He was still inside of me, and when he spread my ass cheeks even further, a dangerous sound rumbled through his chest, and he moved faster, harder again—this time, exploding inside of me with a curse that echoed in the cavernous bathroom. His seed dripped down my legs, and he watched it, a satisfied look in his dark eyes.
A minute or two later, instead of cleaning me up, like usual, he helped me into my robe. Then he turned me around and set me on the counter. He grabbed my toothbrush and added toothpaste to it. He made a motion for me to open my mouth, and when I did, he stared at it for a second before he started to brush my teeth for me.
It was a running joke in the family that Scarlett was obsessed with dental hygiene, but she was, and she’d imparted that same obsession on her children. Matteo was almost fanatical about it. No shit, though, he had the most gorgeous teeth, so I wasn’t mad at it. Especially when he dazzled me with them by smiling.
A whimper almost left my chest when I thought about his smile being lost to this version of him. It was dangerous enough to kill that other part and take him away from me forever.
He was still pissed, or maybe he was just hurt by the things I’d said. I’d picked a fight with him over fucking glass that would only give us the use of the pool all year long. I wanted to say something so bad, and I tried over and over to think of a way to start the conversation. I really did, but every time I went to open my mouth, my mind reminded me that it all sounded like excuses, and that was so lame.
I’m sorry,I really didn’t mean it, and I have no idea why I even started the fightseemed like a good direction to go in, but by the time I decided on it, he’d finished brushing his teeth and had picked me up. I practically melted into his arms, my eyes so heavy I could barely keep them open.
I didn’t even care that my thighs were saturated with his seed, and I was going to sleep with it on me. He wanted his scent on me, and that was what he was going to get. He’d drained me of energy.
I wanted to snuggle up to my pillow, but even that was too much. I felt the dip in the bed when he eased in behind me. “Ilove you, Matteo,” I whispered. “Thank you…for not leaving me, even if I did say things I didn’t mean and hurt you.”
He didn’t make a sound, just pulled my body tight to his, setting his mouth against the still thumping pulse in my neck. I fell into a dreamless sleep seconds later.
Chapter 38
Matteo
My wife didn’t notice the look Armando gave me in the mirror as Placido navigated LA’s bumper-to-bumper traffic. She was too busy staring out the window, trying to take in a world that she’d only be spending a short amount of time in.
It wasn’t my decision to make for her, whether she wanted a part of this world, but I’d made a decision as soon as my eyes met that sleazy motherfucker: he wouldn’t be a part of herworld. That woman he’d brought along, the one who kept fluttering her lashes and licking her lips at me, was a fucking trap. She might have been with him, but he was into sharing.
The word “sharing” wasn’t even in my vocabulary, unless it came to sharing gelato with my wife while we walked the Seine.
And if he looked at my wife like he did the night before, he was going to find himself sleeping with the fishes.
I also had intel on his deal with Noemi. He’d fucked her over. She thought they had been in a relationship. Lies. Lies. Lies. All fucking lies. He’d led her on because of who she was, Gigi Dolce’s daughter, and she had connections to the Faustis.
He’d met one last night, and it was a meeting he’d never forget.
It was going to change his life.
Those wild ideas in his head, about fucking with my heart, was only going to leave him without one. I didn’t even need to hear the truth in his thoughts when he gazed at my wife from across the table. I could see it in his eyes.
The desire.
The money signs.
The possession.
My wife didn’t even seem to notice. She was too pissed about the trap across the table.
And I didn’t tolerate anyone hurting family, or who we considered family. I shared blood with Noemi through my grandmother, Grazia, who Graziana was named after.
Sitting up some, I fixed my suit, then turned my eyes to my wife.
Our eyes connected from across the back of the car, and her cheeks flushed. She was thinking about last night and what I’d done to her. I was always in control, but last night, her words ripped through my leash, and I was set free inside of her. Echoing the pleasure and pain she caused me. How she’d made me feel inside.
“Are the beaches here like the ones we went to in Sicily?” Her voice was quiet, and I could tell she had something deeper on her mind, but she was keeping our conversations on the surface. Almost like testing me to see if I’d talk to her.
“No,” I said. “They’re different.”
She nodded and looked away from me. “My mom told me once that an old Italian woman said people move to California so they don’t die.”
Armando and Placido both glanced at her through the mirror. I stared at her until she turned and faced me.
