Amalfi Coast (That Wedding Girl Book 2)

by Way, Maggie

  “Thriller” by Michael Jackson blares through the speakers and the crowd goes wild. This is my cue to escape. I sneak my way out of the dance floor, grabbing a white wine spritzer at the bar before using the fire escape to get some fresh air.

  The cool air feels so good on my skin and I walk up to the gazebo to drink my wine in peace and silence. The day is over! For the first time in a long time - even before coming here for this wedding - I can finally breathe easy. Most of my work is done now. The caterers and decorators will clean up the room when the reception is finished, and I’ve finalised all the payments and invoices for the services provided. That’s everything.

  Sitting on the stone bench inside the gazebo, I rest my head on the stone pillar behind me, thinking about what else needs to be done when I hear the footsteps of well-heeled shoes approaching the gazebo. I crouch my back inwards, trying to not be seen. I just want to be alone right now. However, my efforts are all in vain as the footsteps get closer, until they stop just in front of me.

  “Buonasera, Lacey.”

  It’s Matteo, the hunky Italian who has been a hell of a distraction since I’ve been here.

  He’s here, in front of me.

  And it looks like he’s here to stay.

  CHAPTER NINE

  With a cigarette in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other, I should be horrified at the sight of him smoking, but in his tight black jeans and denim shirt, he looks hot as hell. Matteo walks closer until he stands right above me.

  “How was today for you?” His eyes meet mine. He takes one final drag and drops it to the ground, stubbing it with his loafers.

  “Good! I bet you had a good time?” I grin. I bet he did. All the bride maids practically trapped him on the dance floor. Why isn’t he with one of them, instead of out here with me?

  “I did, but there was one person I would have liked to dance with,” he murmurs, looking at me.

  “Emily? I think she’s still inside,” I tease. Carrying that bouquet like a trophy.

  “I meant you.”

  I blush, looking at him curiously. “Why?”

  All of a sudden, he makes his way over and sits down next to me. I feel self-conscious at how close he is sitting next to me.

  “What do you mean ‘why’?” He downs the rest of his wine and puts the glass down.

  “I mean all those girls in there.” I gesture to the dance party in the crypt. “I know any of them would love to dance with you. I can’t dance for my life, seriously I have two left feet—”

  “That evening, when I was with you.” He looks at my hair, fastened in its tight bun before focusing his gaze on me. “I should have…done more.”

  I blush some more. “I…I…I—”

  Before I get a chance to respond he shifts closer and I freeze as he touches my cheek with his right hand.

  His hands feel rough and hardened, and yet, they feel nice. He’s good with his hands, I’ve seen it for myself. His thumb brushes my lower lip, and my breathing hitches as he stares into my eyes, that intense, burning gaze. Is he really…? Surely no...am I going to? Should I? Being on my fourth drink is really not helping me with my decision making.

  “Le tue labbra di guardare in modo dolce come una caramella,” he whispers, the smell of tobacco and wine a heady mix, an oddly entrancing aroma. I have no idea what he said, but the way the words curl off his tongue is damn sexy. Where is that dictionary?

  He moves toward me, his eyes as cloudy as mine. Without a second thought, he leans even closer and he puts his arm around me. I tilt my head upwards and he dives right in, and those wonderful lips meet mine. Just a soft peck but it’s hungry, demanding and filled with desire. Not bad, not bad at all.

  “Delizioso,” Matteo says pulling away, clearly happy with that kiss. I think that means delicious, right? Is this really happening, or has the champagne gone straight to me head?

  He looks up towards the hotel. “I’m going to be forward. I want to spend the night with you.”

  Oh my... This is so sudden. One night with a hot Italian, what more could a single girl ask for? I barely know him, I don’t know his favourite colour, his favourite food, if he even likes chocolate!

