Perfect Match (Vice Club Nights #2)

10. Tori

Chapter ten

Tori

T ime stands still. Until a loud “Ahem” reminds us that we’re not alone and we pull apart.

Tina is grinning from ear to ear, one hand on a popped hip. “Do you think we could go? You two are drawing a bit of a crowd.”

Looking over my right shoulder, I spot two elderly ladies smiling back at me, and when I turn left, there’s a group of teenagers not only watching but taking photos—or possibly worse, videos. I’m not easily embarrassed, but in this case, I can feel my cheeks heating. In the last week, I’ve discovered that Gio is seemingly a minor celebrity in Italy and America, judging by the images I found of him attending lavish galas and red carpets, and I don’t want to turn our kiss into some viral video for social media trolls to pull apart.

Gio hustles us away from the impromptu audience, Tina and Amy following close behind. A black van stands waiting directly outside, and Gio greets the driver in rapid Italian before ushering us into the cool, air-conditioned interior. From the seat beside me, he turns to explain that it’s not far to the hotel.

I wasn’t sure about staying with Gio at his hotel, but when he offered a room for my friends too, any safety concerns I had quickly disappeared. The continuation of our game of twenty questions by text and calls have also given me an insight into the man. But my curiosity didn’t stop there. Thanks to Google, I know that while he’s dated a string of glamorous women—some I recognized others I didn’t—there is a lack of scandals. For someone in the public eye as frequently as Gio has been, that has to be a rarity.

What baffles me is why he’s decided to pay attention to me. I’m nothing like the women in those photos. I let my gaze wander to his strong profile where he sits beside me, and as if he senses my attention, he tilts his head to trap me in a look that’s impossible to escape. Damn, he’s so handsome it takes my breath away.

With a faint smile that hides the dimple I know can crease his cheek, he leans close to my ear. “I’ve booked a three-bed suite for you and your friends, but I was wondering if you’d like to stay in my suite.”

A slight turn of my head brings our mouths inches apart. “How many beds does your suite have?” I whisper, and my tone is deliberately low and husky.

His smile widens and the dimple that I love is on full display. “One,” he growls.

“Hmm, interesting.”

He chokes out a laugh. “You, bella, are a tease.” Then he reduces the inches separating our lips to nothing with a firm, though brief, kiss.

“Look at that,” Tina exclaims from behind us. “You can see the top of the Duomo.”

“It’s beautiful,” Amy adds, and I turn to the window for my first glimpse of Florence’s famous Duomo.

The girls are right; the view is amazing. But what else is amazing is the heat from Gio’s arm where he rests it casually along the back of the bench seat we share, his shirt brushing against the bare skin of my arm and shoulders that aren’t covered by my white camisole top.

The connection between us in Capri was not something my imagination built up; it was real, and I have every intention of exploring it further when we’re alone in his one-bedroom suite.

***

Gio’s hotel overlooking the Arno River is even more spectacular than the one in Naples, based on the chandelier ratio per square foot alone. This hotel foyer screams opulence, from the marble-inlaid floors, the soaring stone columns, and all the way up to the ornately carved ceilings. The girls follow a porter, who seems particularly pleased to have been given the task, over to the front desk.

While Gio and I trail a little farther behind, his hand resting on the small of my back, ensuring I don’t move too far away.

“Have you decided in which room you want to stay?” he asks in that sexy, deep baritone that is impossible to resist.

“I most certainly have. Could you please wait here a moment?”

The blue in his eyes dulls to the color of the sea on a cloudy day, before I turn to go and speak with my friends. It only takes a minute, and then I’m back.

“Now I’m ready, Mr. Barbieri, to be shown to your suite.”

He grabs a hold of my hand and rushes me across the gleaming marble floor to a separate bank of elevators than the main ones I noticed earlier in the lobby. He pushes the button several times to call it, and when it finally arrives and the doors glide open with a ding, he bundles me in.

“You seem to be in a bit of a rush,” I taunt him over my shoulder, and his response is a low growl as he braces an arm on either side of me against the back mirrored wall. Our bodies are not physically touching, but they don’t need to be for me to feel the heat emanating from him, making my body burn with need. We’re so close that any movement on my part would bring us together.

“You enjoy tormenting me, don’t you, bella. Tormenting my dreams and now tormenting me here.” His stormy gaze in the reflection holds mine. “You should know, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since Capri. Your taste. Your perfume. Everything about you has been imprinted in my memory. And if you don’t feel the same, then now would be the time to speak up.”

