Chapter 12 #2
"Relax," he said quietly. "You're wound up like you're headed for a tax audit."
"Keep moving your hand, and you'll be headed for orthopedic surgery."
He laughed and moved his hand back slightly.
"You look beautiful tonight, Rachel. That dress suits you. The wine color makes your skin look like—"
"If you say dessert, I'm walking away right now."
He shut his mouth. But the next second, he leaned close to my ear.
"He shouldn't have left you sitting alone over there."
"That's none of your business."
"Maybe not. But I saw you hurting."
I followed the beat, turning away from his breath.
"You saw wrong."
"I used to be your boss. When you lie, your left eyebrow twitches."
"How thoughtful." I looked up at him. "If you'd used that skill at work, maybe the company would've lost a few million less."
Charles laughed low. But before the sound faded, my wrist was suddenly caught by another hand—a grip familiar enough that I didn't need to turn around. Several pairs of eyes immediately swiveled toward us.
Matteo stood before us. No smile on his face, his eyes like a contained storm.
"Rachel." His voice was cold. "There's a contract the assistants need. It's due first thing tomorrow. Come with me now to review it."
Charles didn't release me immediately. "Now?" He raised an eyebrow. "Matteo, it's a reception. You can't make employees ask permission to dance."
Matteo looked at him. Charles's smile dimmed.
"The contract," Matteo repeated. "Now."
Before I could open my mouth, he pulled me straight out of Charles's arms.
"Matteo." I lowered my voice. "Let go of me."
He ignored me. Charles looked like he wanted to say something, took half a step, then Matteo glanced back at him.
Charles stopped. Matteo pulled me by the wrist through the entire hall.
The surrounding laughter, clinking glasses, band music—all seemed to fade away.
People looked. People whispered. I couldn't hear clearly. Didn't want to.
His stride was fast. My skirt billowed in the breeze, the slit exposing my leg to the cold air.
I nearly tripped on the hem several times, but he seemed to have eyes in the back of his head—each time catching my elbow just right, steadying me.
It made me angrier. How dare he break my heart and still be this goddamn considerate?
We reached the second floor. He pushed open a glass door leading to a terrace, brought me outside, and shut the door behind us. The music was muffled behind the glass, just a low, blurred melody. Night wind hit me full in the face. My bare shoulders instantly broke out in goosebumps.
"Are you insane?" I yanked my hand free. "This is a company event!"
"Rachel, my patience with you has limits." Matteo's expression was stormy. "This is the second time."
"So what?" I met his eyes. "You let Samantha hang on your arm all night! If you can accept Samantha, then I can accept Charles! Who the hell are you to me? What gives you the right?"
The words barely left my mouth before Matteo laughed. "You're jealous?"
"I'm not—mmph—"
He kissed me.
"Matteo—"
My voice shattered against his mouth. Behind the glass door, the band still played. The waltz floated elegant as a pretty lie. But out on the terrace there was only cold wind, ragged breathing, and my heartbeat rioting in my chest.
Furious and humiliated, I grabbed his lapels and bit down on his lower lip. Maybe too hard—the taste of blood bloomed between us almost instantly.
"You bit me?"
"You asked for it."
He laughed low. "Sweetheart, you'd better know who you're provoking."
The next second, he pressed me back against the cold marble balustrade. My lower back hit the railing, the chill sinking through the thin fabric straight into my skin. He dipped his head and kissed my collarbone. His lips against my skin—scorching. His kisses trailed down from my shoulder.
I shoved at his chest, palms flat against the solid wall of muscle beneath his shirt, but he didn't budge.
Instead, his hands seized my wrists in a bruising grip and slammed them down onto the marble balustrade on either side of me.
The cold stone bit into my skin, pinning me in place while his body crowded closer, trapping me against the railing.
"You think you can push me away?" he growled against my mouth, his voice low and rough.
Before I could snap back, he dipped his head and sank his teeth into the curve of my collarbone.
Sharp pain flared through me, his bite deep enough to leave marks, and I gasped sharply, the sound torn from my throat.
My body arched instinctively, but there was nowhere to go.
Fury and something hotter twisted inside me.
I wrenched one hand free just enough to grab a fistful of his hair and yanked hard.
Matteo grunted, the sound muffled against my skin, but he released my wrists—only to move faster.
His fingers bunched the delicate fabric of my evening gown, yanking the skirt up around my hips in one rough motion.
Cool night air rushed over my thighs as he hooked his fingers into the edge of my lace panties and tore them aside, exposing me completely.
I reacted without thinking, shoving both hands toward his face, trying to push him back. "Matteo—"
He snarled, a deep, primal sound, and captured my wrists again.
This time, he forced them high above my head, locking them in one large hand against the balustrade.
The position stretched me taut, my breasts pushing against the low neckline of my dress.
I kicked out with one leg, my heel connecting with his thigh, but he used the momentum against me.
In a fluid, relentless move, he caught my knee and hiked it up around his waist, opening me wider.
His free hand worked between us, the metallic rasp of his zipper loud in the quiet terrace air.
Then he was there—hot, hard, and thick—pressing against my slick entrance. With one powerful thrust, he drove into me, burying himself to the hilt.
My body went rigid, a broken cry spilling from my lips as he stretched me so suddenly, so completely. Pleasure and pain blurred together, the fullness overwhelming. My other leg betrayed me, hooking instinctively around his back, pulling him deeper even as my mind reeled.