Fuck, if that isn’t a loaded question.
17
Daniella
Learningself-defense sounded like a great idea until I got down to Matteo’s state-of-the-art gym and realized it also meant being tangled up with Matteo—literally.
Take right now, for instance. He’s standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me, his hard front pressed against my back. His knee is wedged between my thighs, and I’m supposed to push against him and duck out of his hold so I can run. Yet the last thing I want to do is run from this man …
“You ready?” he asks, his tone slightly breathless, which has me wondering if he’s as turned on as I am—though judging from the way his hard bulge is pushing against the crack of my ass, I would say he is.
“Uh-huh,” I squeak out.
He tightens his hold on me, his face nuzzling into the crook of my neck, and I’m momentarily frozen as I inhale his masculine scent—the same scent I’ve had the pleasure of surrounding myself with every time I shower—but then he tightens his arm, slowly cutting off my air supply, and I snap out of it as flashbacks of Enrique choking me appear, forcing my fight-or-flight instincts to kick in.
I push my butt against him and then do as he taught me, using our height difference to my advantage—push his arm out, duck down low, and then run.
When I make it to the door, he yells, “Hell yeah, Dani! Good job.”
I turn around and grin, proud of myself. “Thanks.”
I glance at Matteo and notice that while I’m dripping wet and out of breath from working on the moves for the past hour, he’s barely broken a sweat.
“What the hell do you do to keep in shape?” I ask in exasperation. “I’m covered in sweat, and you’re, like … perfect.”
He barks out a laugh. “I work out for hours every day, and I eat clean.”
“Well, I want to do that too.” I cross my arms over my chest and huff.
He chuckles and steps toward me. “Why?”
“What?”
“You’re perfect the way you are,” he says, causing butterflies to attack my chest. “So, if your sudden desire to work out is because you think you need to lose weight, you don’t need to. But if you want to work out and eat healthy to better yourself, I can help you do that.”
I think about why I want to work out, and while I would love to tone up my softness a bit, that’s not the only reason. “I want to feel good about myself,” I tell him truthfully. “Being in college meant a lot of ordering in and eating shitty. I jog every day, but I want to do more than that. I shouldn’t feel like shit after working on some self-defense moves for an hour.”
Matteo nods in understanding. “Then, I’ll help you,” he says just as his phone goes off.
He picks it up and says, “It’s your brother.”
He points the phone at me, and then I hear a click when the camera takes a picture.
“Matteo!” I yell, running toward him. “Do not send that to my brother!”
He laughs and raises his arm so I can’t reach the phone. “Chill out. He wanted to know you’re okay, and I was just sending him proof.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, giving up on trying to steal his phone.
“He wants to know why you’re all sweaty,” he says with a laugh.
“Tell him it was all the sex we had in the gym.”
I smirk, and Matteo glares.
“Not funny, Little Russo. You want your brother to try to kill me?”
“You’re so dramatic.” I roll my eyes. “Give him my number, please.”
