Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
The car turns sharply, and I suck in a breath when Matteo's thumb grazes the sensitive crease of my thigh.
The driver coughs softly, and I snap back to reality.
"You're a menace," I hiss under my breath.
"You love it," Matteo replies. He leans in close so that his lips brush against the shell of my ear, and I swear my heart actually stutters.
The car rolls to a stop in front of Matteo's mansion, and the driver glances into the rearview mirror.
“Siamo qua.” We’re here.
I fumble for the door handle, desperate to escape the stifling heat of the car. Matteo pays the driver with infuriating calm, then steps out after me.
The cool night air should help to distract me.
It doesn't.
Matteo falls into step beside me as we cross the driveway, his hand reaching out to intertwine with mine, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension crackling like a live wire between us.
When we reach the front door, he unlocks it and steps aside to let me in. The door closes with a quiet click, and suddenly, the villa feels enormous. Silent.
Private.
I take a single step toward the staircase before Matteo's hand closes around my wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
"To bed," I manage, pulse hammering.
"Right," he says, his lips curving into a smirk as he steps in close behind me. "But I'm not done with you yet."
*
The hours that follow blur into a haze of heated skin, tangled limbs, and whispered endearments in a mixture of English and Italian.
Matteo moves with a kind of focused intensity that leaves me breathless. He doesn’t rush. Instead, he takes his time, drawing out every reaction until my body trembles beneath his touch, strung tight with anticipation.
His mouth maps a slow, torturous path down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He pauses at the base of my throat, pressing his lips to the erratic pulse there.
And when he chuckles softly at the way my breath hitches, I want to throttle him.
"You're enjoying this," I grumble.
"Of course." His voice is low and gravelly. "You're beautiful like this, cara. So desperate for me."
"I'm not desperate," I lie, even as I arch into the firm press of his hands.
He lifts his head, eyes glinting with amusement.
"No?"
"No.”
His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I bite back a groan.
"Liar," he murmurs, ducking his head to capture the sensitive peak in his mouth.
His tongue flicks, sucks, teases until I’m squirming beneath him, torn between wanting to push him away and pull him closer.
My fingers tangle in his dark hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as he lavishes attention on my body. He moves with maddening precision - every kiss, every touch delivered with the control of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
It should be infuriating.
Instead, it’s just devastatingly effective.
His mouth trails lower, pausing at the curve of my hip. His stubble rasps against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine.
"Matteo," I breathe.
He glances up at me, lips curving into a wicked smile.
"Yes, bella?"
"This… this is torture."
"Good." His voice turns darker, rougher. "I want you to remember this. How it feels when I touch you. How it feels when I make you fall apart."
"You're so full of yourself," I manage.
He nips at the inside of my thigh, making me yelp.
"And you're full of attitude."
His hand slides up to my hip, gripping it firmly.
"But I like it. Makes it more fun when I break you."
Before I can respond, his mouth moves between my legs, and my thoughts dissolve into pure sensation.
*
By the time Matteo finally collapses beside me, my body is utterly spent.
My skin glows with warmth, my muscles hum with exhaustion, and my heart races from the aftershocks of pleasure that still linger beneath the surface.
"Bloody hell," I whisper, flinging an arm across my face. "You're relentless."
Matteo laughs beside me, the sound low and satisfied.
"You kept up."
"Yeah, barely," I sigh, peeking at him through my fingers and find him watching me with a lazy smile.
His hair is a mess, his chest slick with sweat, and I can't help but think he looks absurdly good like this.
"Are you always this... intense?" I ask.
"Only when it matters." He shifts onto his side, running his hand along my hip. "And you, bella, definitely matter."
My stomach flutters even as I groan.
"God, you're smooth."
"It's not smooth. It's honest," he chuckles as his thumb traces circles on my skin. "Can't help it if the truth sounds like a line."
I laugh softly, but the warmth of his words lingers.
We lie there for a while, the silence broken only by the sound of our breathing, and I let my eyes drift to a close as exhaustion creeps in.
Matteo pulls me closer, fitting my back against his chest. His hand slips beneath the sheet, resting possessively on my stomach as his lips brush against the nape of my neck.