  “Wow…I don’t know what to say…”

  “You don’t have to say anything…” he puts a finger to my lips. Those eyes sure are persuasive…this is so wrong. Surely there’s something wrong with me for wanting to kiss him again right? I’m never going to see him again, and for some reason that is tempting me more to take him to my room. I always need to know what’s going to happen tomorrow, what’s going to happen in the next ten minutes but I feel like letting my hair down, literally. I deserve to have some fun after all the crap I’ve been through. I need that distraction again.

  He may not be Mr. Right, but he is Mr. Right Tonight.

  ♦

  I turn the key and push the door open to my hotel room, Matteo’s hands firmly planted on my waist. The champagne is now catching up and my head is now swirling like a whirlpool.

  “Sorry for the mess,” I mumble, hoping he ignores the piles of papers scattered all over the table.

  Matteo ignores my comment and promptly spins me around so that I am facing him, evidently keen to continue kissing me. That lustful look in his eyes, I haven’t seen that since…Tristan. Whoa, where did that come from? Shaking my head, I focus on Matteo’s smile, and how beautiful it is. Closing the door behind us, he pulls me close to him so I am pressed up against him by the door, and I can feel a lean but slightly muscular physique underneath that shirt.

  He digs his fingers into the back of my head, massaging my hair. Ow! He’s digging a bit too hard.

  “You have no idea how sexy you are,” his eyes are swimming with lust and I glance down at his trousers. His body seems to agree. I stifle an urge to giggle at seeing his hard on, at the thought of seeing another man’s hard on. With a smirk on his lips, he lifts his shirt off over his head. He might not be super tall or athletic, but he is a man in every sense of the word. A perfect amount of hair on his chest, his trim torso naturally tanned, his arms are strong and robust.

  “So, do you want to have some wine—” I mumble, right before he plants his mouth on mine. I push my chest into his, starting to enjoy the sensation of his smooth olive skin. His hand runs up my waist to brush the side of my breast and tingles form wherever his fingers travel. Our tongues entwine as we explore each other.

  Tristan isn’t a smoker. He doesn’t taste like an ashtray… Gah! Stop thinking about him. I ignore my subconscious and kiss Matteo back hungrily and I can feel his heart beating as it fights to be louder than mine.

  Impatience gets the better of him and he grabs my backside, groaning loudly. I slowly reach for his belt and kissing turns to laughter as I fumble with the buckle. It’s a strange clasp; an unusual design. He gently pushes my hand away and quickly undoes the hook, lowering his pants in an instant. I expect him to continue taking his clothes off but he remains in his boxers and socks, looking at me. Again I have to stifle another urge to laugh at the sight of him half naked and in socks. He is wearing sushi socks!

  Dropping onto his knees, he pushes my skirt up and runs his hands up the back of my legs and I am starting to get nervous at this increasing intimacy. This is all so new, all so overwhelming, but I will it to continue. His fingers tease along my backside and he moves forward. Keeping his hands firmly on my hips, his lips leave hot trails on my thighs. He starts to go higher, towards the apex of my thighs but I pull back, staring down at him. The idea of him doing that to me is way too much right now.

  “Come back and kiss me,” I tease.

  “As you command,” he pushes my skirt down and stands up to join me, eye to eye level. I comb my fingers into his hair, and he kisses me again. This time, the kiss is hungrier. His underwear is the only impediment to him being naked and as he pulls me closer to him, I pause when I feel his arousal. It’s so hard, warm, the perfect size. He sure is packing heat. After six years, he will be t
he second man I’ve been with.

  Matteo quickly takes off his boxers and backs me into the bed, eager to get me out of my clothes and match his fully nude form. I giggle as I plop down onto the cloud of satin and he bends forward by the edge of the bed, sliding my dress up to caress my thighs until he gets to the apex of them, and slips off my underwear in one easy motion. Instead of moaning, it feels ticklish and I can’t stop giggling.

  “Shhh…” he murmurs. “Stay perfectly still.”

  He quickly bends down to grab a foil packet from the back pocket of his trousers, and keeping his back to me, he opens the foil packet and slides it on his manhood. Oh boy, this is happening so quickly…am I ready to go through with this? Matteo comes back to bed, his eyes hungry to finish what he started and he hovers over me, still clothed in all but my panties.

