Perfect Match (Vice Club Nights #2)

6. Tori

Chapter six

Tori

F un things! Did he really mean what I hope he means?

As I climb up the ladder on the back of the boat, my legs wobble, and the butterflies in my stomach are doing backflips. And when we’re back on board, Gio grabs a clean towel from the pile and wraps it around my shoulders before pulling me toward him. My hands land flush against his rock-hard chest, and I let them slip down his smooth wet skin a little to his abs. A shiver dances across my skin.

“Would you like a warm shower?” he asks, his voice husky and low. His lips touch my forehead in a soft kiss, and I shiver again. It’s not that I’m cold, because the scorching sun is still beating down on us. It’s that I want him with a need that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. Gio, with his extravagant Italian compliments and sexy, up-front American promises, might be my ideal man.

“Are we able to use the staterooms?” I query, still unclear on what the deal is with this luxury yacht. Based on the deference the crew is showing Gio, he seems to be in charge, but I’m not sure.

“Of course we can.” He loosens his hold so only one arm is draped casually over my shoulders and leads me toward the spiral staircase that goes down to the staterooms.

“The owner won’t mind?” I press him to confirm, hesitating at the top of the steps.

“Tori, this is my family’s yacht. We can do anything we want on it.”

“Okayyy … So when you said the boat technically wasn’t yours, you meant it kind of was.”

“Sorry, I should have been clearer.”

“You think?” I jest as I stroke one hand across his chest. “You had me thinking that it was a company yacht and we had to be respectable … and things.”

He chuckles. “Respectable and things? I’m intrigued.” He tucks some of my wet hair behind my ear before continuing, “The yacht officially belongs to my family’s company. And I’m the one who runs the company.”

His arm drops off my shoulders, and he takes a step back so he can better see my reaction. I grab hold of the towel as it slips. The conversation, unlike our others, seems to be uncomfortable for him, as he won’t look me in the eye. I don’t get that.

I reach up to his jaw and turn his face back to me. “It’s fine. I just wanted to be sure that it was okay for us to make it messy.”

His eyes widen as he steps closer again. “How are we going to make it messy?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear.

“Lead on and I might just show you.”

We continue down the short spiral of stairs, then along a narrow passage and into what must be the main stateroom. It’s very fancy. I walk farther into the room, my bare, damp toes disappearing into the carpet that feels like I’m walking on a cloud of cotton wool. A king-size bed with a thick royal- blue satin cover dominates the room. There is even a sparkling chandelier hanging above it. Seriously, a chandelier on a boat; that’s wild.

“This is so nice,” I tell him while turning 360 degrees to take it all in, ending my spin when facing him again.

He places his hands on my shoulders, then bends to trail a few tiny kisses along my cheek, full stopping them with a lingering kiss on my lips.

“You taste so fucking delicious.”

“What, like carbonara?”

He chuckles. “No, I was thinking more like a deliciously exotic … salt-encrusted woman.”

“I’ll take that compliment.” I reach up, pull his head back down to mine, and kiss him hard. Teasing my tongue between his lips and savoring his salty taste.

When we’re both breathing heavily and in need of a lungful of air, we break apart.

“Are you still wanting a shower? Or do you have plans to get messy first? Because I have to say, I like the idea of you being messy.”

Any number of scenarios flood through my head, and the overriding image is Gio naked with water tumbling down over his broad shoulders, pumped arms, and carved chest.

“Shower,” I blurt out. “But only if you join me?”

His arms tighten around me. Then, being someone who tends to act once I make a decision, I release the tie of my bikini top from around my neck, and the straps fall to my shoulders. But I remain covered as my chest still presses close to his, keeping the fabric in place. With his gaze lowered, he takes one step back and watches transfixed as my top slips to reveal my breasts.

“Fucking beautiful,” he growls.

His eyes devour my body as his palms come up to cup my tits. The pads of his thumbs rub circles across my taut nipples, and desire floods my bikini bottoms. His head dips to my chest, and my back arches as his mouth closes around one pebbled point while his fingers toy with the other. A moan slips out, softly at first, then louder as he sucks before filling the cabin when his teeth graze back and forth over my nipple.

