Chapter 30
Daniella
Since Matteo picked me up from Peyton and Dominick’s home, he hasn’t once looked at me.
Not when he told me we needed to go home.
Not during the car ride back to our condo.
Not when we walked inside and he asked if I would be okay alone because he had shit to take care of, and then he disappeared down the hall.
I don’t know if he’s mad at me for getting taken or if he’s pissed that he didn’t get to fight. Or maybe it’s all just too much, having to protect me while dealing with whatever the hell is going on.
According to Peyton, someone is coming after their family, and they don’t know why.
When I told her and Bri what the person had said to Matteo over the phone—that they want Harbor Point—their eyes went wide. Bri cursed under her breath, and Peyton excused herself to check on her babies.
I don’t know what’s going on, but what I do know is that Matteo is my safe place, and the fact that he’s retreating is breaking my heart.
He’s done this before, I remind myself.
He pushed me away, wanting to protect me, and if I were to guess, that’s what he’s doing again. But I’m not going to let that happen.
I go in search of him and find him in the gym. It must be soundproof because from the outside, I couldn’t hear a thing, but inside, the sound of him laying into the punching bag reverberates throughout the otherwise quiet room.
His shoulders are tense, his neck muscles bunched. His arms repeatedly fly into the punching bag with so much force that I’m shocked he hasn’t put a hole in it or torn the anchor right out of the ceiling.
“Matteo,” I call out, not wanting to startle him.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror, but he doesn’t stop hitting the bag.
So, I step farther inside, coming around so he’s forced to look at me.
“Please,” I whisper, my eyes locking with his, “talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” he huffs, continuing to beat on the bag.
“I let you out of my sight, and you could’ve been fucking killed!
” He emphasizes the last word with a punch to the bag that sends it flying even further.
“I was supposed to protect you, and I failed! What the fuck was I thinking, telling you that I might want a baby? I can’t even protect you!
” He hits the bag again and again. “I’m a goddamn fuckup! ”
My thoughts go back to our conversations regarding his emotional dysregulation.
“I’m either fighting or fucking to keep my emotions in check. Not exactly husband or father material.”
He’s scared and angry and having trouble with his emotions, and because he’s afraid to hurt me, he’s resorted to taking it out on the bag.
“Matteo”—I step closer—“I’m right here.”
“Only because that psycho wanted to send a message. If she’d wanted to kill you, she could have, and it would’ve been my fault. This life—fuck!”
He goes crazy on the bag, not stopping until his entire body is wrapped around it. He’s breathing so hard that I’m worried he’ll pass out from exertion.
His knuckles are an angry red and bleeding, and I know if I don’t stop him from hitting the bag, he might go as far as breaking his hands.
So, I peel his hands and arms off the bag and thread our fingers together. His body is slick with sweat, but I don’t care. I pull him into my arms, wrapping him up in a hug, and he drops to the ground, taking me with him.
“I’m right here.” I brush his sweaty hair away from his eyes. “You don’t need to hurt yourself. I’m right here.”
I straddle his muscular thighs, and his fingers dig into my hips.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He nuzzles his face into my neck. “That’s why I came in here. I never want to fucking hurt you, Sweetness.”
“And you never will,” I tell him, framing his face in my hands and pulling his head back so our eyes meet. “You said you fight and fuck to control your emotions. Well, I’m here, so fuck me, Matteo.”
He stares at me for several seconds, and my stomach drops when I think he’s going to push me away. But then his mouth crashes against mine in a punishing kiss, and my lady parts clench in desire.
His fingers delve into my hair, fisting the strands as he deepens the kiss. Nipping, sucking, licking, biting. He feasts on my mouth before he tugs my head back and trails open-mouthed kisses along my jawline and up my neck, stopping at the shell of my ear.
“I can’t be gentle,” he murmurs. “I’m too worked up. Are you sure this is what you want, Little Russo?”
A shiver races down my spine at my nickname. He uses it when he wants to remind himself who I am, but I’m not going to let him push me away.
Yes, I’m Lorenzo’s sister.
I’m several years younger than Matteo.
He’s part of this scary world that I shouldn’t want to be a part of.
But I love Matteo, and until he forces me away, I’m going to be right here, by his side.
He must take my lack of response as reluctance because he starts to lift me off him, but before he can, I clamp my thighs around him, refusing to let go.