  “You ready?” He breathes heavily on me, and I bite my lip, contemplating his question. What the hell, I’m still in my dress and he wants to get busy already? To be honest, I’m not that ready yet.

  “Umm…”

  “How about I kiss you here…” he murmurs, leaning to trail kisses on my jaw. The area between his legs is just as approving as I feel him press it against my dress, hard.

  “No, kiss my neck,” I demand.

  He smirks. “I like that you’re bossy.”

  Leaning in, he starts kissing my neck and pushes my dress up when his words come to haunt me.

  You’re cute when you’re bossy.

  Gasping loudly, I freeze at the memory of Tristan’s words from that day. I can’t do it. I can’t go through with this knowing I’ll be thinking about him the whole time.

  “Stop,” I say suddenly. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

  He pulls his head up, confused. I can see a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, his erection still pressed up against me; he is definitely ready.

  “This is too sudden…I….” I trail off, struggling to think of the right words to say. He’s naked with a condom on his bloody hard on, for god’s sake. Perfect timing Lacey.

  “Can we just hang out?”

  “What are you talking about? We’re about to—”

  I shake my head furiously, putting a hand on his chest. “Let’s eat cheese and figs, like the other night. You can sketch me, as long as you like.”

  I really like hanging out with him, but that’s it. I can’t give my body to a stranger, no matter how devilishly handsome he is. I just can’t be that girl. Keeping his mouth pressed into a hard line, he rolls off me and plops onto the bed beside me, remaining silent.

  “I’m sorry….” I turn my head to look at him. I can see the rejection in his eyes, as he bites his lip in contemplation.

  “So, you don’t want to…” his nostrils flare loudly, I don’t blame him for hating me right now.

  “No. I don’t,” I mumble. “It’s not you.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  I look at the ceiling, pursing my lips at how to answer this question. “Yes, he just doesn’t know.”

  Matteo shakes his head, keeping his gaze at the ceiling and I hear him mutter something in Italian, presumable a profanity.

  “I’m sorry…I thought I wanted to…” Or so I thought.

  He rolls to his side to face me, and I have no idea what he’s going to do next. Is he going to try and seduce me? Is he going to yell at me? Is he going to get dressed and leave?

  “You really have beautiful hair,” he finally says, smirking at me. “I would love to sketch you again.”

  I had so much fun that night when he sketched me, so this is a no-brainer. I just hope in my tipsy state I can remain still long enough. “Should I do my makeup again?”

  “Si.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The sunlight glares my eyes and my eyes jolt up into consciousness. The sheets are so soft and comfortable. I wake up with a tranquillity one can only get when they wake up alone in bed. I look to my left, to confirm what I knew.

  He's gone. But that's okay, we didn’t need to say goodbye. It would be almost too sad. Instead I wake up with a smile on my face, a perfect ending to my trip here. I got to spend one night with a hot Italian. All I can say is I feel content.

  Kicking off the satin sheets, I wake up with my hair oozing past my shoulders. I stayed up late and I am definitely still hung over but dammit I feel good at how this trip has ended and how last night went down. After agreeing to pose for him again, Matteo got dressed and went to his hotel room to grab his sketchbook and came right back, and he sketched me until the wee hours of the morning until I fell asleep. I don’t know if he stayed with me or if he left straight after; either way it was the perfect send off.

  Gabe was right - there is something in the air here.

  After taking a quick shower, I make my way down to breakfast where Gabe is sipping on a juice. Walking with a bounce in my step, he waves at me as I saunter towards the breakfast table in my blue sun dress. After making my way through the buffet table, I sit down with a plate full of crepes, freshly cut bread, a small jar of Nutella, and ham.

  He beams at me. "Morning, darl! I hope you slept well, yesterday was frantic, huh?”

  I smile at him. I may have not slept much but I got plenty of well-deserved R&R. “I finally got some good rest, you could say.”

