Chapter 15
fifteen
The coast is clear—our bathroom door is closed, Nic’s nighttime routine music drifting from beneath it—so I motion Matteo to follow me to my room.
I shut the door behind us as fast as I can, tossing my bag to the side and toeing off my slides.
He does the same, clicking the lock into place on the door handle.
I giggle before slapping a hand over my mouth. “Good call,” I whisper, flicking the switch that turns on my bedside table lamp, illuminating him in a soft warm glow. He’s giving me that look again, like I’ve amused him so thoroughly that it’s become endearing. “What?”
He steps forward, hand slipping into my hair and bringing my lips back to his, as if he can’t wait a moment longer. It’s hurried, frenzied, rough kisses and bites until we pull away for air, and then more, sinking onto my light-blue-and-lavender floral bedspread.
We slow down, exploring the contours of each other’s body.
One of his hands cradles my head, the other gently strokes the line of my hip and waist. My fingertips drift over taut back muscles, slipping beneath his shirt to touch his strong abdomen and chest. Matteo groans at the contact, ripping his shirt off.
The scent of bergamot that hits me is heady, but it’s the kisses he places down my neck, chest, and stomach, the reverence in his eyes as he removes my shirt painstakingly, that shoot a thrill from my scalp to my toes.
He shifts a warm, calloused palm beneath the waistband of my shorts.
I gasp and am rewarded with a sensual smile.
A slow tug of my shorts from my body as he drinks in every detail, groaning something in Italian when he sees the cotton thong with a tiny bow in the front I’ve had for years.
He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m wearing a T-shirt bra, kissing slowly down my body like I’m the single most attractive woman he’s ever laid eyes on.
I slip my fingers into his hair, dragging him toward me, wanting his lips back on mine. His grip on my wrist stops me. “It’s only fair you give me a moment to take you in since you’ve already seen me like this.”
Heat slips into my cheeks. So he did, in fact, see the video that was playing on a loop on my phone that one time in the player’s gym. His grin when he sees my face is further confirmation, and I drop my hand in embarrassment, letting him have a moment.
When Matteo reaches below my stomach, his fingers circling along my inner thigh tantalizingly, he rumbles, “No need to be shy. I’ve been thinking about this for so long, tesoro. Months. You’ve been in my head more than you could ever imagine.”
“Mon—” I’m cut off when his finger travels higher, nearing where I know he’ll find me slick, my breath catching. Warmth sinks low, then slingshots throughout my body. “Months? We’ve been training together for a few weeks.”
Matteo’s eyes flick to mine, shuttering for a second.
He chuckles, and I feel as though I’m on the outside of an inside joke.
“Right,” he murmurs. The fingers of his hand not touching my thigh trace up my body.
“I love watching your blush spread from here”—he taps just below my collarbone—“up to your cheeks. It’s one of my many favorite things about you.
” And then, with nearly no pause, he asks, “Can I touch you?”
I’m speechless, but manage a nod. He moves leisurely, taking his time kissing down my stomach until he gets where I need him, warm breath sending goose bumps skittering across my arms.
Slipping a finger inside the cotton, he asks, “Are you sure you can be quiet?” When I give another wordless nod, he shoots me the most charming smile I’ve ever seen.
“I guess we’ll see.” My fixation on his grin is only broken when he slides a finger inside me slowly, his groan practically guttural.
His thumb traces gentle circles on my clit, and when I gasp, he pulls himself up the bed to kiss me quiet. “Liar,” he whispers against my lips.
My breath speeds up as he adds pressure to my center.
“Do you want another?” he asks.
“Please yes.”
“So polite,” he muses. Matteo adds another finger, and when it starts to feel a bit too much, he kisses me again, somewhere between frantic and feverish, his fingers picking up speed. Blood rushes in my ears, my heels digging into my mattress and my body writhing beneath him.
“Matteo,” I whisper, closing my eyes and feeling the first rush of waves hit.
“Where you going?” he teases me quietly when I continue moving with his hand, chasing the sensation, begging for the wave to crash.
“Matteo,” I moan again, louder, anguished. Needy.
His beard scrapes my cheek gently as his lips caress the shell of my ear. “Come for me tesorino.”
So I do. His fingers hook gently inside me, and heat builds up my spine. His lips pressed to mine barely stifle the cry I let out as I clench around him, my head hazy.
When I can finally see again, I blink at Matteo hovering above me, his expression proud like I’m the one deserving of praise and not the other way around.
