When he finally prepared me, he did it slowly. Carefully. Three fingers stretching me while he kissed my neck and murmured praise against my skin.
"So perfect," he said. "So responsive. So mine."
"Yours," I agreed breathlessly. "Always yours."
He pushed inside with aching slowness. Let me feel every inch. Seated himself fully and stayed still, just breathing against my neck.
"I love you," he said. "More than I thought I was capable of loving anyone."
"I love you too."
We moved together slowly. Finding a rhythm that felt less like sex and more like conversation. A physical dialogue of need and want and choice.
Matteo's hands were everywhere. Touching. Claiming. Memorizing. His mouth followed, leaving marks I'd see tomorrow and feel satisfied by.
"Look at me," he said softly. "Let me see you."
I opened my eyes. Met his dark gaze. Let him see everything—the pleasure, the emotion, the bone-deep certainty that this was right even when nothing else made sense.
"There you are," he murmured. "There's my Stefan. So beautiful when you let me see you."
His hand wrapped around me. Stroked in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation built slowly, pleasure layering on pleasure until I couldn't tell where one sensation ended and another began.
"I want you to remember this," Matteo said, his voice rough with emotion. "Remember how this feels. How we feel together. So the next time you doubt whether you're wanted, you can remember that I worship you like this."
"Matteo—I'm close—"
"I know. Let go. I've got you."
I shattered. Came apart in his arms with his name on my lips. Felt him follow moments later, driving deep and holding there.
Afterward, we lay tangled together. Both breathing hard. Both overwhelmed.
"I meant what I said," Matteo murmured against my hair. "You're welcome here as long as you want to stay."
"What if I want to stay forever?"
"Then I'll spend forever making sure you never regret it."
I pressed my face against his chest and let myself feel it. The safety. The belonging. The knowledge that I'd found something real in the most unlikely place.
This might be what home felt like.
Not the mansion I grew up in. Not the family I was born to. Not the life I was supposed to want.
This. Matteo's arms. The work that gave me purpose. The people who valued me for my mind. The choice to stay even when leaving was an option.
Home was choosing to be somewhere instead of being trapped there.
And I was choosing this.
The guards outside the door. The restrictions on my movement. The cage that came with FBI surveillance. The moral compromises of helping my family's enemies.
I was choosing all of it.
Because inside this cage was the first real freedom I'd ever known.
CHAPTER 14: MATTEO
