But now that it was quiet—now that she was here and not looking at me like she was already halfway to regretting it—I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell I’d done, whatever tiny shot I ever had died here. Hell hath no fury like Nicola when she was mad, and there was no chance she would be happy about this.
I sat up slowly, scrubbing a hand over my face. My head ached, a dull reminder of champagne and whatever the hell we opened from the minibar after we got in. There was a faint lipstick stain on my chest. Her lipstick. Her mouth.
Jesus.
I glanced at her again.
We weren’t supposed to end up here.
Nicola and I? We flirted like it was a sport, fought like we were in the ring, and orbited each other like something was always just about to catch fire. But this? This was past the line.
And if she woke up and looked at me like it meantnothing?—
I didn’t know what I’d do with that.
I stood, slipping into a pair of boxers, and moved toward the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling window. I pulled the curtain back slightly. Morning traffic moved sluggishly below with people going about their normal lives.
Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out how the hell to breathe next to a woman who’d been under my skin since forever, since the day she walked into the paddock and in my bed for exactly one night.
Behind me, I heard her shift. A faint sound. Sheets rustling. Breath catching.
My pulse spiked.
She shifted again. This time, the sound was sharper—like she’d sat up quickly, tugging the sheets with her.
“Shit.” Her voice. Groggy, hoarse, still thick from sleep. And panic.
I turned slowly. She was sitting up in bed now, clutching the duvet to her chest like it was a lifeline. Her hair was a mess cascading down her like a midnight waterfall, mascara faintly smudged beneath one eye, as strikingly beautiful as ever.
Her eyes went wide when she met mine.
“What thehelldid we do?”
I blinked. “Good morning to you too.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Matteo.”
She said it like a curse. Her screaming my name came back to me and went straight to my cock. I was hard just thinking of it again. The images alone were already burned into my eyelids.
I crossed my arms, leaning against the window frame.
Play it casual. Be disarming.
I’d perfected that look. The lazy smile, the easy charm. She didn’t need to know I’d been staring at her like a lunatic for the last twenty minutes trying to figure out what the hell last nightmeant.
“You don’t remember?” I asked, cocking a brow.
“I rememberenough,” she snapped, voice tight. “I remember the gala. And the drinks. And—God—your hands.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking. That would not help right now, but the blush creeping up her cheeks was so damn cute.
“Right,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “This didn’t happen.”
The inevitable crush was there, but I didn’t let it show. I kept the same mask on as I always did.
“Pretty sure it did, Princess.” I gestured vaguely at the bed, atus.“Happened all over this room, in fact, and over that table.” I smirked. “Twice.”
“Don’t call me that.”
