“Say it again,”he murmurs. “Say my name.”
“Matteo,”I gasp, my voice unraveling completely. “Please, I need?—”
And then hefinally gives it to me.
The pace quickens,relentless, and I don’t want this feeling to end. I want—everything.
“Come for me,”he commands, his voice low, unyielding. “Now.”
The pleasure hitsfast and fierce, tearing through me in hot, blinding waves. I let go, letting it take me, letting my body answer without restraint. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop, keeps me right there until I’m shaking and spent, his fingers still teasing me through the aftershocks, his mouth following like he can’t get enough.
When the hazefinally lifts and my breathing steadies, Matteo rises and kisses me. He tastes different this time—slower, softer, charged with something deeper than heat alone.
Something I’m notready to name.
I cling to him,arms tight around his shoulders, suspended in the small, fragile world we’ve created.
When we finally pull apart,I feel light, unmoored.
Then he smoothsmy dress back into place, his fingers brushing deliberately over skin that still burns everywhere he has touched me.
“That wasn’t fair, by the way,” I huff, folding my arms across my chest.
Matteo lifts a brow. “What wasn’t?”
“I wanted you to…” I swallow, heat flooding my cheeks.
“Fuck you with my cock?” he finishes for me, voice low and shameless.
My blush deepens. “Yes.”
He chuckles, the sound warm and wicked. “If we’d done that, there would be no returning to the reception. And we can’t simply vanish, bella.”
We could. But with Marcello and Marta present from start to finish, disappearing would be disastrous.
“That was all about you,” he murmurs as he kisses the top of my head and smooths a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“What about you?” I glance down at the unmistakable strain in his trousers. “I could…”
I tug him closer by the waistband until our bodies align, my fingers slipping to his belt, intent clear. But his hands close gently over mine, halting me. I try again, playful and determined, and again he stops me.
“We have a wedding reception to attend, Beatrice.”
I groan and rest my forehead against the solid wall of his chest. “You make me feel like an insatiable bunny.”
His chest shakes with laughter—rare, deep, utterly disarming—and the sound blooms inside me like something I never want to live without.
“If I had my way,” he says softly, “you would be in our bed, naked and wrapped around me. But that is for later, amore. For now, we go back out there and act like dutiful guests.”
“Is that a promise?” I ask, tilting my head up with a teasing smile.
His answering smile is slow and sure. “Promise.”
We compose ourselves and walk hand in hand back into the ballroom. Eyes turn toward us, curious and whispering, but I barely register them anymore. Let them talk. They always do. Eventually they’ll find someone else to dissect.
He guides us deeper into the crowd—an attempt at hiding that lasts all of thirty seconds before Valerio finds us.
“You two could be a bit more discreet, you know?” Valerio drawls, holding two whiskey glasses and passing one to Matteo. He gestures toward my belly. “I’d offer you one as well, but… circumstances.”
