When the next song starts, I try to twist in his arms to face him, but he lets go of me, quickly taking a step back. “You got your dance, Chaos. Two of them. I’ll be at the bar.”
He doesn’t look back, and the loss of his body heat leaves me cold, even in the warm Roman night. I try to refocus on my friends, but I can’t stop looking back at him, posted at the bar with his eyes glued to the whiskey in his hands.
I don’t want to look at him this way. Don’t want to be so focused on him and desperate for his attention. But it seems unavoidable tonight, and I think I need to go home, go to sleep, and reset my head tomorrow.
“I’m done for the night. Want to head home?” I ask Inez.
“Noooo,” she whines. “Aren’t you having fun?”
“Yeah, but I’m exhausted.”
She looks over at Tomasso, who smiles and nods. Oh god, these two are already communicating without speaking. They’re going to be one ofthosecouples this summer, aren’t they? “You go. I’m going to stay with Tomasso for a bit longer.”
I point at Tomasso. “You keep her safe. If she doesn’t make it home perfectly happy and healthy, I know where your whole family lives.”
He laughs, pulling me in to kiss each cheek. “I’ll guard her with my life.”
I look over at Inez, still hesitant to leave her. She grabs my face between her hands. “Quinn, the past month’s been exhausting. I need this. I’m a grown woman, and I’ll only have one more drink. Go home. I’ll be fine.”
I smile and kiss her cheek. “Make good decisions.”
“Too late,” she hollers and twirls to the music, and Tomasso’s delighted laughter cuts through the air.
I walk over to Colton at the bar. “I’m heading home. You staying for a bit?”
“Hell no,” he says.
My heart jumps, and I remind myself that he’s choosing to get out of the club, not stay with me. I loop my arm through his like I did the first day we met, determined to beusagain, without all this weird swirling in my gut, and the two of us walk home.
The streets are still alive, even late at night. The restaurant terraces are full of groups sipping limoncello while they chat. Waiters congregate on the edges, unconcerned with pushing out patrons to turn over their tables. An accordion plays from one of the nearby piazzas, and as touristy as it may be, the music gives the city a romantic air. I could spend the entire night walking in silence with Colton, breathing in the life of the city.
But since I’m wearing torture devices other women like to call fashion, I force him back to the apartment and kick my heels off the second we walk through the door, moaning in relief. But as I head to my room to crash, I remember a whole other problem.
“What’s wrong?” Colton asks when I groan.
“Inez did the zipper of my dress, and I can’t get it down. I’m gonna have to sleep in the damn thing.”
“I’ll get it.” He stands from where he had dropped onto the couch and gestures for me to join him. I stare at him with wide eyes. This seems like a line we shouldn’t cross. “What? It’s not like I haven’t helped you out of a dress before.”
My brain is conjuring images of Colton helping me out of this dress. Of him kissing along the low neckline and ripping it down the center because he’s too desperate to use the zipper. Of him dropping to his knees in front of me…
God fucking dammit.
“Yeah, but…”
He scoffs. “But what?”
“It’s not really appropriate now,” is what comes out, and his brow furrows, clearly confused. He doesn’t know I’m secretly going into a jealous rage when sexy Italian women hit on him and having explicit visions like a super horny oracle.
“How the hell is that not appropriate?” he asks.
Shit shit shit.I have to get him off this topic. He can’t know where my head went when that woman touched his arm, the urge to rip it away from his body and replace every woman’s touch with my own.
But that’s the perfect solution. Turn my weird comment around to the person who made me lose my mind in the first place.
“I don’t know if your girl would appreciate you undressing another woman,” I say with a wiggle of my eyebrows.
He steps toward me. “Yes, Anonymous Woman’s heart would break.”
