Austen.Fuck do I like calling her that now that she knows what it means.
Her face softens at the term of endearment. “Without a doubt.”
“That’s my girl,” I say as I take off down the crowded city streets. Peeking over at her out of the corner of my eye, I’m mesmerized by the way her dark hair whips in the open air. The dark red leather interior of the Ferrari against her tanned complexion makes my blood boil.
When we roll to a stop at the first stop sign, I turn to Dakota and pull her toward me for a lingering kiss. “I’d like to propose a new road trip rule,” I suggest.
“And what would that be?”
“We kiss at every stop sign and red light.”
She snorts as if what I’ve suggested is the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “We’ll never make it to Venice.”
“We’ll make it there, but we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I’ve wanted to kiss you for over 365 days now, and I only got my first taste of you last night. Besides, I’m the driver, and I made it a car rule, so as my passenger princess, you must abide by all car rules.”
That earns me an eye roll, so I reach over and place my palm on her leg, giving the inside of her thigh a few squeezes that make her squeal out in laughter.
By the third stop sign, Dakota is the one leaning over the center console to kiss me. The moment her mouth opens for me, I groan in delight at the sweet taste of her. Without another car in sight, we get lost in this moment—in each other.
How I survived as long as I did without kissing her is beyond me. The feel of her lips on mine has turned me into the most ravenous man—now that I’ve had a taste, I’ll never be able to get my fill. I want to kiss her every hour of every day.
A shrill honk comes from the car now behind us, followed by expletives shouted in Italian.
Dakota slides back into her seat, covering her mouth to muffle her laughter. I don’t bother holding mine in as I bark out a deep chuckle. Taking a moment longer, I press play on my road trip playlist I made last night.
“Your Love” by The Outfield sounds through the speakers just as I hit the gas pedal. With one arm on the wheel, I use my fist as an imaginary microphone and waggle my brows at her as I serenade the first lines to Dakota.
The drive from Milan to Venice as we wind down the streets of northern Italy is breathtaking. We decided to stop about midway in Bergamo, which is a city full of Renaissance architecture and narrow stone streets. Only about an hour longer into the drive, we stopped along the shoreline of Lake Garda and explored the thirteenth-century castle there. We made one final stop in Verona, which brought out the history nerd in me. Dakota was fascinated that it was the setting for Shakespeare’sRomeo and Juliet.
The sun is just starting to set as we enter Venice, one of the places I’m most excited about. As I park the Ferrari and put the top up, I open Dakota’s door before grabbing our day bags out of the trunk.
When Dakota presses me up against the side of the car, I drop the bags to the ground and grab her around the waist, pulling her in between my legs to eliminate all space between us.
She runs her hands up my chest before raking her fingers through the hair at my nape. Her emerald eyes are alight with mischief as she asks, “We’re stopped, aren’t we, Golden Boy?”
Our lips crash together in a kiss that is every bit as needy as it is greedy. She takes charge, and when I open for her, I groan at the taste of her. Sliding my hands down, I cup her ass in my palms and give it a firm squeeze. Dakota lets out a soft whimper, and the sound goes straight to my hardening cock. With her pressed against me, I know she can feel what she’s doing to me.
Nothing has ever felt better than kissing Dakota. When we got back to the hotel last night, we spent hours with our lips exploring and our limbs a tangled mess until we fell asleep wrapped up in one another.
I break away from her lips, and when I see hers red and swollen, I just about say “fuck it” and go back for more. “Austen, if we keep this up, we’re going to be detained in a foreign country for indecent exposure,” I warn.
Her cheeks break out in the most adorable blush before she hides her head against my chest. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I just did that—in public of all places. I’m so sorry; I don’t know what came over me.”
Pulling her shoulders back, I lift her chin so she can see the sincerity on my face. “Hey, look at me, Dakota.” Once her green eyes meet mine, I continue, “You don’t ever have to apologize for kissing me. I don’t mind PDA if you’re okay with it. But I knew if we continued to kiss like that for much longer, I’d be dealing with a different situation.”
Biting her lip, she nods her head. “I’ve never been one for PDA. Heck, if I’m being honest, I’ve never been that into kissing. It always felt like something you do just to get to the next step—like going through the motions. But with you, kissing feels like we’re creating a piece of art—I want to get lost in the craft of your lips, the strokes of our tongues, the way you bite my lip before sucking on it. And it seems I also don’t give a damn who sees or where we do it. You’re completely unraveling me, Mr. Wilder.”
Her eyes widen as she finishes her admission, as if she didn’t intend to divulge all of that to me aloud. I fucking love it when she turns bashful like this.
“Damn, Dream Girl. That was poetic, and I think I liked that admission far too much. I’m unraveling you, am I?” I tease, chuckling as I pull her in to give her another chaste kiss before wrapping my arm around her shoulder and grabbing our bags from the ground. “Come on, a boat is waiting for us on the Grand Canal to take us to our hotel. I’m really excited what I have planned, so I hope you’re ready for what’s in store for us here.”
When we get to the boat, Dakota gasps as she takes in the serene scene before us. “This is stunning, Carson.”
It absolutely is. The sun is setting over the buildings, painting the sky in pale pink and an array of oranges that reflect on the water. We get into the polished wooden boat, and the driver takes off toward the hotel. If she thinks this is stunning, I can’t wait for her to take in the hotel I’ve chosen for our stay here.
“Did you know Venice is built on over 118 small islands, and there are 400 bridges for people to get around?” I ask her.
“I didn’t, but the bridges are all so unique and beautiful,” she says in awe. “Oh, like that one!” She points to the stone bridge ahead.
