“Can I wash you?” I whispered.
I’d never seen a naked man before. And I’d never cared to. But this one? This one I wanted to see bared to me, just like I was vulnerable to him.
“You can do anything you want to me,” he rasped out.
“I doubt that.” I reached out to smooth the shirt from his shoulders, but the sudden lock he had on my wrists stopped me.
“You could kill me, and I wouldn’t fight you,” he said. “If you’re going to break my heart that way, might as well steal it first. Make sure it’s still beating in my chest. It would hurt less than you hurting me.”
I shook my head and tested his pressure on my wrists. He lightened it enough to free me. I moved toward his pants and unbuttoned them. He took a step back, got the wet shirt to the floor, and then kicked off his shoes and removed his pants. He was in nothing but boxers, and they were tented in the front.
Okay, he was beyond whatever word meant more than beautiful. He was fit, with muscles in all the right places. And his face? His face was like a magnet to the eyes. I couldn’t stop staring. I got the feeling he felt he couldn’t surviveme, but I had no idea how I was going to survivehim. Those eyes alone could melt the hardest of hearts. He was all sharp lines and animpeccable jaw structure, the softest thing about him probably his lips.
The rest was hard and warm and so perfect without being pretentious.
I’d made a pact a few nights ago, though, to experience Matteo Fausti like I’d experience the ride of life—by strapping in and fully committing. I had a lot of heavy weights in my heart, but he seemed to free me from them, like he’d freed my wrists.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered. “I want to make your life as good as you’re making mine.”
“So fucking honest,” he rushed out. He stepped forward, took the back of my head, and pressed my lips against his before he started kissing me in a way he hadn’t before. His tongue reached out and touched mine, and I gasped into his mouth at how good it felt. It sent tingles all over my body, and my nipples started to ache along with a spot between my legs.
The pleasure was such a rush that my hands instinctively reached out for his wide shoulders, and my nails dug into his skin. He seemed to like this. The kiss became…more. It was tender, the way our mouths and tongues came together, but there was an intensity to the…hunger that I knew meant more was on the way. It felt like the power of his eyes came together and caused a beautiful storm between our bodies.
Before I’d realized it, my hands had found the hem of his boxers, and I lowered them, freeing him.
Okay. Okay. Okay.
Was it supposed to be that big?
I had no fucking clue, but it was beautiful. Long, thick, hard, ready for me to wrap my hand around. When I did, he hissed out a breath and stepped into the shower with me. He closed the curtain, and it seemed like our bodies came together like a magnet and whatever it was drawn to. Our hands were exploring, learning, soaking each other in. His hand slidbetween my thighs, and something wild and powerful took over my body. An instinct too powerful for me to fight. I gave in to it. I cried out and shook.
All he’d done was rub his hand between my thighs.
My eyes were closed so tight, even with the water, I had a hard time peeling them open. His eyes were still on me, and instead of grinning or something, the look on his face almost seemed dangerous. Like he was addicted and needed another hit. We were both breathing heavy, and my hands ached to reach out and touch him. I did, and he touched me, and before I knew it, he was down on his knees, the water flowing over his back, parting my legs. I cried out and stuck my nails into his back when his tongue started to lick me.
I didn’t come back to myself until after my body did the same thing it had before. Gave in. A garbled sound came from my mouth. It sounded like a wild animal crying out. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, or what he was doing, but I didn’t care. It felt so good, I wanted to keep doing it.
Doing it.
Doing it.
Anddoingit.
We only stopped when the water turned cold. He helped me out of the shower and dried me off, dressing me after. The moon was out and lit the inside of the room. I was so tired, but the odd thing was—I felt so weightless. I felt wild and free, like riding a surging wave.
I was blinking at him, while he stared at me, and when I started to touch my hardened nipple, he grabbed my wrist. “No toys and no boys—only a man. Me. I’m the only one to give you pleasure when you need it.”
Fine with me.
Nodding, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and fell asleep.
I slept so soundly, my entire body felt stiff when my eyes flew open. I had to pee so badly that my bladder felt like it was cramping. I wasn’t even sure if I could make it to the bathroom. I went to sit up, but an iron bar was locked around my waist.
The iron bar belonged to Matteo Fausti, and it was also known as his arm. He’d fallen asleep next to me in the bed. I ran my hand over his left hand. He had a tattoo there. The dark ink created a rosary with a lion in its open center, a sacred heart in its mane. It must have been the symbol of his family. And I wondered if him getting the tattoo on that hand symbolized something more—maybe he was married to the idea of being a part of…whatever one wanted to call his family.
One of his eyes opened, and his eyebrow lifted.
“Bathroom,” I croaked out. “Bad.”
