Having Matteo beside me helps. The solid warmth of him. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. His heartbeat in my ear, slow and sure.
I finally drift off.
But sleep doesn’t stay peaceful for long.
The nightmare comes in fragments. Gunshots. Blood spreading across linoleum. Viktor’s face twisted with rage. My own screams echoing off walls that keep getting closer. I’m runningbut my legs won’t work right, and he’s gaining, and the gun is rising, and?—
I wake gasping, kicking off the blankets like they’re hands trying to hold me down.
But Matteo is there.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me against the solid wall of his chest. His lips brush my forehead. My temple. The curve of my jaw.
“It’s okay.” His voice is rough velvet in the darkness. “You’re okay, Sunshine.”
“Matteo.” His name breaks on my tongue.
I wrap my arms around him, my legs tangling with his. Clinging. Holding on like he’s the only solid thing left in a world that keeps trying to shake me loose.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’ll keep you safe.”
I know he will. I believe it in a way I haven’t believed anything in months. Maybe I can’t fully trust him with my heart yet. Viktor damaged that part of me too badly. But this? The keeping me safe part? Matteo’s proven it. Over and over.
As my breathing steadies, other sensations filter through the fading fear. The heat of his body against mine. The way his hands spread across my back, steady and sure. The hard ridge of his arousal pressing against my stomach.
My face is buried in his neck, and I breathe him in. Cedar and soap and something distinctly him. My pulse shifts from panic to something else entirely. Something warm unfurling low in my belly.
I tilt my head back.
He meets me halfway.
The kiss is soft at first. Tentative. Like he’s giving me space to pull away if I need to. But I don’t need to. I need the opposite. I need closer. More. Him.
When I part my lips, something ignites between us. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the angle. I pour myself into the kiss, chasing the heat, letting it burn away the lingering shadows of my nightmare.
My fingers trail down his pecs, over the ridges of his abs, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers.
Matteo stiffens. Breaks the kiss.
“We shouldn’t.” His voice is strained, his breathing ragged. “You’ve been through a lot. You might not be thinking clearly.”
I cup his face in both hands, keeping him close. I can’t see him in the darkness, but I can feel his breath mingling with mine. The tension coiled in every muscle. The way his body contradicts his words, pressing toward me even as he tries to pull back.
“I’m thinking perfectly clearly.” I brush my lips against his jaw. His throat. “Please, Matteo. I need this.” I pull back just enough to find his eyes in the darkness. “I need you. Not to forget. To remember.”
“Remember what?”
“That I’m still here. That I’m alive. That he didn’t win.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.
Then his mouth crashes into mine, and the world narrows to nothing but sensation.
20
MATTEO
Sierra isfire in my arms. Needy. Responsive. When I slip my hand under her shirt and cup her breast, she arches into me like she’s been waiting her whole life for this exact touch.
