“Still mad?” I asked, voice wrecked.
She glared at me. “Yes.”
But she didn’t move away.
Neither did I.
10
NICOLA
Ididn’t know what the hell I was doing.
One second I was storming out of that hotel suite, trying to keep it together, trying to pretend like I wasn’t unraveling at the seams—and the next, Matteo was right behind me, dragging all his golden-boy sunshine and ridiculous charm into my storm.
When he called my name, I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. If I had turned around then, I would’ve shattered.
But then his hand wrapped around my arm—warm, solid, familiar—and I spun, ready to bite.
“What, Matteo?” I snapped, the words sharp and fast. Anything to keep my heart from spilling out.
And of course, he looked at me like I was a puzzle he could solve, like if he just pressed all the right buttons, I’d stop pretending I didn’t feel everything.
He stepped in too close, his body heat licking up my spine, and said, “And what if I did?”
The world narrowed. Just him. His breath, his scent of spiced citrus mixed with leather and whatever shampoo he stole from luxury hotels. My pulse crashed like waves inside my ribs.
Then I said it, the only defense I had left.
“Fuck off.”
He blinked, those stupidly pretty lashes fluttering over his stupidly warm eyes. “Fine.”
He started to pull back—and it should have felt like relief.
It didn’t.
So I grabbed his shirt—fisted it in one hand—and Idraggedhim to me since he walked off the track after the crash.
The moment our mouths collided, it was a goddamn supernova.
His lips were hot and demanding, teeth grazing mine as he kissed me like he’d wanted to for years. Like he was angry about it. Like he was starved.
And I matched him, kiss for kiss. I poured every bit of frustration and tension into it. He groaned against my mouth, deep and low and absolutely wrecked, and it did something dangerous to me.
His hands were everywhere. In my hair, gripping my waist, splaying across my spine like he needed to keep me tethered or he’d fly off the earth. He crowded me against the wall, his thigh sliding between mine, and Ifelthim—every hard, heated inch—and my hips rolled without permission.
I gasped into his mouth. He swallowed it like it was a drug.
His tongue swept into my mouth and I moaned—God, I moaned—and I should have been embarrassed but I was too far gone.
I kissed him harder.
We were breathless, devouring. Every graze of his lips, every pull of his fingers in my hair, every grind of our bodies. It was molten. Raw. Unforgiving.
He bit my bottom lip and I gasped again, arching into him.
His mouth found the underside of my jaw and the curve of my throat. I swore I forgot what year it was. My head fell backagainst the wall with a soft thud, eyes fluttering shut as he trailed kisses up to the shell of my ear.
