“Matteo!” She screams my name—plea, prayer, surrender.
Her thighs clamp around my head and I hold her there, steady, unwavering, working her through every trembling second of it. I don’t stop.
I want every drop of her ecstasy. Every pulse. Every shudder. Every sound she makes because of me.
She comes—louder, shaking, soaking my mouth—and I groan into her, licking her through every violent tremor until she’s trembling so hard she can barely breathe, too sensitive to take even one more stroke.
Only then do I slow, guiding her down from the high she crashes through. Her chest rises and falls in sharp, frantic bursts, her skin glistening from how hard I worked her.
My God.
She’s devastating.
I kiss her thighs. Her hips. Her stomach. Slow, reverent kisses that map the path back to her lips. By the time I reach her mouth, her eyes flutter open, breath catching against mine. We’re a hair apart. A single heartbeat from collision.
“Kiss me,” she whispers, voice wrecked. “I want to taste myself on your lips.”
I can’t deny her—not now, not ever.
I pressmy mouth to hers in a searing, consuming kiss that drags me into a different universe. She tastes herself on my tongue greedily, drawing me deeper, answering every press, every breath, every need.
We move like we’ve been doing this for years.
She moans into me, sliding her hands up my chest like she’s trying to memorize the shape of me—trying to find the place where she ends and I begin.
The kiss turns electric,hungry, addictive. I could drown in her.
But air becomes a necessity, and I pull back, resting my forehead against hers as we both pant.
“You okay?” I murmur.
She nods slowly. “Perfect… thank you.”
Her lashes lower,brushing her cheeks as she blinks up at me. Her eyes—warm, soft, toffee-colored—are nothing like the fear and pain she carried earlier. They’re alive now. Lit from within.
“I think you just ruined me,” she breathes. “It’s… it’s never been that good.”
And it never will be. Not with anyone else.
Now that I’ve tasted this woman, there’s no universe where I walk away.
I grin, voice dropping. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
I claim her mouth again, sealing a vow to myself in the heat of her kiss.
She will be mine. And I will fight whatever I must to make her mine completely.
14
BEATRICE
It’s been days since the restaurant, and Giacomo has vanished from my life as if he never existed. No calls. No messages. No sudden footsteps outside my door. The silence should worry me, but instead it settles around me like stolen air—unnerving, addictive, far too easy to sink into.
I’ve been running every morning just to quiet my mind, pounding through the streets until my lungs burn and my thoughts blur. But no matter how far I push my body, no matter how hard I try to outrun the chaos, one name keeps slipping through the cracks, refusing to let me forget.
Matteo.
I haven’t seen him either. Not because he isn’t around—I know he is—but because I have perfected the art of taking alternate hallways, waiting for empty elevators, lingering at my door until I’m certain his has stayed closed. It feels childish and impossible and yet absolutely necessary. Being near him knocks me off-center, and I can’t afford that right now.
