Chapter 30
Matteo
The storm’s gone by morning, but it’s left its claws inside me.
The room smells like her skin, salt; the sheets are damp from our sweat, heavy with warmth which hasn’t faded. A draft slips through the cracked window, cold air brushing my back, but I don’t move.
I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the cracked plaster ahead. The sky outside bleeds purple, the color of bruises fading too slow.
Behind me, she breathes.
Curled under the blanket, wearing one of my shirts that slipped off her shoulder. Her hair spreads across the pillow like a crown undone. The sight of her, bare skin, small movements, the soft sigh she lets out when she shifts, is beautiful.
She looks breakable. Too breakable for the world waiting outside this room.
Being close to her is almost enough to drown the nerves turning my stomach.
Because today, I face him.
My grandfather.
The man who built the Messina empire on loyalty and fear. Who taught us that love is weakness, and weakness gets buried.
And I’m about to tell him I’ve fallen for the enemy.
The thought makes my chest lock tight.
I turn toward her again. My little lamb.
Her breathing is steady, but mine isn’t. I want to freeze this moment to live here in the quiet where the world hasn’t found us yet. She deserves that quiet. A life untouched by bloodlines, without knives behind every vow.
What if I can’t keep her safe? What if I make her another casualty of the Messinas?
I drop my head into my hands. The weight in my chest crushes until each breath feels like glass tearing through my ribs.
I could walk away.
Let her marry the man they chose.
Let her forget this bed, my hands, my name.
But the thought of her in another man’s arms, his hands on her, his control makes my fists close until my knuckles ache.
Because no matter what the world says, she’s mine.
The sheets rustle behind me a small, sleepy sound, but it cuts clean through me. My shoulders tense before I even turn
I close my eyes. My pulse stutters.
She stirs, the faint scrape of her breath catches, and her lashes flutter open, still heavy with sleep. The light from the window cuts across her face, a pale band over her cheek, and for a second she looks unreal.
“Matteo.” My name drags from her throat, rough, soft, like it hurts to say.
I move before thought catches up. The mattress dips under my weight as I crawl back to her.
She reaches for me, blind and sure, fingers clutching my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. The contact steals my breath. Her warmth. Her scent.
I cup her jaw, my thumb tracing the edge of her face. Her skin is warm, damp from sleep. She trembles under my touch, or maybe it’s me shaking.
“You’re safe,” I whisper, my mouth brushing hers. “You’re mine.”
She pulls me down, her mouth finding mine with a kind of hunger that feels older than both of us. The kiss isn’t careful. It’s desperate. Raw. A surrender and a plea tangled together.
Her legs part instinctively, letting me settle between them, our bodies fitting together like we were carved from the same violent storm.
I grind against her, and she moans, a soft, broken sound that makes my cock twitch hard against the thin fabric of my boxers.
I need her.
I need her more than I need air.
I kiss her like a drowning man.
She arches up, her body pleading for more without a single word.
My hand slides down, slipping under the top she’s wearing. I drag it up over her hips, baring the sweet curve of her thighs. I remove her panties with my other hand, and fuck she smells so good.
"Jesus, little lamb," I growl, voice wrecked. "Are you trying to kill me?"
She just whimpers, a soft plea, and tilts her hips up, offering herself like a fucking prayer.
I slide two fingers down the seam of her folds, soaked, hot, ready, and her back arches off the bed.
I circle her clit once, twice, a wicked little flick, and her whole body shudders under me.
"Matteo, please," she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders. I smile against her mouth, cruel and tender all at once.
"Tell me what you want, little lamb."
"You," she moans, rocking against my hand. "I want you."
I kiss my way down her body, throat, collarbone, the soft swell of her breast.
I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking hard until she cries out, hips jerking.
I bite, just enough to make her whimper.
Then I soothe it with my tongue, leaving soft circles around the sensitive peak. My fingers are still working between her legs, slow, steady, until she’s gasping, begging, her thighs trembling on either side of me.
When I slip one finger inside her, she’s so tight and hot I nearly lose my fucking mind. I groan, forehead pressing against her sternum.
"Fuck, Aoife," I whisper. "You feel like heaven."
She grabs at me, hair, shoulders, anything she can reach, her nails scraping, her body frantic.
