She stepped inside without waiting for permission, brushing past me, and dropped the coat.
I nearly dropped to my knees.
“Thought you said last time was the last time,” I managed, voice rough.
She turned, that defiant tilt to her chin softening just a little. “Well,” she said, walking toward me with slow, sinful steps, “What’sone more?”
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.
“In the morning,” she added, right in front of me now, “It never happened.”
That wrecked me.
Because I wanted it to count. I wantedherto count.
But I also wanted her so fucking badly it made my teeth ache.
So I nodded once. Shoved it all down—every stupid feeling, every flash of hope—and buried it under the heat rising between us again.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I whispered, gripping her hips.
She leaned up, brushing her lips over mine, featherlight. “Then play with me, DeLuca.”
The morning sun felt like judgment.
Nicola was already halfway dressed when I woke up. Her back was to me, one hand braced against the dresser like she needed it to breathe.
I didn’t say anything,just watched her. I knew the exact moment she put the walls back up. I could feel it—like the air in the room changed temperature. She didn’t look at me when she said it.
“This can’t happen again.”
Four words. Soft but lethal.
I sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around my waist. “Right,” I said, forcing my voice to sound casual, light. Like I hadn’t just memorized the sound of her moans or kissed her like I’d die without her.
“I didn’t mean to sleep over. This isn’t anything, just sex, but that was the last time.”
My jaw clenched. “Funny, you didn’t seem too regretful when you were coming on my?—”
“Don’t,” her voice cracked like a whip.
She turned then, and yeah, her face was composed—but her eyes weren’t. They flickered like candlelight about to go out.
“I mean it, Matteo.”
I nodded. What else could I do? Beg?
“Cool. All good,” I said, throwing on a smirk like it was armor as she gathered her things. Nicola harshly pulled on her shirt that laid across a chair and her coat. A shirt that happened to be mine, making my smirk grow. “See you on the plane.”
“Yeah.” She hesitated for half a breath too long. “See you.”
And then she left.
And I sat there like an idiot in a bed that still smelled like her, smiling to myself because she stole my shirt.
The ride to the airport was a blur. Lucia talked, Gianna played with her toys, someone spilled coffee, and the sky looked like it might rain. I smiled and joked like I always did. Laughed at my own dumb stories, kept the mood up.
Because if I didn’t, I might’ve broken.
