I hated the way he looked at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking. The way he smirked when I got flustered. The way his voice dipped when he used my name like it was a sin.
And right now, I hated the way I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth.
“You done glaring at me like you want to kill me,” Matteo asked, stepping in closer, “or are you still convincing yourself you don’t want to fuck me?”
My laugh came out sharp, mocking. “You think you’re irresistible, don’t you?”
He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting like he already knew the answer. “Not irresistible. Just inevitable.”
His hold on my hands loosened, giving me the option to leave, to end it here. I should’ve backed up, put space, told him this was a bad idea and we shouldn’t do this again. But Ididwant to do this again. Again and again. I ignored that small part of me, the voice in the back of my head screaming at me, knowing I would get hurt just like every time before.
Instead, I shoved him.
He didn’t budge. His chest was firm beneath my hands, hot. I could feel his breath on my cheek, ragged like mine.
“You drive me insane,” I hissed.
“Likewise,” he muttered—and then he kissed me.
Hard.
His mouth was on mine before I could take another breath, and it was everything I didn’t know I’d been craving. Rough. Desperate. A collision more than a kiss. My fingers clawed at his shoulders as his hands slid under my breast, a teasing sweep. His palms felt like fire with every brush against my skin.
I gasped into his mouth and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that sent sparks down my spine.
“Fuck,” he growled against my lips. “You like this.” Another kiss. “And you’re all mine.”
I bit down on his lower lip in answer, hard enough to make him groan, and pulled him with me as I stumbled backward, toward the bed, the wall—I didn’t care where, just somewhere I could feel all of him. I felt drunk on his words. Parts of my brain were firing off warnings at him using the term ‘mine,’ but somehow it was also the hottest thing I had ever heard. It seemed like something to analyze later, so I kept getting lost in his kisses, letting myself get drunk on them.
We crashed into the wall.
He pressed me against it, his thigh between mine, his hands mapping every inch of skin he could find. I was burning, unraveling, desperate and wild and?—
“You’re such an asshole,” I whispered as he trailed kisses down my neck.
“You say that,” he murmured, mouth brushing the swell of my breast, “but you’re not telling me to stop.”
I wasn’t. I couldn’t. My hands were already under his shirt, nails dragging down his spine, and the sound he made—low, guttural, wrecked—was addictive.
“Shut up and get on the bed,” I snapped.
His eyes flashed, dark with something dangerous. “Bossy.”
“You love it.”
He didn’t respond. Just lifted me, carried me like I weighed nothing, and tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me, settling between my thighs like he belonged there.
Maybe he did.
Maybe I hated how right this felt.
Maybe I didn’t care anymore.
“Last chance,” he murmured, his forehead pressed to mine, voice raw. “Tell me to stop.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him down, lips brushing his. “Don’t you fucking dare.” I watched him let go at that moment. His eyes darkened, lust clouding my own vision the same.
I didn’t recognize the man above me.
