This was happening, this was really happening. Marcello helped me pull my dress up over my head as I straddled him on the bed. My hands made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pulling it apart and revealing his ridiculous landscape of muscle and curves, my hands sliding over to admire its beauty, more intriguing than any map I had ever followed. Marcello was just as interested in my dips and curves. He sat up and kissed my rib cage, while sliding his hand up to unhook my bra. He peeled one strap over my shoulder, exposing the pink bud on my milky, untanned breast, which he took into his mouth, circling his tongue and sucking, before shifting his attention to my other breast.

My head fell back, breath escaping me as I stared, unseeing, at the ceiling, pushing into his mouth. Despite the heady sensations, the slight flicker of the fluorescent light bulb began to frustrate me; in my need for Marcello I hadn’t even worried about the light, but now I wanted to slide away my final barrier.

‘Wait a minute, I’m just going to turn off the light,’ I breathed against his mouth, edging away. Marcello looked disappointed but he didn’t stop me. As I moved to the door I took a moment to look at him, splayed out on my bed, and for a moment I was afraid to turn off the light, that somehow he might disappear. He lay against my pillows, watching me and working on unbuckling and unzipping his pants with a cocky grin. It was all the motivation I needed to flick the switch, blushing so fiercely I had to take a moment before I slowly made my way back to the bed.

My knees hit the edge of the mattress and Marcello’s hand snaked out, pulling me towards him, encircling me with his strong arms and coaxing me to open my mouth to him. Like a magician’s sleight of hand, I hadn’t even noticed he was sliding down my panties until they were pooling at my feet. I breathed hard against his mouth, and smiled.

I, Sammi Shorten, unworldly, boring, mousey traveller, am about to have a one-night stand in Italy, with a gorgeous man with a—OH, MY GOD—

I could feel the hard length of him digging into my hip; skimming my hand down over him, I felt my heart stop. He wasn’t going to fit—there was just no way. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had had sex: eight, nine months ago? This was no way to ease back into the game. I tried to keep my voice from shaking.

‘Um, do you have … protection?’

Would there be a condom big enough?

Marcello kissed the corner of my mouth. ‘Of course.’

Happy to hear we were on the same page, I rewarded him with a kiss, sliding my tongue inside while exploring the long, hard length of him in my hand, pumping and kissing him so hard I heard him groan against my lips, from pleasure or pain I couldn’t tell. It only made me move faster, loving the feel of him, almost wishing I had left the light on so I could see his face as I worked him into a frenzy. I revelled in the power of having Marcello, so confident in everything he did, at my mercy, and hearing him swear in his native tongue turned me on all the more. Just when I thought he couldn’t take any more, the power was reversed and Marcello moved my hand away, flipping me onto my back and pushing my legs apart; without missing a beat his head dipped between my thighs.

‘Holy shit!’ I slapped my hand over my mouth, muting the unearthly whimpers and swearing that I had no control over, as Marcello dug his fingers into my thighs and pushed his tongue deep inside me, tasting and teasing. Caught between heaven and hell, I rocked into him, cupping the back of his head and encouraging him, pleading with him not to stop—until it became too much. I couldn’t take any more and I was pushing him away, but he clamped my thighs open until I screamed so loud I was certain they would hear me on the eighth floor.

My body limp, beaded with sweat and practically hyperventilating, I could hear the vibration of Marcello’s laughter against my thigh. I didn’t know if I loved or hated him in that moment, all I knew was that he was a genius. He crawled up my body, rolling to the side; he leant his head on his hand, catching his own breath.

‘You sure?’ he asked; it was a simple question, one that meant this was over if I wanted it to be. Fooling around with a sexy stranger on holiday was one thing, but letting him inside me, giving a piece of myself away, well, that wasn’t me. I don’t know if he guessed that, or if he was just doing the right thing, but I was glad he asked; as adamant as I had thought I was about wanting to go further, now I wasn’t so certain.

‘Don’t be mad …’

Marcello’s hand, which had been sliding over my skin, stopped abruptly at my words. I couldn’t see his face and didn’t know what his eyes conveyed, but I knew how he felt the moment he moved his hand up to my face, touching me so gently and caressing the horrid bumps on my face. He breathed out a laugh and I could just make out the silhouette of his head shaking.

‘You are completely mad, but I could never be mad at you.’

I smiled, melting against his hand and feeling the warmth and sincerity of his words. I cursed Pompeii, and Venice and every destination that had me leaving tomorrow, because I knew that if I had more time there would be no reservations, which was utterly insane. Oh, sure, Sammi, because a seven-night-stand would make this so much more meaningful. Idiot.

Regardless, what we had was us, here, tonight. My body was still reeling from the aftermath of my orgasm, but if this night was truly going to be one to remember then it couldn’t possibly end like this.

Marcello, being the gentleman, rolled onto his back, probably thinking of any number of turn-offs to get rid of his erection. I smiled and rolled over to kiss his shoulder, sliding my hand over his rib cage, then slowly down his six-pack and lower still. I could hear him swallow hard as I touched him.

‘Sammi.’ He said my name as a warning, strained.

I moved over him, kissing his jaw, his neck, his chest, his nipple.

Marcello ran his fingers through my hair. ‘Sammi, what are you doing?’ I didn’t answer, I simply trailed a determined line down, down. Marcello fisted his hands into my hair, his hips pushing forward as I took him into my mouth.

‘Cazzo dell’inferno!’ he gritted.

Whatever that meant, I hoped it was a good thing.