I gasp at the intensity shining like faceted sapphires in his irises.

Slowly, I turn to face him, and when we’re chest to chest, I place my hands on his shoulders and smile up at him. “That’s good to know, Gio … because what’s imprinted on my mind are all the things I wanted to do to you last time before we were so rudely interrupted. I’m speaking up but not to say I don’t want you. Instead, I’m saying I need more of what we did in Capri and anything else you’ve been imagining.”

He reaches to tilt my chin higher, then captures my mouth in a bruising kiss that steals the air from my lungs and sets fire to the craving that, till now, was simmering in my belly. I’m an inferno of emotion that’s consuming every cell in my body. It’s been too long since I felt this tremor of greedy need shaking my very core and dampening my cotton G-string between my legs.

The elevator dings its arrival, but I don’t want to let go, so when his hands go to cup my butt, I jump into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist. He groans his approval, and the bulge pressed against the juncture of my thighs makes my pussy weep. Gio stumbles out of the lift and a few steps farther to lean me up against an empty wall, his lips never lifting from mine.

Sucking on my bottom lip, nibbling on the top, then his tongue diving between them to taste more. He’s an excellent kisser. All-consuming, and with my weight being supported by the wall, his hands begin to wander under my top. I want him to rip the fabric from my body; my need to feel his hands on my skin is so strong. I remember how good it felt to have his mouth sealed around my tits.

His palm reaches into my bra to cup my soft flesh, gently massaging the weight with his long fingers.

“I want to feast on these gorgeous breasts,” he growls against the corner of my mouth. His words dripping with unfiltered lust—an intoxicating mix that makes my head spin.

The sound of a door opening near us has his fingers freezing mid-tweak of my nipple. But a moan still falls from my lips into the silence.

Is the universe conspiring to keep us apart with interruptions?

“Gio?” a deep voice says, stopping close to us, and I bury my embarrassment in the folds of the shirt covering his shoulder.

Gio lifts his head but doesn’t remove his hand from my breast. I’d care if it didn’t feel so good.

“Ant. I’m a bit busy for a chat at the moment,” Gio responds.

“Very busy, by the looks of it.” I can hear the smirk in Ant’s tone even if I’m not brave enough to lift my head and look at Gio’s brother. “Text me when you’ve dealt with your pressing matters.”

I can’t hold back the chuckle that slips out, but at least it’s muffled. Gio responds with a squeeze of my tit, and it’s so surprising that I jump in his arms.

Ant seems to choke on his own laughter as he moves farther away. “I’ll see you later, big brother. Or probably not.”

Gio has the door open and us inside before the ding of the elevator can whisk his brother away. Safely in the privacy of his suite and not the shared hallway, I lift my head and let the laughter I’ve been trying to keep in check out.

Gio, for some reason, seems pleased with my response. “Now you’ve met my brother Ant, what do you think?”

I slap his shoulder playfully. “That was hardly an introduction to the family.”

“Do you want an introduction to my family?” he asks, taking a few steps into the large sitting area, apparently not wanting to put me down to stand on my own two feet yet.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. That’s the beauty of a vacation fling: there’s no need for all that meet-the-family stuff.”

He stills for a beat before continuing farther into the room. “Right.” He rests my butt against the cool stone of the kitchen island, then stares at me, his features serious again.

When did the fun banter disappear?

“What?” I ask with a tilt of my head. I’m confused by the sudden change of mood.

He brushes a lock of his dark-brown hair back from where it’s fallen forward over one brow. “I was wondering if you’d like a shower? Or are you hungry? Your bag will be delivered soon.”

My hands drop from his shoulders to his arms. “Umm, a shower sounds good. Then maybe food.”

“Good. Easy done.” He lifts me down from my perch and directs me to the bedroom and en suite.

The rainfall shower feels amazing after the hot day and nearly two hours on a crowded train. The large clawfoot bath to the side of it would be even better, but I don’t want to hide in Gio’s bathroom for hours. And that bath was made for lingering in.

I twist off the tap with more force than necessary after standing under the warm stream of water longer than normal. A little part of me hoped Gio would join me after our steamy kisses earlier, but he hasn’t, and I’ve given up waiting. Something shifted when we were inside his suite, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what caused it.

Burying my face in a thick, fluffy white towel is heaven after the thin ones in our cheap accommodation, and I rub my skin pink as I plan my moves to fix whatever went wrong. I know Gio wants me, and I sure as hell want him, so this should be easy. I unhook one of the hotel bath robes from the back of the door. It’s a little large, but that doesn’t matter. Especially when I slip my arms in the sleeves and loosely tie it around my waist. There’ll be no doubt in Gio’s mind that I’m completely naked beneath the robe.

