Page 24

23

August

W e’ve just loaded our day bags into the trunk of the sexiest fucking convertible on the planet. And nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, gets my blood pumping faster than when I look over and see Dakota’s eyes hazy with lust when I rev the engine, and it purrs to life.

“Carson,” she haphazardly warns.

“Do you trust me, Austen?”

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’s Romeo 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.

“That is Ponte di Rialto. It was constructed in the late sixteenth century, about the same time as the hotel we’re going to stay at,” I explain.

When we pull up to the Aman, a historic hotel that is situated on the Grand Canal, Dakota turns to me wide-eyed. “This isn’t our hotel, is it?”

“Of course it is. Come on,” I tell her as I step up onto the dock and offer her my hand. She grabs ahold and climbs out of the boat.

Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guide us to the reception desk to check in.

“ Buonasera ,” I say to the receptionist.

While I’m checking in, I notice Dakota taking in the impressive lobby. I can’t wait to show her some of the hidden gems this place has to offer. This is undoubtedly the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in, and I’m willing to bet she would say the same.

Once I’ve got our key, I guide her up the grand marble staircase to our room overlooking the Grand Canal. Entering through intricate wood-carved doors, we walk through the large entryway where the concierge has placed our luggage. There is a sitting room off to the left, with the bedroom to the right.

“I, uh, got a one bedroom. But they can set up the sitting room to be a second bedroom if you’d prefer not to share. I had originally booked it with that in mind, but after our stay in Milan . . . well, I’ll just come out and say it. I loved sleeping with you in my arms, Austen.”

A shy smile spreads across Dakota’s face. “I don’t want separate bedrooms either,” she says as she walks into the room and takes it in. With my hands in my pockets, I lean against the doorframe and watch as she checks out the marble fireplace before turning and dragging her fingers across the plush comforter on the bed. “This place is majestic.”

“When I saw the photos online, I thought maybe this place would inspire you. I requested they put a writing desk in the sitting room in case you had the urge to write,” I admit.

She doesn’t reply at first, instead she just stares at me with an unreadable expression. The moment I see her eyes begin to swell with tears, I push off the doorframe and take her in my arms. My heart pounds in my chest when I don’t immediately feel her wrap her arms around me.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

Dakota shakes her head, wrapping her arms around my waist as she pulls back to look up into my eyes. “No, nothing is wrong. I-I’m just so thankful. You didn’t have to do any of this—suggest I come, take extra time away from training to be here with me, plan the entire trip down to the smallest detail like requesting there be a writing desk in our room,” she pauses to sniffle through the tears threatening to spill. “I can’t believe you’re real. And you’re choosing to be here with me.”

Rubbing my hands up and down her back, I reply, “Well, believe it, Dream Girl. Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be and no one else I’d rather have by my side.”

Lifting up on her tiptoes, she places a soft kiss along the edge of my jaw, dragging her lips before placing another on my chin. With her lips still on my skin, she whispers, “I should freshen up, and then do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

“Yeah, I was thinking we could order room service for tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

“That sounds perfect,” she replies.

“Okay, I’ll start unpacking while you’re in there, and then I’ll hop in the shower when you’re finished,” I tell her. Knowing she’ll be in there naked and wet with soap running down her body is giving my cock unwarranted hope.

“I’ll be quick,” she says as she grabs a few items from her suitcase and heads into the ensuite.

I’ve just finished hanging up my suit when Dakota calls out, “Hey, Carson, could you help me for a second?”

“Yeah, what’s u—” I cut off as I take in the sight before me.

Dakota is sitting in the large soaking tub in the middle of the bathroom. Sure, bubbles cover her body, but I know she’s naked beneath them.

Clearing my throat, I try to play it cool. “What can I do for you?”

I take in her flushed cheeks, her hazy eyes, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest as it bobs up from the water before sinking back under.

“I can’t reach my back,” she states. “Could you wash it for me?”

Wash it for her? Fuck me.

I take a calming breath and reply, “Yeah, I can do that.”

She grabs a sponge from the tray beside the tub and hands it to me. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” I croak.

Get your shit together, man.

“No, thank you,” she hums.

That sound, in combination with the way the bubbles disappear as she moves forward, exposing her full back to me, has my dick hard again within seconds.

Feeling weak in the knees as she gleams wickedly over her shoulder at me, I kneel down beside the tub and wet the sponge, squeezing it down her spine. I’m hypnotized, completely bewitched, as I follow the trickles of the sudsy water trail down her skin.

Heavy breaths fill the space between us, and I’m not entirely sure if they’re hers or my own.

