The Italian

“Lucky me.”

* * *

We’ve been to the Ostia Antica ruins, The Coliseum, and around the eclectic streets of Rome. The roar of the engine echoes as Rico’s motorbike pulls to a slow stop at the parking lot of the beach. It’s around 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon and the sun is high in the sky. I cling to his broad back. My legs are tucked around him, and the day has been dreamy.

We’ve laughed, talked, and I have to admit that Enrico Ferrara is one hell of a tour guide. Although, half of the time as he spoke about the attractions, I was just staring at his lips, imagining them on me. Imagining being the key word because, well, he hasn’t fucking touched me all day. Not once.

He hasn’t held my hand, grazed my arm with his, or anything. I’ve clung to his back on this motorbike like the groupie that I am, sure, but other than that… nothing. There has been no kissing at all. Not even a peck.

What the hell is going on?

Last night we kissed all night, he was all over me. Couldn’t get enough, today…. nothing. Maybe he doesn’t like me anymore.

Maybe I blurted out too much information about myself this morning. Damn it, why did I tell him my pathetic number of lovers? He probably thinks I’m a dud.

And he would be right. Who has two fucking lovers? Losers, that’s who.

I am getting sick of being the good girl all the damn time. What I wouldn’t give to be wild and free for once.

Rico pulls the motorbike to a stop, and I slowly climb off the back and step onto the road. He turns to me and takes my helmet off. I hold my breath, and he smiles down at me. Does he know what I’m thinking?

“The bathrooms are over there if you want to get changed.” He gestures to the restroom.

“Okay, thanks.” I make my way to the bathroom and into the cubicle to put on my white string bikini. My hands shake nervously. I try and stretch the fabric over my behind, but this bikini feels so freaking small now that I have to go out there in it. I put my face into my hands. I’m a ball of nervous energy. He has me tied in knots.

I take out my phone and text my best friend Natalie. She’ll probably be at work but this is the first time I’ve had a moment alone to text her about last night… and today. Holy crap, there’s a lot to tell her.

Hi, I’m at the beach in a bikini.

Been on the back of a god’s motorbike all day, sight-seeing.

I’m totally loving Rome xoxoxox

I hit send.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I whisper out loud to myself. I exhale heavily and fake confidence before I walk out to the beach.

Rico is waiting for me, wearing black shorts… only shorts. He’s super tall and has a broad chest with a scattering of black hair covering it. His tanned, olive skin is rippled with muscle. I count his six pack of abs. I stop still on the spot as my breath catches.

Holy fuckballs.

Rico’s eyes drop down my nearly naked body and he bites his bottom lip to hide his smile. “Hello,” he purrs.

“Hi,” I breathe as the air leaves my lungs.

“Nice swimsuit.” He raises a brow.

I adjust the top to try and cover more of my boob. “Thanks. It felt bigger in the store.”

He drops his head, as if stopping himself from saying something he shouldn’t. “Shall we go over here?”

“Uh-huh.”

He gestures for me to walk in front of him, and I die a little. Oh, God, he wants to watch my behind as I walk. It’s going to be jiggling to hell.

“No, after you, I insist,” I say.

He smirks, and we walk side-by-side over to the beach. “Do you want to get a deck chair?”