reservation. You, get us checked in.” She steps out of my embrace, almost running toward the concierge desk.

I watch her leave like a lovesick puppy, wondering when the hell lust turned into something more.

When I return to the hotel lobby ten minutes later—I had to take care of my raging boner first—I find Chiara waiting for me and wearing a new dress. She stands up as soon as she sees me, and I track the length of her body, taking her in. The simple black dress she’s wearing wraps around her like a glove, accentuating every single edge and curve, leaving me breathless.

“Do you like it?”

“I thought you were going to wait for me to go shopping.”

“I was bored.” She shrugs.

I step into her personal space and kiss her softly, whispering against her mouth, “I love it.” Before I get carried away again, I step back. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

We skip the big tourist restaurants and go to a quaint side street mom-and-pop establishment so small, it only has four tables inside.

“This is the smallest restaurant I’ve ever been to,” I say.

“It’s one of the best restaurants in Florence and almost impossible to get reservations last minute. We got lucky.”

Chiara orders aperitivo for each of us, which consists of a glass of prosecco accompanied by three small snacks. She hasn’t led me astray so far. I trust her choices. Plus, I love seeing the confidence in her. It beguiles me.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the summer?” I ask casually.

“Uh, yeah. Stay the hell away from my family.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Actually, I’m going to Ibiza with a couple of friends next month.”

“I heard it’s a beautiful island.”

“Yes, but we’re mostly hitting the clubs,” she replies, distracted as she nibbles on her snack while a spike of jealousy pierces my chest. Clubs mean other guys. Meat markets.

I finish drinking the prosecco and signal for the waiter to bring me another one. I would prefer something much stronger, but I don’t think they have whiskey here.

“How about you?” she asks.

“Nothing as exciting.”

Chiara furrows her eyebrows, and I realize my answer came across a bit standoffish.

I reach across the table and curl my fingers around her hand. “This has been one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. I’m glad the rental company screwed up.”

She drops her gaze and stares at our joined hands for a couple of beats in silence. When she finally looks up, I notice her eyes are brighter than before while her lips pull into a tight smile.

“This has been a great weekend for me too. I’m sad it’s almost over.”

“We still have tonight.”

Chiara raises her glass. “To tonight.”

10

Chiara

I’ve gone and done it. I have fallen in love with Alistair in less than twenty-four hours. That must be a world record. And the worst part is I don’t know anything about him, so the swirling feeling inside my chest defies logic.

After we dive into a delicious homemade lasagna, we stroll back to our hotel along the river that flows through the heart of Florence, stopping to perch on the wall of one of the bridges along with locals to watch the sun go down. This all feels like a dream, but I know eventually I’ll have to wake up.

The room he got is more opulent than I could have imagined, and it makes me wonder what he does for a living to be able to afford such luxury. It doesn’t really matter to me though. I can testify that money means nothing, and it most certainly can’t buy anyone happiness. You just have to look closely at my miserable family to see that.

I sit on the edge of the bed, and suddenly I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid if he pays attention, he’ll read the yearning in my eyes.

Alistair stops a little away from me, and he seems as unsure as I am. Does he also feel the shift in the air?

Impossible.

The hunger in his gaze is undeniable, and my body reacts accordingly. My heart is drumming so loudly inside my chest, it seems it wants to take flight. Heat pools between my legs just from thinking about what’s to come.

Slowly, Alistair unbuttons his shirt without taking his eyes off me. The jeans go next. I remain frozen. Watching him strip is damn sexy and a little frightening too. I feel so out of my depth.

I swallow hard when he stands in front of me in all his naked glory. He’s Adonis personified. His abs look Photoshopped. I know they aren’t though. I’ve felt the hard ridges of his muscles under my fingers; I’ve tasted their raw power.

Slowly, Alistair crosses the room, dropping to his knees in front of me. Placing his warm hands on my thighs, he makes lazy circles over my skin with his fingertips. I forget how to breathe.

“Chiara,” he says almost reverently before he pushes my dress up my legs, the fabric bunching up around my waist.

When his face gets closer to my pussy and his warm breath fans over the sensitive skin, I almost climax right then and there. Without removing my underwear, he rubs his nose over my clit, the friction too good to describe. I thread my fingers through his hair, grabbing at the strands.

“Alistair….”

“What, Goldilocks?”

“If you keep at it, I’m going to come.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” He darts his tongue out, sweeping over my nub in one languid stroke.

A whimper escapes my lips, and Alistair laughs.

“I love the sounds you make.”

I know he didn’t mean anything by it, but I still tense up upon hearing the word “love.” Alistair must have sensed it because he stops to look at me.