After two passes over her skin with the sponge, I drop it into the water and use my hands to massage her shoulders.

“Mmm, Carson. That feels so good,” she moans, and it echoes against the walls.

“Here, let me wash your hair,” I offer as I remove the clip holding it up.

Reaching into the water to find the sponge, I touch the soft curve of her ass, and when she presses herself further into my palm, I freeze.

“Dakota,” I growl in warning.

“Touch me, please,” she begs, arching her back, causing her dusty pink nipples to rise from the bubbles. They’re pebbled and beckoning me to put them in my mouth for a taste.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” I rasp.

“So don’t. I need you to touch me, Carse,” she pleads, and I can’t deny her.

I lace my fingers through her hair, bringing my mouth to hers, and when she bites my bottom lip before sucking it, I let out a low groan.

“Tell me what you like, Dakota. I want to make you feel everything.”

“I don’t know what I like. I just know that when you touch me, I feel more than I’ve ever felt before,” she confesses.

Trailing my fingers from her lips, down the nape of her neck, to the slope of her breasts, I grab one into my hand and squeeze it.

“The perfect handful. Do you think you were made just for me?”

She whimpers in response.

“I think so too,” I say, pressing my lips against her jaw.

Rolling one nipple between my fingers, I take her other nipple into my mouth, grazing my teeth over it before sucking it.

“Oh, Jesus,” she keens as I remove my mouth with a pop and give the same attention to the other side.

Dakota arches her back further and squeezes her thighs together as she squirms in the water. I draw my fingers over her stomach, circling her hip bones and stopping my trail just above her pelvis. Her legs fall open, causing the bubbles to disperse, giving me the perfect view of her bare pussy.

“Fuck, Austen. Look at your pretty pussy, just begging to be played with. Is that what you want?”

She nods her head in reply as her chest heaves in my other hand.

“Give me your words, and I’ll give you my fingers,” I command.

She eagerly complies. “Play with me. Touch me. Please, Carson,” she breathes.

Giving her what she wants, I drag my fingers through her slit before circling her entrance and teasing one inside her. She’s so fucking tight that when I add a second finger, I’m met with resistance even though she’s absolutely soaked.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I grind out.

I slowly pump my fingers in and out of her a few times before circling her clit with my thumb.

Sensing she needs more, I add a third finger at the same time as I take her nipple back into my mouth.

“Ah, fuck! Don’t stop. I-I’m right there,” she stammers.

Pumping my fingers harder, I hook them up, wiggling them back and forth against her g-spot when I feel her begin to clench around me.

“Carson!” she cries a moment later as her body finds its release, and she pulses around my fingers.

I release her nipple and crash my lips to hers as she rides out the aftershocks of her orgasm.

She whimpers against my lips when I pull my fingers out. Her eyes widen when I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck them clean. I can’t help the low groan that slips out when I get my first taste of her.

“I-I think this place has to go in the book,” she half stutters, half sighs as she sinks back into the water.

I chuckle at that. “Let me wash your hair while you brainstorm some scenes. Didn’t you tell me the other night that you get your best ideas while you’re washing your hair or driving?”

Dakota stares up at me as I reach for her shampoo. “How are you even real?” she asks.

Taking her hand in mine, I kiss the inside of her wrist. “These fingers will type a best-seller someday; I just know it. In the meantime, I’ve got to give you all the inspiration for what your male main character should be doing. Why do you think I read as many of the books you leave around the house as I can? If I want to be the best real-life boyfriend, I have to stack up to your book boyfriends.”

She giggles at me, shaking her head as she moves her hand to cup my face and brushes my cheek with her thumb. “I don’t want you to be like any of the men I read about in books. I like you just the way you are, Golden Boy. You’re already far better than any fictitious man I could ever imagine.”

I waggle my eyebrows at that. “And we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.”

After I finish washing her hair, I dip my arms beneath the water, scoop her up in my arms, and carry her to our bed.

“Carson!” she squeals in disbelief when I toss her onto the bed. “I’m going to get it all wet.”

“I don’t care. I’ll have housekeeping change the sheets after we order room service. For now, I just want to snuggle with you, Dream Girl.”

And so we do. I tuck us in beneath the blankets and we order far too much room service for just the two of us. We stay up talking for so long that my voice becomes hoarse, and our eyes struggle to stay open. When she trails off mid-sentence and her breathing turns shallow, I softly chuckle to myself.

Dakota came crashing into my life a year ago, and even though I knew she was my dream girl, I never anticipated we’d be where we are right now. I pull her tighter against my chest and gently squeeze her hand resting atop my chest three times before drifting off to sleep with a full heart.