Off the Itinerary

MM Travel Romance
by Jace Wilder

📚 Free with Kindle Unlimited

Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Strangers to Lovers, Travel Romance, Vacation Fling, Grumpy/Sunshine, Forced Proximity, One Bed, Praise Kink, Opposites Attract, Whirlwind Romance

His itinerary had forty-two stops. Falling for a stranger in Lisbon wasn’t one of them.

Elliott Marsh plans everything. His two-week European vacation has a spreadsheet, color-coded tabs, and buffer time for the buffer time. It’s the trip he was supposed to take on his honeymoon — before his fiancé decided six weeks ago that he’d rather marry someone spontaneous.

Rafael Costa doesn’t plan anything. He’s a travel photographer with a one-way ticket lifestyle, a camera worth more than his rent, and a personal rule: never more than three nights in one city, never more than one night with one man.

When an airline meltdown strands them both in Lisbon and a booking error puts them in the same tiny room — one bed, no refunds, festival weekend — Elliott’s itinerary starts hemorrhaging stops. Rafael keeps showing him the version of every city that isn’t in the guidebook. Rooftops at 2 AM. Food stalls with no names. The way a night can go anywhere when someone whispers trust me against your neck.

Three nights becomes five cities. One bed becomes every bed. And two men with opposite rules about everything discover the one thing neither of them planned for: not wanting the trip to end.

You’ll love this book if you enjoy:

✅ Vacation fling that catches feelings across four countries
✅ Grumpy planner x sunshine wanderer
✅ One-bed booking errors (repeatedly, suspiciously)
✅ Praise kink whispered in two languages
✅ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, explicit, hotel-room-destroying
✅ An epilogue with a boarding pass and a ring
✅ HEA guaranteed

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⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes including semi-public encounters and praise kink), strong language, a recently broken engagement (off-page), brief depictions of anxiety, and alcohol use. Intended for readers 18+.

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Chapter One: Cancelled

The departures board updated at 6:47 PM, and Elliott Marsh watched fourteen days of meticulous planning die in real time.

CANCELLED. Not delayed. Not rescheduled. Cancelled, in red letters, next to the 7:30 to Barcelona that was supposed to be Row 14, Item 3 of the itinerary — the itinerary currently open on his phone, on his tablet, and in laminated hard copy in the outer pocket of his carry-on, because redundancy was not paranoia, redundancy was love.

Around him, the Lisbon airport erupted into the specific chaos of three hundred strangers realizing simultaneously that their evenings were ruined. Elliott did not erupt. Elliott took out his phone, opened his contingency document — he had a contingency document — and discovered that the airline’s app had crashed, the rebooking line already stretched past the duty-free, and every flight to Barcelona for the next two days was sold out because of a festival he had specifically planned his trip to avoid.

“Okay,” he said quietly, to no one. “Okay. This is fine. This is a solvable —”

“It’s not,” said a voice beside him, warm and amused and entirely too relaxed for the circumstances. “The app’s dead, the line’s four hours, and the festival ate every hotel room in the city by noon. Ask me how I know.”

Elliott turned. The man leaning against the column next to him had a battered camera slung across his chest, dark curls escaping a knot at the back of his head, and the unbothered posture of someone whose plans had never once survived contact with reality and who had made peace with that around age nine.

“How do you know?” Elliott asked, against his better judgment.

“Because I just spent twenty minutes charming a woman at the help desk, and all I got was her condolences and a meal voucher.” He held up the voucher, then held out his other hand. “Rafael. My flight died too. Yours was the Barcelona one?”

“Elliott. And yes.”

“Elliott.” Rafael said it slowly, like he was deciding whether to keep it. He nodded at the laminated itinerary sticking out of Elliott’s bag. “Is that… laminated?”

“It’s water-resistant.”

“It’s beautiful, is what it is. I haven’t seen anything that organized in years. Can I photograph it? For anthropology.”

Elliott looked at this man — this stranger with paint on one boot and three boarding passes from three different airlines folded into his camera strap — and felt his carefully catalogued evening plans reorganize themselves around a single unscheduled variable.

“I found one room,” Rafael said. “Guesthouse in Alfama, last one in the city, and the only reason it’s still available is that the booking site listed it twice and cancelled somebody. It’s small, it’s up four flights, and there’s one bed.” He smiled, slow and completely shameless. “I’m telling you this because you look like a man who’s about to sleep in an airport chair out of principle, and honestly? That would haunt me.”

“I don’t share rooms with strangers.”

“Great news,” Rafael said, shouldering his bag. “By the time we get there, we won’t be strangers.”

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Layover — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon

Six months later. A nine-hour layover in Amsterdam, an airport hotel with soundproof walls, and Elliott’s first-ever itinerary with only one item on it. Rafael makes him read it out loud. Then they complete it. Twice.

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