What Happens in Italy

Chapter 4

Ethan knew Penny had wanted him to kiss her, and he'd definitely wanted the same, but he'd settled for her cheek like a kind uncle. Not like a guy who wanted to press her up against a wall and attack her mouth.

He was an idiot.

"Look who's back," Jake said as Ethan entered the house. "And so early, too."

Ethan glared at his friend, who was currently sitting with a disheveled looking Viviana in his lap. "Sorry to interrupt, and shut up."

"Must not have gone well," Jake said to Viviana, and she giggled.

"It was fine, thank you," Ethan shot back.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nothing much to talk about. Just dinner and some drinks. I think she's going to join us when we go to San Gimignano in a few days." She'd waffled when he'd asked, but he was determined to convince her.

"I can't wait to get to know her better."

Ethan didn't trust the gleam in Jake's eyes, and he pointed his finger at Jake. "You better be on your best behavior."

Jake laughed. "I'm always on my best behavior."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."

"Want to have a drink with us?" Jake asked.

"Nah, I think I'll turn in," he said as he started down the hall to his room.

"Suit yourself. We'll try to keep it down," Jake said.

Ethan grimaced and he headed off to bed. Just what he wanted to hear, Jake getting some while Ethan thought about Penny alone in her hotel room.

* * *

"Try this," Ethan said the following evening as he lifted his fork to Penny's mouth. They'd spent the day touring museums and were now halfway through dinner at another restaurant in the piazza. According to Penny's guidebook, it was one of the best places to eat in Siena. She did everything by that guidebook. It baffled him that he found it so adorable, seeing those pink flags diminish at a rapid rate.

"Mmm, that's good," she said, her lips enveloping his fork.

Shit. He was jealous of a fork. Every time he watched her wrap her lips around the tines and whisper out small moans of enjoyment, he shifted in his seat. He imagined her lips on various parts of his body, and he got harder. Think about getting slammed into the boards in a game. About how pissed he was that they'd lost in the first round of the playoffs this year because of a bullshit penalty he'd taken.

He set down his fork and took a fortifying sip of wine. "Told you." They were on their second bottle and their second course. If they drank a bottle per course, they'd both be on the floor by dessert.

"Have a bite of mine," she said, popping a ravioli in his mouth. The fresh pasta filled with sausage and ricotta melted on his tongue.

He grinned. "So good."

"I can't believe you're going to be here for Il Palio, and I'm going to miss it by two days," she said between bites of food.

"Extend your vacation. Do you have anything pressing to get back to?" Like a boyfriend?

"I've taken enough time off work."

"So, it's just work to get back to?" He was fishing hard, and he didn't miss how the smile dropped from her face.

"Yes. Just work," she said, her response short.

He knew a landmine when he'd stepped on it. Served him right for prying. He wanted to know more about her, but work talk was off the table. And as much as he loved playing hockey for a living, he didn't want to talk about it. Keeping everything surface level was safer, and clearly what she also wanted.