Chapter 27
ELIZABETH
I texted Matteo to let him know that I was going home to pack my overnight bag. I asked him to text me his address, because I planned to get a taxi to his place.
A few hours later, I’m outside a modern glass building that looks more like an art gallery than an apartment block, and I'm suddenly very aware of how ordinary I am.
As Matteo opens the door to me, the breath in my lungs empties. His apartment is equal parts luxury penthouse and bachelor pad, all exposed brick, steel, glass, and breathtaking views that make my tiny apartment feel very far away.
His bathroom is bigger than my living room. Suddenly I'm embarrassed that he even stayed at my apartment. For two nights. What would he have thought?
I ask him to give me a tour because I am in awe. And I want to see how the other side lives.
“This is the master bedroom”, he says, opening the door onto a huge room with the same exposed brick, and floor-to-ceiling windows, as well as touches of dark wood.
His bed is three times the size of mine.
He turns to leave, but I stand there, my eyes fixated on the bed, and the size of his room, and the view.
This man is from a different world to mine altogether and I start to worry that he and I are completely misaligned. It’s something I've never worried about before.
He puts his hands on my shoulders, peering at me as though he’s trying to figure out what's going on inside my head. “What's wrong?”
“N-nothing.”
But that's a lie.
My insides are in turmoil, and I'm not entirely sure why.
Maybe it's because places like this were never meant for people like me.
When I was younger, Vlad and I spent years testing the security of companies owned by men like Matteo, and his father. Corporations with glass towers, private elevators, and more money than they could ever spend. I was always on the outside looking in.
I'm having a hard time reconciling myself with being here. It's not the apartment, or the wealth as much as it’s the thought that Matteo wants me here.
“Elizabeth?” He brackets my face gently with both hands, tilting my face up so that I look at him.
“You have so much.” The words tumble out.
“My father has so much, and we’re lucky, I guess, to have all of this. Is it a problem?”
“I’ve never seen it up close. I’ve never been in places like this.”
He presses his lips to my forehead, drops a kiss on my nose, then my lips. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, for your childhood, and for all the things you’ve suffered. I wish I could do something to make it better.”
Me growing up in foster care seems to strike a nerve with Matteo. He looks at me like he wishes he could go back in time and change it. Fix it. Give me the things I never had.
“This isn’t me, Elizabeth. I’m not a playboy, I don’t throw money around, I don’t go to casinos or have women at my beck and call.
I love my mom, my family. I like order and systems, and I like you.
I like you a lot. Don’t let this …” He waves his hand around the room, “create obstacles between us.”
“I don’t want any obstacles between us,” I whisper.
We kiss again, tongues dueling, hands clinging, a fever building between us. My body starts to vibrate inside. Cells jangling with excitement. Here, alone in his bedroom where no one can interrupt us, my worries about him being the son of a billionaire soon fall away.
Now all I can think of is his mouth on mine, his body pressed hard to mine. Every time we kiss my panties turn slicker. Our kiss deepens, his tongue exploring my mouth, his hot sweet breath kissing my skin as he whispers, “I need to start cooking … you must be hungry.”
“I am hungry, but not for food,” I murmur against his lips.
Desire courses through my veins, and my hands tighten around his neck.
He kisses me so deeply, I moan into his mouth.
I am wound so tight with all the longing and anticipation I’ve felt for him.
All I want to do is forget about dinner, forget about being sensible, and lose myself in him.
“Oh, babe.” He grinds against me, and the feel of his hardness excites me even more. Heat and unbridled desire unleash, and we're on each other, hands exploring urgent and reckless. We've held back for too long and now there's no stopping us.
His hands slip down, and I mewl against his lips as he reaches down and helps me out of my sweatshirt. I try to help him out of his T, but he’s too big, and too tall, for me to pull it entirely over his head, so he does it.
Then he stands before me, topless, with his artwork and muscles on display, tempting and teasing me.
The throbbing between my legs turns into a dull ache. I've already seen and stroked the two Latin inscriptions on the inside of his wrists. But now my fingers trace over the ink running across his forearms. “Are you going to tell me what these mean now?”
Defiant, hooded eyes stare back at me. “What do you want to know?”
“Feathers. Four of them …”
“One for each of my brothers, and my mom.”