  Gabe gawps at me through his aviator sunglasses. “Ugh, tell me about it. I mean, it was awesome to be here and all but I’m always relieved once the day is over. Now we can really relax!”

  “I have to say this was a lot of fun. I’m quite liking the idea of destination weddings. I can’t wait to do more!” I smile coyly to myself.

  Gabe looks at me intently, narrowing his eyes. “Something is different about you. I can't put my finger on it.”

  I point to my dress. “This maybe? It's an old one actually.”

  He shakes his head. “No, that's not it.”

  I start attacking the crepes with my knife and fork. “Maybe it was to do with the fact I spent the night with Matteo…” I look at him cheekily.

  Gabe’s jaw drops, slamming his glass. “FUCK. ME. HARD. Are you serious?!” An elderly couple turns around.

  My face reddens, and I try my best not to laugh out loud. “Shhh! I don’t think the kitchen staff could hear you loud enough.”

  “Shit! Did you two? I want all the dirty details!”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Bullshit, seriously tell me!”

  Wagging my finger at him, I shake my head. “I mean it was really fun but—”

  A coy smile creeps up on his face. “Well you’re not the only one who got busy. I did something last night.”

  “You mean someone. Rodrigo?” I ask, quickly distracted by his change of topic.

  “Well yes, if you must ask.” He leans in to whisper. “Oh my, there’s just something about the men here that just makes them so…delicious!”

  “Okay we have plenty of time to gab on the way home, let’s go pack—”

  “Umm about that…I’m going to have let you pack on your own.”

  I frown. “Huh? Our flight is in eight hours. We have to be on that bus to Naples at 11am.”

  Gabe breathes quietly, looking up at me anxiously. “Rodrigo wants to take me down to Capri and introduce me to his other friends, I really want to stay. Is that okay?”

  “So you want me to…” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. He wants me to fly alone for twenty-four hours?! Suddenly I don’t want to eat anymore.

  He looks worried all of a sudden. “I’m sorry if that isn’t okay, I can say no—”

  I place my hand on his. Its fine, I’m okay with flying…I think. Besides, that’s what I brought the meds for.

  “No, please stay.” I smile at him. “Go party!”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod, “I promise. As long as I have lots of music and keep myself busy, its heaps of fun. Besides, I'm ready to go back home, happy to close this chapter on Italy.” I grin to myself. “I had a great time.”
/>
  “I’ll bet you did, pounding that stud! You go girl.”

  “Nothing like that happened! I’m serious,” I insist.

  “Yeah right. I’ll believe you turned down the chance to sleep with him when hell freezes over,” he winks at me coyly. I shake my head to protest but I need to leave and I kiss Gabe goodbye, saying farewell to him instead, as I head out of the dining hall.

  I wish he would come home with me. But I would never deprive him of the chance for a bit more eye candy, so I’m going to leave my best friend in this gorgeous country for a little while longer.

  ♦

  I peer down at my suitcase, groaning at how small it is. How the hell am I going to fit everything in this tiny brown box? I don’t have much time and I set on my mission of extreme folding. Like a game of Tetris, I start with the clothes and roll them up, squishing them at the bottom to create the padded base. Then goes my work stuff, which takes up another ninety per cent of the space and I have just enough space for my toiletries. I push the lid down and I can barely zip it shut.

  All of a sudden, there is a knocking on my door. Who could this be?

  I open it, and am greeted by one of the hotel concierge staff. Dressed sharply in a maroon shirt and black pants, he’s middle aged and portly, cheerful looking. He has a big yellow envelope in his hands.

  “Buongiorno! This for you,” he greets me with his thick accent.

  “For me?” I didn’t ask for anything to be delivered to me, this is odd.

  He pushes the envelope forward, almost putting it in my hands and walks away in a hurry. Holding the envelope, I shake it gently. It’s light, very light. I’m not going to speculate, and I tear it open, peeking inside. Oh my, never in a million years did I expect this.