Maybe I should be more hesitant after what Enrique put me through, but Matteo isn’t him. He isn’t taking me against my will to hurt me. He’s asking my permission, and I’m going to willingly give myself over to him.
“Yes,” I tell him, pulling back to look into his dark blue eyes. “I trust you, Matteo. Do whatever you need to do.”
His lips capture mine once again, and our mouths curl around each other for what feels like minutes, maybe hours, as he pours every ounce of emotion into the kiss.
When he pulls back, his eyes are somehow even darker, like the deepest part of the ocean. They meet mine for a second before he tugs my shirt over my head and then reaches around and unclasps my bra, exposing my breasts to the cool air. My nipples harden in response, and he smirks down at them.
He takes one into his mouth, swirls his tongue around it gently, and bites down on it, causing me to gasp as the pleasure, mixed with pain, courses through my body.
He does the same thing to my other nipple, and I rub my center against him, craving the friction.
He lets go of my nipple and then lifts me into his arms and walks us over to the bench where he lifts weights. He lays me across it and then walks over to the end and peels the yoga pants, which Peyton lent me, and my panties down my legs, discarding them to the side.
“So fucking beautiful.” He spreads my legs so my pussy is completely exposed to him. “And already so wet.”
He drags the tip of his finger down my slit and then slaps the top of my pussy, making me jump. He does it again and again, until I’m a writhing mess, wondering if it’s possible to orgasm from this alone.
“I should bend you over and spank your ass.” He pushes two fingers roughly into me. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?”
His eyes meet mine, and goose bumps spread across my body as he confirms that he is in fact mad that I was taken. And not just at the person who took me, but at me for letting it happen.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I didn’t—”
He slaps the top of my pussy again, and I cry out.
“It’s my job to protect you,” he mutters, his gaze locked with mine, “and I failed.”
The rawness in his tone causes tears to prick my eyes, but I blink them away, knowing now is not the time. He needs me to be strong, to help him work through all the emotions he’s struggling with.
Before I can argue that he didn’t fail, he flips me over onto my hands and knees. I’ve barely steadied myself when a loud crack hits the air at the same time his palm lands on my left ass cheek.
“Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was?” he breathes out, his voice shaky. “Thinking I was never going to see you again.”
His hand connects with my right cheek, and I hiss at the painful pleasure his smack emits.
“I told you not to leave your guard, but you didn’t listen,” he chokes out.
And it hits me …
He’s not mad at me. He’s mad that he couldn’t protect me. He’s mad at the lack of control he has. He doesn’t know how to deal with the feelings he has for me. And I get it because I’ve never felt so strongly for anyone the way I feel for Matteo.
“Matteo, I’m sorry,” I cry out when he spanks my ass again.
“Sorry wouldn’t have stopped you from being killed,” he says, rubbing the area he just smacked. “It doesn’t stop the ache that I feel in my chest every time I think about you sitting in that metal fucking chair, tied up.”
Another smack and then another. The pain has now turned into pleasure, the area between my legs tingling, as if he has a direct line to my pussy, and with each smack on my ass, I get more and more turned on.
I wait for another swat to come, welcoming it, but instead, he reaches over and tugs on my hair, pulling my head back so I’m forced to look at him.
“I don’t know what to do with these feelings,” he croaks out, his nearly black eyes boring into mine. “I want to burn this fucking city down to find the person who took you. I want to send you away so you aren’t a part of this world anymore …”
He brings his face close to mine, tightening his hold on my hair, and I sniffle back my tears as realization hits—I was taken, and I could’ve been killed. Up until now, I was numb from what happened, but seeing the devastation in his eyes, hearing them in his words, I feel every raw emotion.
“But more than anything,” he says, “I want to hold you so fucking close and never let you go. I love you, Dani, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”
He leans over and captures my mouth in a drugging kiss that has my heart racing in my chest and my legs clenching in want.
And then his mouth is gone, and before I can beg him to come back and kiss me again, he’s pushing his shorts down.
He pulls his erection out as he warns me to hold on, and then he grips my hips and thrusts into me so hard and deep that I couldn’t tell you where he ends and I begin.
Unlike the other times when we’ve had sex, where he makes sure I get off, he brings me to the brink of my orgasm, only to take it away.
“Matteo, please,” I beg.