I add a second finger, stretching her gently, working her open with slow, deliberate thrusts. She writhes under me, her whole body clenching, desperate for more.
I trail kisses down her belly, lower, until I’m between her legs and then I taste her. Long, slow licks that have her sobbing, shaking, her hands buried in my hair.
I suck her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue until she’s arching, panting, begging with incoherent words.
I do this as I push my fingers deeper inside her.
“Matteo,” my name whispers from her lips, almost in a scream, but she knows not to. Neither one of us wants to get caught like this. “I’m there, I’m there.”
She comes, it’s like an earthquake, her thighs clamping around my head, her nails raking down my back, her cries filling the room.
I lap up every last tremor of her, every broken sound. Only when she’s shaking and gasping for air do I finally crawl back up her body.
I don’t give her time to recover.
I’m too far gone. Too fucking desperate.
I quickly remove my boxers, put on a condom, and line my dick up at her entrance, I enter her in one long, slow thrust.
Her eyes go wide, her mouth falling open in a silent cry.
"Matteo," she breathes, tears slipping down her cheeks.
I wipe them away with my thumb, kissing her so softly it breaks something inside me.
"I’ve got you," I whisper against her lips. "I’ll always have you."
And then I move. Slow at first, grinding deep, making sure she feels every fucking inch of me. She clings to me, her nails digging into my shoulders, her body rising to meet every thrust.
It’s desperate.
It’s everything.
I lose myself in her, the way she gasps, the way she moans my name like a prayer.
I fuck her like I’m starving. Like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I slam my lips into hers grabbing her thigh, lifting her leg up slightly as I continue to thrust deep inside her. When I feel her tighten around me, I slam harder, faster, chasing the high we can only find in each other.
She breaks first, a sob of my name tearing from her throat. Her pussy clamps down on me, pulsing, and it shoves me over the edge right after her.
I come hard with a broken growl, burying my face in her neck, my whole body shaking.
We stay like that, tangled together, heartbeats thundering, breaths ragged.
I kiss her jaw, her temple, every piece of her I can reach.
She’s still trembling underneath me, little aftershocks racing through her body like she's been struck by lightning and hasn’t quite come down yet.
I brush her hair back from her damp forehead, kissing her there, soft, reverent.
"Easy, little lamb," I murmur, my voice barely more than breath.
I roll us gently, pulling her on top of me, keeping her tucked against my chest. She buries her face there, pressing so close like she could crawl inside my skin and stay.
Her fingers trace lazy, broken shapes over my ribs. My heart stutters every time her touch drags over my scars, like she’s not afraid of them. Like she sees them and chooses me anyway.
I tighten my arms around her. Like the fucking world could steal her if I don’t hold on tight enough.
"You okay?" I ask, my lips brushing her hairline.
She nods against me but doesn’t speak, and I get it. Words are too small for this.
I kiss her temple. Her cheek. Her jaw. Soft kisses, sweet kisses.
"You scare the shit out of me," I whisper into her hair. "Every time you hurt, I feel it in my fucking bones."
She tilts her head, looking up at me. There are tears glistening in her lashes again, but this time, they’re not sad. They’re raw. Real.
"I’m sorry," she whispers.
I shake my head immediately, cupping her face in my palm. "No. You don’t ever apologize for surviving, Aoife."
Her breath hitches. Her bottom lip trembles.
"You saved me," she says, voice cracking.
She shifts closer, her body melting into mine. Her thigh drapes over my hip, her hand finding my heart and resting there, like she belongs there.
And fuck, she does.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together, nothing but the rain tapping against the window and our breathing filling the room.
"You’re not alone anymore," I whisper against her hair. "I’ll fight for you. Even if I have to fight the whole goddamn world."
She tilts her face up, and our mouths meet again, a slow, lingering kiss full of things neither of us have the words for yet.
It’s not just sex.
It’s not just desperation.
It’s us.
Something new and furious and tender all at once, something violent and soft that only she could carve out of me.
When we finally pull apart, she rests her head on my chest again.
Her voice is sleepy, almost dreaming.
“Are you going home this weekend?” I ask.
“Yes, I’ve been summoned, not sure why.” Her voice is low, but I can hear the annoyance in it.