April's body was still humming, finding its way back to a resting state that felt further away than usual. The air on her skin registered cool where it shouldn't have been, warm where someone had just been.
Jiro caught Liam's eye across the room. Nodded once, apology and respect in one gesture.
Liam returned the nod, stepped back, still breathing hard, his eyes dark with satisfaction.
Mateo didn't move immediately. "No peanuts this time," he said to the room, not looking away from April. "Just us." The room stayed silent.
He stood there, watching April catch her breath, watching the flush spread across her skin, watching the way she looked at him, wanting, but also waiting.
"You chose this."
April blinked, refocusing on him.
"You chose me," Mateo continued, moving closer now. "You chose all of us. Do you remember what I told you in my kitchen?"
"To be greedy."
"Sì." His hand cupped her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "To take everything you want."
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. She caught his scent: olive oil and rosemary and warmth.
"And you have been, haven't you?" His voice was warm with approval. "Being greedy." His other hand found her waist. "So don't stop now,cara. Keep choosing. Keep taking."
She nodded and meant it.
"I want you lost in this," Mateo murmured. "I want you wanting. No permission, no plan. Just take." His hand slid down her side, “What your body wants."
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.
"Can you do that for me, cara? Can you let yourself have this?"
April nodded.
He squeezed her waist and then he turned her to face the back of the couch.
"Bend over, bellissima."
She did, hands braced on the cushions.
Her body was already primed—still wet from Liam, still aching, carrying the aftermath with her.
The fabric of her shirt slid up to her waist under Mateo's hands.
His palms spread over her hips, parted her. Warm and calloused, firm but careful, and she heard the low sound of approval he didn't bother to hide.
"So beautiful.” His hands slid up her spine. Thumbs pressing into muscle like he was testing what he intended to savor.
"You carry it here," he murmured, kneading once, twice. "All that wanting."
"Let it go, you don't have to ration yourself."
His palms drifted lower, slower now, warmth spreading under his touch.
"Still hungry?"
She nodded.
"Così," he groaned, approval roughening his voice.