“I guess I can’t be quiet,” I murmur, eyes traveling to his sweatpants, where I can see him straining.
I push the waistband down, taking his boxer briefs with them, smiling when he lets out another guttural groan.
Spitting in my hand, I stroke up and down, enjoying the little noises he tries to stifle.
His body moves in tandem with my hand, urging me forward until he’s almost unhinged, his head dropped beside my ear, whimpering like he’s at my mercy.
After a particularly loud groan, I shush him, and he snaps to attention.
“Can I fuck you? Per favore, please let me,” he begs.
“Do you have a condom?”
Matteo moves so fast, he practically trips over himself, pulling one from his wallet. “Is that a yes?” he asks gruffly.
I nod, pulling my thong off and biting my lip to hide my smile. He’s so eager and earnest, it makes my stomach flip.
Matteo rips open the wrapper and rolls it on, pulling off his sweatpants and boxers and crawling up the bed until he’s positioned over me, his cock notched against me.
He kisses me deeply, his hand pressing against my stomach, pushing me into the mattress, while his thumb circles my center once more.
Slowly, carefully, he slides into me, keeping his hand’s rhythm the same. My body stretches to fit him, and I watch his eyes shut tightly, his breaths coming out in quick pants. He moves in and out a couple of times, still slow, still exploring until I can’t take it.
I slip my fingers into his hair urgently. “I want more,” I whisper against his lips. “I can take more.”
Matteo’s eyes fly open. He drags me to the edge of the bed, pulling my legs against his chest and using the hand against my stomach to keep me pinned down, hips drilling into mine as they pick up the pace. His other thumb slips into my mouth, my whimpers and moans quieter as I suck on it.
He’s speaking Italian, the words melodic and beautiful, though I can’t be positive what they all mean.
“Sei bellissima. Perfetta. Ho bisogno di te.” When he realizes I’m not understanding, he switches to English.
“You’re so beautiful.” Thrust. “Perfect.” Thrust. “I need you.” Thrust. “Could. Do. This. Every. Day.” He punctuates each word with a thrust. I cry out when I feel another wave cresting, and he shakes his head, a small smile on his face.
The bathroom door opens in the foyer, and Nic calls out to me. My eyes widen, but Matteo doesn’t stop. He simply pulls his thumb out of my mouth and nods. “Answer her,” he commands me, and that alone nearly does it for me for a second time.
“I’m—” I close my eyes, trying to keep it together. “I’m here. All good. See you tomorrow.” Every other word wavers, but it’s the best I can do.
“Have you eaten?” she calls from outside my door. Matteo’s smile tips into something devilish, like he knows exactly how hard he’s making this for me.
His thumb continues working my clit, the rhythm of him pushing inside me barely slowing, just enough to stay quiet.
“I’m good, yeah. All good,” I choke out, not remembering what she said. I hear her grumble something and walk away.
Matteo’s expression is half wild, his thumb slipping back into my mouth. “Brava, pretty girl. Now come for me again so I can feel you tightening around my cock this time.”
Like my body is made to listen to his commands, I do. His hand covers my mouth when I cry out, and a moment later, when his thrusts become erratic, he presses his lips to mine, hard, groaning into my mouth.
When he finally comes down, he pulls out, lying beside me on the bed and kissing my shoulder while our breathing slows.
After we’ve had a moment to recuperate, he asks, “Do you have any towels in here?” He stands on shaky legs, pulling off the condom and tucking it and the wrapper into a tissue from my dresser.
Grabbing our clothes, he stares at me expectantly.
“Sorry, no.”
“Then we’re going to have to go to the bathroom to get you cleaned up. That okay?” He pulls his boxers and sweatpants on, then throws his large T-shirt over me. I’m enveloped in his smell.
“Oh,” I answer, my brain functioning at about a tenth of the speed it usually does, still reveling in what just happened.
“Del? Bathroom?”
“Oh, yes!” I stand, taking his hand, and his shirt falls halfway to my knees. Unlocking my door, I stick my head out. No sign of Nic. I turn back, drinking in his solid chest and abs before leading him out.
We tiptoe, but right as we’re about to pass the kitchen entrance, Nic steps out. She blinks a few times, eyes flitting between Matteo and me. After a few seconds, she turns toward her room.
“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” she mumbles, and I snort, pulling Matteo into the bathroom.
Less than half an hour later, we’re ordering at a drive-through taco place I’ve been wanting to try. A chipper voice tells us to pull forward, and I grab my card from my wallet. Matteo’s gaze finds me, and he frowns. “What are you doing?”