“Maybe in a couple of years,” I say wistfully. “I’m enjoying being home with you for now. Are you…do you like it here so far?”
“I’m in heaven, baby,” he assures me, leaning down to push his lips into my hair. “I’m so fucking glad I came here. Talking to you on the phone was always nice, but nothing compares to seeing you every day—to feeling you in my arms.”
Blushing, I try not to squirm. “What about feeling me on your lips?”
“Mmm, that just might be my favorite.”
He’s smiling as he moves a hand to my neck, leaning down to capture my lips with his. His touch is deeper than it ever has been, so much so that he catches me off guard enough to make me whimper.
Matteo grins against my mouth and swallows down the sound, humming as he tilts his head and kisses me some more. I feel like if he wasn’t holding me, I might stumble and fall. Myheart is fluttering with excited beats, and I like the feeling so much that I practically beg for more.
Our lips are close to dancing or fighting, pressing into one another and shifting to get the best pressure and the fullest touch. When Matteo pulls back, a protesting pout twists on my mouth.
“Let’s get ice cream,” he suggests, letting out a held breath. “Before we get too caught up and make Nico sick.”
“He can look away.”
Matteo laughs. “Okay, then let’s go get ice cream before you kiss me so good that I can’t walk around the beach without it being considered indecent.”
My eyes widen before looking down.
Chuckling louder, Matteo picks up my chin. “I stopped us before it happened, but it wasn’t far off.”
“Oh.” I swallow, suddenly feeling warmer.
He tucks some hair behind my ear. “Ice cream?”
“Yeah.” I nod, lips feeling fuzzy and swollen. “Ice cream.”
The shop is a short walk away, stationed just as the sand begins and the parking lot ends. Matteo insists I order first and pays after he orders his own. Vanilla and peach for me, soft chocolate and vanilla twist for him. He buys a water bottle too and starts to sip on it when I’m handed my waffle cone.
He watches me take my first lick and seems to get distracted enough to spill water on his face and little dribbles down his arm. He swears under his breath and lifts his shirt up to wipe his face.
I almost drop my ice cream, eyes falling to his chiseled stomach. His abs are tan and defined, and they seem to go on for days. His sweatpants hang low, exposing the white band of his boxers. Something flutters deep in my core, seeing him like this.
“You’re dripping.”
“W-what?” I flinch, snapping out of it.
“Your ice cream, baby,” Matteo clarifies, lifting my wrist so it’s no longer tilted. “Your cone is dripping.”
“Shoot,” I mumble, leaning forward to lick up the mess just as Matteo’s order comes out.
“You’re so fucking cute,” he tells me, taking a lick of his twist. “I should lift my shirt up more often.”
Yes, you should.
Swallowing, I try to change the subject before I can embarrass myself. “Do you think if I bring Nico an ice cream, he’ll eat it?”
“Maybe.” Matteo hums, considering it. “I think if he says no and I offer to eat it, he’ll change his answer so that I can’t have it.”
I giggle, smirking up at him. “Perfect.”
Turning to the employee behind the stand, I say, “One more, please.”
Nico doesn’t actually protest the ice cream when I hand it to him, but he doesn’t eat any of it until Matteo and I turn away.
This time, when Matteo kisses me by the water, he tastes sweeter.
