“I am all of those things.”
Even in profile, his frown looked painful. “You’re frightened of me?”
I didn’t answer him at first, because what could I say? Yes and no.
I was always contradicting myself when I was around him.
“Have I ever hurt you?”
It might have been my imagination, but I was sure I caught a wobble in his voice.
“Not physically.”
He slammed on the brakes, and I lurched forward. Matteo’s arm came out and halted my forward momentum just before I smashed into the dashboard.
“Jesus,” he breathed as car horns and angry shouts rose up around us. “Why don’t you have your seat belt on?”
Not giving me a chance to answer, he swerved the car over to the side of the road and stopped again.
“I want to know what you meant by not physically,” he asked, turning bodily toward me.
The sigh that escaped my lips was loud in the sudden quiet. “You ripped me from my home, Matteo, all because you wanted to prove some point to my brother.”
Several seconds passed before he answered. “That is true, but I wanted to prove a point to myself as well.”
“Was that point that you could break my heart again?”
“Again?” His dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. “When did I break your heart the first time?”
I gave him a pointed look.
The corner of his mouth curved downward. “I hurt you tonight, didn’t I?”
The question took me by surprise, not because he had asked it, but because I had presumed that was the whole point. He had made me eat sitting on his lap to humiliate me in front of our associates.
“I’m sorry.”
I blinked at him in surprise. In all the years I had known him, had I ever heard those words out of his mouth? Sure, sometimes he said them when we were growing up, but he had always used a sarcastic tone.
This time, it sounded like he meant them.
Matteo sounded sincere.
Reaching across the center console, he ran his fingers up and down my cheek. “I did want to hurt you,” he admitted. “I’ll admit that. Part of me still does.” His hands soothed my skin. “I want you to hurt. But at the same time,” the hand on my cheek slid under the thick curtain of my hair and pulled me toward him, “you’re Sophia. My Sophia.” His lips hovered over mine.
He was so temptingly close. His breath flowed over my face, and my eyes fluttered.
“You’re the one person in the world that I have always wanted to protect. The only person I have ever—” From an inch away, his eyes glued themselves to my lips, which had parted in a sigh.
“Fuck Sophia,” he groaned. “How can I hate you this much and still be completely head over heels in love with you?”
It was a question, but he didn’t give me a chance to reply before his lips traced over mine, like he was sipping the finest wine. He kissed me over and over again.
“I fucking hate you, Sophia.” The hand in my hair tightened. “But I—"
“Shut up.” Reaching for his head, I tangled my fingers into his hair, drawing his face down to mine again. “Kiss me, Matteo.”
Even New York City seemed to fall silent, like it was holding its breath and waiting for what he did next. Matteo wasn’t the kind of man who could be ordered.