The final touch is to undo my hair from the ponytail and run my fingers through it so it cascades around my shoulders. Then, with a deep butterfly-settling breath, I walk barefoot out of the en suite, past the king-size bed, and into the sitting room.

Gio is lounging in one of the single high-back chairs, swirling ice cubes in a glass of amber liquid. The expensive suit jacket and red silk tie he was wearing earlier have been tossed on the sofa, and the top few buttons of his white dress shirt are open.

At the sound of my approach, his head swivels in my direction, and his hungry eyes devour me, feasting on every inch of deliberately exposed skin. I relish it. I want to parade and spin before him until the flames in their depths turn from looking to touching.

I move to stand before him. “The shower pressure was amazing after the dodgy plumbing we experienced at the Airbnb in Rome,” I say, while stretching my arms high above my head and knowing that the bathrobe is gaping enough to give him a peek inside.

“Come here,” he demands.

Grinning, I take the last few steps to be able to crawl onto him, my legs straddling his lap. “Is here close enough?” I ask, with one brow raised.

“It’s never close enough with you.” And then he slips his free hand inside the robe to cup my breast.

Emboldened by his smoldering gaze and touch, I place my hand over the one still holding the glass and lift it to my lips for a sip.

The whiskey burns a delicious path down my throat, turning my cheeks pink. “That feels good.”

“This?” Gio raises the glass in his hand. “Or this?” he asks, pinching my nipple.

“Both. And I want more.”

“Do you always get what you want?”

“Invariably,” I admit, arching my back so my chest pushes forward. He places his glass carefully on the side table beside his chair.

With that hand now free, he feeds it beneath the robe to cup my other breast. I melt into his firm touch.

“And what is it that you want, Tori?”

“You,” I declare. “Every goddamn inch of you.”

His grin widens, that sexy dimple creasing his cheek. “I plan on feeding every inch of me down this pretty throat of yours,” he promises as he reaches up to trail a finger along the column. “Then, and only then, will you get what you want. I want to hear you beg for me to fill you.” The sexy words trigger a new flush of heat to pinken my cheeks.

Dirty talk, in my previous experience, has always sounded lame. But with Gio’s words delivered in that Italian-American blended accent, it’s more of a promise of what’s to come, and I can’t wait for him to deliver.

With his hands full and fondling my breasts, I tug and wriggle the robe off my shoulders. Free of any covering, he buries his face in them. “Gorgeous.”

His tongue darts out to lave one pointed tip, then licks across the valley between to the other. With each swipe, a warm tingle travels beneath my skin, following the same track as his tickling touch. My hands tighten on his shoulders as he nuzzles the globes, teasing and tweaking their peaks. Sensations shoot through my body to my core with each pull or pinch.

And when one of his hands slips lower, brushing a thumb across my sensitive nub, I jump. A jolt of electricity shooting up through my body from my core all the way to be released in a deep-throated moan.

My hands twist in the fine cotton of his button-down shirt as the orgasm rips me apart in a flash of bright lights behind my eyelids. Blood pounds in my ears and my body weeps around his fingers and drips down my leg.

The slightest of touches and he has the ability to make me come undone completely.

He lifts his head to capture my lips in a bone-melting, rough kiss as he swallows my whimpers.

With shaking fingers, I work frantically on his button-down shirt to get him naked. But I don’t get far before Gio gathers my limp body against his and stands. He strides to the bedroom, laying me gently on the pristine, crisp white linen, all while his mouth takes what he wants from mine.

When I’m panting heavily and breathless again, he sits up, then stands and begins to strip.

I pull up onto my elbows for a better look. “This is better than Magic Mike ,” I declare when his shirt drops to the floor.

His hand stills on his belt buckle. “You better believe it because, with this striptease, you can touch all you like.”

I’m on my knees and crawling to the edge of the mattress by the time his zipper is undone. His tailored suit pants fall to his ankles. He straightens, wearing only black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

Gio’s body is a work of art, a perfect human form similar to the numerous marble statues I’ve seen in squares and museums in Naples and Rome.

“Keep going,” I beg.

And with a grin spreading across his face, he peels the briefs down, leaving his hard, thick cock bouncing free and perfectly in line with my mouth.

I lick my lips, and then, looking up at him, I bend forward and swipe my tongue across the precum-beaded tip.