I rolled my eyes, pretending not to be affected by the fact that I was finally experiencing the real him. Sweatpantsand a crewneck, on a regular day. It made me aware I’d never seen him this relaxed – even Hawaii, was just suits and swim-trunks. But this felt… Intimate. Domestic.
He took a seat across me at the kitchen island, and poured himself some coffee.
“How long you been up?”
I shrugged. “Not long.”Four hours.
“You had a chance to look around?”
“Yeah, I love it.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad.”
“Mhm,” I pressed my lips together, focusing on my coffee instead of the six-five, two-hundred-pounds-plus man in front of me who’d fucked me every which way to Sunday, without actually being inside me.
Matteo stood and walked around the island. “You got plans tonight? I was thinking we could–”
“I do, actually. Yes.”
“You do?” He rounded the counter, raising a brow.
“That’s what I said, Matteo.” I stood, trying to get past him, but he blocked my way.
“So if I asked any of the girls, they’d say you got plans together?”
I swallowed dry. “Not with the girls.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I’m going out. I guess I’ll see.”
“See what?”
“What’s out there.”
He smirked, not falling for it. “Really?”
“Mhm…” I nodded but didn’t sound convinced.
“Yeah… There’s not a chance in Hell that’s happening,wife.” He leaned in, catching me in his arms. “Not after oursteamingwedding night. I still got wet dreams about this pussy.”
“You can dirty talk all you want, Matteo. I’m going out.”
“You can do whatever you want, baby. But you’re not ‘seeing what’s out there.’”
Before I could retort, his big hands squeezed my waist and lifted me up until I was sat on the kitchen island. Matteo stepped between my legs, settled his hands on either side of me and leaned in. An effort to break down my control.
“I’m not going to go celibate for a year for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” He murmured, kissing my neck.