Fuck, this is even better than nipple clamps. My breasts have always been super sensitive, but what he’s doing now has the potential to give me my first orgasm without any clit stimulation.

I’m barely able to remain standing. My legs are like soggy noodles, and if his arm wasn’t bracketing my hips to him, I’d collapse on the floor.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, and thank God he doesn’t let up even for a second.

I thread my fingers through his thick hair as he feasts on me, my muscles tensing as heat pools between my thighs. Relief can only come from this man. The combination of sucking, tongue flicking, and teeth is a rare talent. I push my hips into him, the long hard ridge in his boardshorts hitting my clit in exactly the right spot at exactly the right moment. And I’m lost in a maelstrom of sensations my moans now a full cry of release.

“Fuck me,” I eventually manage to exclaim.

“Is that a request?” he asks between kisses as his mouth moves up my chest to my neck.

“More an acknowledgment …” I squirm in his arms as the kisses tickle. “What you did was fucking amazing.” I squirm some more, my pussy continuing to rub against his cock.

He groans close to my ear. “If you keep rubbing up against me like that, that messy talk is going to become a reality,” he warns, but if he thinks his words are going to deter me from my mission to get him off, he’s wrong.

“Then we should move to the shower.” I slip from his arms, untie the remaining string of my top, and discard my bikini bottoms, leaving them where they fall. Then, spinning on my toes, I strut toward the en suite. He follows, and when I turn back around in the shower area, he has ditched his boardshorts.

Holy hell . His cock is hard and thick, touching just below his belly button. He reaches past me to turn on the shower. And I reach for him. My fingers curling around his girth. He shudders. I like that stroking him pushes him to the edge. And the thought that he might be about to shoot his load all over my chest and belly turns me on even more.

“You know, I’m a huge fan of messy,” I tease, reaching my hand between his legs to trail my nail lightly from behind his balls forward to the base of his cock.

“Fuck, you’re a dirty girl,” he groans, the sound reverberating through my body before capturing my bottom lip between his teeth.

A knock on the outer-room door pulls us reluctantly from the kiss. The disembodied voice of the first mate seeps to us through the polished wood. “Mr. Barbieri, your father is calling and wants to speak to you urgently.”

“Of course he fucking does,” Gio mutters into my shoulder. The words, I suspect, are more for himself than me.

I want to scream don’t go , but that isn’t what this is, so I keep quiet. Today was only ever meant to be a bit of fun. A day of adventure. Nothing more, and we both understood that.

He lifts his head, his eyes a stormy gray, and I know what he’s about to say before he does.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to have to take this.”

Our fantasy escape is over, and Gio’s real world seems to have just gate-crashed our afternoon.

He steps out of the shower cubicle. Pulling a couple of towels from the clean pile, he hands one to me before grabbing one for himself and quickly swiping it over his body. Then, tying it around his waist, he strides to the cabin door.

The snick of the lock is clear before he says, “Tell my father I’ll be there in a few minutes.” The door then bangs closed again without waiting for an answer. I wrap the towel around myself before joining him.

He’s already pulling his shorts on over his boxer briefs. He looks up. “I’m sorry we have to cut our day short.”

He steps toward me, and I to him. We meet in the middle of the cabin.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to … finish,” I reply, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere that’s descended on us like a fog rolling in. I’m guessing Gio and his father aren’t close, given the way he reacted to the summons. It’s something I understand better than most. After all, my father has probably only spoken to my sister and me about a dozen times in all of our twenty-six years of life.

“You can’t imagine how sorry I am too,” he says. A heavy sigh escapes his chest as he brings his head down to touch his forehead to mine. “I’ve really enjoyed our day together.”

That’s it, then; he’s almost confirmed my suspicion that we’re done. And it hurts more than it should.

I draw in a deep breath that will hopefully push the ache back down inside where it belongs. “Me too.” My voice is high and overly cheerful, but I’m hoping that, because he doesn’t know me well enough, he won’t notice the hollowness lurking behind the words.

