The drive to Florence takes roughly one hour. When I pull in front of the centuries-old Antica Torre di via Tornabuoni hotel, I’m glad I decided to splurge. Besides comfort and a convenient location, it’s as romantic as it gets—not that I was thinking about that when I made the reservation.
“Mamma mia,” Chiara says before looking down at her clothes. “You know, as much as I love this dress, I think I’m ready for a change of outfit.”
“Ah, Goldilocks, we should have stopped by the villa so you could grab your stuff.”
“Are you crazy? That would have meant dealing with my mother sooner than I intended. I’m going to check out the stores nearby.” She gets out of the car.
“Hey, I’ll come with you,” I say, following suit.
“You want to come shopping with me?” The question comes with an eyebrow raise.
“What? Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes.” She laughs, a sound so rich, it’s infectious.
I break the distance between us, looping my arm around her waist and stopping inches from her face to run my thumb over her lips. “Okay, I won’t enjoy it. Maybe I’m just afraid you’ll take off and not come back.”
“You’re afraid I’m going to bail on you?” Her voice comes out as a breathless whisper.
“Yes, I am.” I rub my lips against hers, dying for another taste.
She puts her hands on my chest, pushing me back. There’s a deep V between her eyebrows, marring her lovely face. “The last thing I want to do is run away from you… unless we’re role-playing. I’m Little Red Riding Hood and you’re the Big Bad Wolf chasing me.” Her lips twist into a grin.
“So, first you call me a bear, and now you want me to play the wolf? What’s up with your obsession with wild animals?”
“I’m not obsessed!” She hits me playfully on the chest. “And first of all, I didn’t call you a bear. I said you were a cuddly bear. Very different. But it was a bad a nickname. The Big Bad Wolf fits you better. Or maybe big bear.”
“Gee, thanks?” I laugh. “Let me bring the bags to our room.” I tug her hand, but she plants her feet on the ground.
“Uh-uh. I’m not coming upstairs with you. We might not leave the room, and frankly, I’m starving. I’ll ask the concierge to make us dinner reservations.”
“You’d better be here when I come back.”
She steps away from me with a wicked smile on her lips. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find another hopeless tourist who needs my assistance.”
I take a step forward while a guttural sound comes from the back of my throat.
“Easy there, big bear. I was just teasing.” She spins around and swishes away into the hotel.
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.