“Oh.”
Why does every answer of his lead me to more questions? I decide not to dig too deep yet. “And this?” My fingers skate over the cracked compass on his other forearm.
“Who doesn't need a sense of direction?” he replies.
That's not a satisfying answer and more questions float around in my head.
My hand moves along his chest, across the lines and patterns all over it, and then I move around him, behind him, and gasp when I see an oak tree inked across his skin.
Because his back is so broad, tapering at his waist into a perfect V, the tree stretches from shoulder to shoulder, its roots twisting down his spine and its branches spreading across powerful muscles, making it look almost alive.
I can't stop staring, but I can't look away. Every tattoo feels like a code I’m bursting to decipher. I want to ask so much, and yet now doesn’t seem like the right time.
He can tell me when he's ready.
I walk around to face him. “Are there more?” I ask, pouting up at him. “When we were trapped you told me you were inked all over.”
“None below the waist. Would you like to examine me all over?”
Can I breathe?
Is the sky blue?
Every single part of me screams ‘yes!’
Heat floods my body, twisting low in my stomach. My pulse races and suddenly I can't think straight. I reach between us, and brush my hand over the hard outline between his legs.
“Do I have your approval to touch this?” I remember his words to me on my first day in the tech lab.
But he grabs my wrist gently instead, his gaze dropping to my bra and he pulls me to him.
Our mouths clamp together again and we're a mess of hands working furiously to open each other's button and zippers. My jeans are so tight, they might as well be sprayed on me. He’ll struggle to take them off, so I do it for him. My panties come off with them.
I'm naked before he is, and his eyes light up with delight as he surveys me with his mouth hanging open.
Then, he lowers his head and gently kisses my jawline, before his lips lower and brush my neck.
I tilt my chin upwards, letting him drop kisses all over my shoulders and collarbone, moving lower and lower still.
He peels down one of my bra cups and his lips greedily latch onto my breast. My back arches as he sucks hungrily, feral noises coming from deep in his throat.
His mouth suctioned to my nipple is a feeling so divine, that I could come from this alone. I've been waiting weeks for this, but it’s not enough to satisfy the aching throb between my legs. I need something bigger, and right now, this isn't enough.
He gently pushes me back onto the bed, peels my panties off, but he’s still in his boxers, and that's not fair.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps, moving beside me and claiming my mouth again, shoving his tongue inside, driving me mad with desire.
His thumb brushes my nipples, the electric touch sending shockwaves along my skin.
I realize I’m suddenly naked. I don’t even remember him taking off my bra, but it’s gone.
I’m completely naked. His fingers slide between my slippery folds, making me moan long and deep. It’s too much; his tongue in my mouth, his fingers inside me.
I can’t think. I can only feel. My entire body is engulfed in sensation and need. Every nerve ending alive and fizzing with want.
“Take them off,” I pant, managing to come up for air.
He frowns at me, like I’ve interrupted something important.
I hook my fingers in either side of his boxer briefs and try to pull them down.
He stands up and yanks them down while I watch.
His cock, thick, wide and glistening, springs up, almost lying up against his stomach.
I sit up, and reach forward, touching it gingerly at first, before grasping it firmly in my hand.
Another growl comes from deep in his throat.
His eyes lock on mine, dark and intense, and the air between us turns hot and heavy.
I stand up, and we’re soon pressed flush against one another, skin to skin, hands roam freely, exploring, caressing, drawing shivers from one another while our mouths remain locked together, neither of us seeming able to get enough.
“Jump.”
My eyes flutter open. “What?”
“Jump up.”
I steady my hands on his shoulders, and with a quick lift, he scoops me up, my legs instinctively locking around his waist. The throbbing, dull ache between my legs gets a few seconds of relief as I press against him, but I need his cock inside me.
“What are we—”
He walks towards the wall, stopping me mid-sentence, and presses me up against it. My arms are still around his neck and my legs are wrapped around him as he braces one hand beside my head. I’m wide apart for him, but I don’t see how he’s going to—
Oh.
He positions himself against me, that first intimate touch sending a shiver through my entire body and setting every nerve ending alight.
We're breathing the same air, faces so close our gazes lock.
The anticipation is almost unbearable.