“Now go speak to your father,” I urge, virtually pushing him toward the door.

He snatches up his shirt from a nearby chair and leaves, shoving one arm into a sleeve so roughly that it’s amazing the linen doesn’t rip. On the same chair are my own shorts and shirt neatly folded. I quickly dress, wondering if it was the first mate or the bitchy blonde who placed our clothes here. Although, she seems to have disappeared since we returned to the boat.

When I’ve done the best I can to tidy my hair without a brush, I head back up on deck. Gio’s clipped tones can be heard above the drone of the boat engine when I’m about halfway. His voice nothing like the charming man who left me minutes ago. I imagine this is Gio the businessman, strong, direct, and maybe a little bit cold.

But the moment he sees me, his voice drops, and soon after, he ends the call.

“Are you okay?” he asks, coming to me. His arms wrap around my shoulders as mine slip around his waist, like we’ve come together in this way a thousand times before. “We should be in Sorrento in about thirty minutes,” he murmurs above my head. “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to Florence tonight.”

I tip my head back. “It’s okay. It’s been fun—an adventure for my journal.”

His eyes, now a cloudy gray, narrow. “Didn’t you say you were going to Florence sometime?”

“Yep, we go to Rome by train on Thursday, and after that is Florence.”

“Will you meet me there? I can show you the sights.” His smile is back, along with the dimple that creases his left cheek.

“I’d like that.” The thought of another day or night with Gio is an exciting prospect.

“Good. Now, let’s go out on the deck, have a drink, and enjoy these last moments together.” He feathers a couple of kisses to my cheek and then takes my hand to lead me outside. Strangely, I like that he seeks out my touch. I’ve never been a touchy-feely kind of girl—growing up, the only hugs available were from my sister. But with Gio, I don’t mind.

***

My head is still spinning as I sit on a low brick wall by the Sorrento dock, the yacht just a speck in the distance. I know I should message my friends to say I’m here, but I don’t. Instead, I pull my journal from my bag and open to the first blank page.

May 22 – I met a man, Charli. A sexy half-Italian, half-American man. And we’ve had the best day together.

He’s the businessman from the pizzeria last night, and I know I should have added an addendum to yesterday’s entry, but by the time I’d returned to the hotel after having dinner with him, I was beat.

I can hear your gasp. Gio (that’s his name) invited me to join him for dinner last night. He’s the pizzeria owner Emilio’s cousin.

And today he took me on his luxury yacht to the Isle of Capri. He said he had to go there for a meeting. But that was for less than an hour, and he spent most of the day entertaining me. We had lunch at this amazing restaurant on a cliff overlooking the harbour. Then, when we were back on the yacht, we sailed to this private cove he remembered as a kid, where we swam in the clearest blue water. Magical. Idyllic. I can’t even think of enough words to describe the place or the man who was with me.

Are you cheering for me now? Because I’m cheering for me. Today feels like I’m finally moving on from Billy’s death. You know he wasn’t the great love of my life, as we were more friends with benefits. But he was my best friend aside from you, and it’s been hard to let him go. Spending time with Gio, swimming, laughing, and just simply enjoying life, was what Billy would have wanted for me.

I’m a little worried that Italian men could become my weakness—or at least one particular man. And don’t get me started on their flirty nature, perfect, old-school manners, and the way they make you feel like you’re the most absorbing, beautiful woman they’ve ever met. A totally ridiculous possibility given my current basic wardrobe of clean but backpack-creased clothes. My dry skin because I left my moisturiser in a hostel in Switzerland, and a mop of untamed, wild hair that badly needs a trim.

But Gio didn’t seem to notice any of that when he kissed me in the Mediterranean or in the yacht’s posh stateroom and shower. The man has a truly talented mouth. smiley face picture

He just dropped me at the harbour in Sorrento before sailing off into the sunset. Aren’t I meant to still be on board when he does that? It’s okay, though, because he wants to meet me in Florence.

Today was full of fun times.

Laters, sis!