Chapter Thirty-Seven
Erin
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Matteo’s deep voice rumbles through his chest where I have been drawing lazy circles for the last ten minutes.
I pause, trying to find the right words. “I was…thinking about this. About us.”
He slides his hand down my back, slow and possessive. “What about us?”
I lift my head to look him in the eyes. His gaze is intense, unblinking.
“It’s just…you’re not what I thought you’d be.”
He raises a brow. “Disappointed?”
I snort. “Don’t fish for compliments.”
“I wasn’t.” His mouth lifts slightly. “I was bracing myself.”
That makes me smile, but then the question that has been running through my head slips out. “Matteo?”
“Mmh?” He hums low in his throat, his hand still caressing my back.
I hesitate. “Do you ever feel like going down to the club?”
His hand stills. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m…merely curious.” I feel flustered now and start to lift myself up.
But he bands his arm around my waist, pinning me back to him. “If you were curious about the club, why didn’t you ask me instead of…” He grips my hip, hard, and his voice becomes rougher. “Instead of going down there on your own. Jesus, anything could have happened if I hadn’t—”
“Relax, Matteo,” I cut in. “You were there and nothing happened.”
He exhales slowly, as if trying to regain composure. “Yeah.”
“You told me that you were not going there to…you know.” I feel my face heat. “But do you…are you into that kind of stuff?”
He chuckles at my embarrassment. “You mean Dom/sub dynamics? BDSM? Spanking? Be more specific.”
I have never been ashamed of my sexuality, but discussing this with him is…awkward. Why does my mouth always run faster than my brain?
“Ugh, never mind.” My face is flaming now and I push back with the intention to get up. But he only intensifies his hold, trapping me against him.
“No, amore .” He is serious now. “I’m not into hard BDSM, although I do like…power play and control.” His eyes lock on mine, scorching and hungry.
I frown. “Then you’ve tried?”
He resumes his slow, steady caress over my back. “I did conduct some research before I opened Second Circle.”
“And? You didn’t like it?” I’m curious now. This is a whole new world to me and somehow, I still can’t reconcile Matteo with the idea I have of this kind of place.
There is a beat of silence then he murmurs, “I didn’t find anyone I wanted to share that kind of intimacy with.”
Oh . I shift, suddenly unsure where to look. “Right, that makes sense…”
He watches me squirm for a while with a knowing smile. “Wanna go down there, little ghost?” he asks quietly.
I raise on my elbows, blinking down at him. “You’re offering to take me?”
“Only if you want to,” he replies, face unreadable. “I won’t push you into anything.”
My heart beats wildly in my chest. Do I want to open that door? Do I want to make myself vulnerable to him? Part of me is reserved, but the other, larger part is curious to see, curious to be with him like this.
“Okay,” I whisper before my resolve falters. “Show me…show me what it’s like.”
* * * *
I step out of the bathroom and instantly see the dress Matteo laid out on the bed for me.
It is midnight-black and shiny. I carefully pick it up and let the fabric flow through my fingers like liquid.
At first glance it looks rather tame, ankle-length and with a spaghetti-strapped bodice.
But then I see the slit and inhale sharply.
The opening rides up so high that I instantly know I can’t wear anything underneath.
I slip the dress on and turn to the mirror.
And blink. I look…decadent. The fabric hugs me snugly before it flows down to my feet in a whisper of black silk.
I tie on a pair of black strappy high heels, then move to the dresser to put on a little makeup.
Nothing dramatic, just enough to feel confident.
And I let my hair down.
‘I like your hair down. It looks like liquid gold.’
I let out a shuddering breath and walk to the door, heart hammering in my chest.
Here goes nothing.
When I step out and into the living room, I immediately spot Matteo. He is dressed in black too—black slacks, a dark open-collar shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his tattoos coiling underneath. His hair is swept back, and he looks devastating.
His fingers are flying over the screen of his smartphone. He pockets it the moment he hears me step into the room and looks up. And freezes.
He takes a step toward me, then stops.
“ Dios .” He breathes out roughly, raking his fingers through his hair. “ Amore… you’re…” His voice falters. Then he takes another step, and another, until he is standing before me, breathing hard. He lifts his hand to my face and trails his knuckles along my cheek. “You take my breath away.”
I look up at him, suddenly feeling shy.
He takes my hand and raises it to his lips for a kiss. “Come,” he says in a hoarse voice. He tugs me along to the low coffee table where I see a black velvet box. He releases my hand and steps toward it. Then he turns back to me to show me the collar in his hand and my breath hitches in my throat.
It’s a slim metal band enameled in obsidian black. There is a teardrop-shaped black diamond dangling from the center, clearly meant to settle in the hollow of my throat.
My heart skips. “You had this already?”
“The day after I found you down there.” His eyes are burning. “I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I needed more of you in that space.”
My fingers shake when I reach out to touch the smooth metal. “And the color…it means something, doesn’t it?”
He nods curtly, gaze intense. “Black is mine. No one wears it unless they belong to me. And a collar means taken, off-limits.”
Heat pools low in my belly, and my heart stutters.
Then understanding crashes through me. “Wait, are there other colors? Like codes?”
His mouth pulls into something between a smirk and a warning.
“Yes. Color signals are everything down there. White is for no touching or interaction unless invited. Blue indicates open to conversation, dancing and light touches. Purple states openness for sensual vanilla encounters. And red”—his face gets serious—“signals full availability for whatever.”
My blood runs cold and my breath hitches. “I wore a red bracelet the other night.” I feel lightheaded.
“I know.” His jaw is clenched.
“I-I didn’t know.” Mortification submerges me like a wave.
He steps closer and winds his arm around my waist in a possessive gesture.
“You didn’t know. But that bastard did.” The muscle in his jaw ticks, but his kiss is achingly tender as he brushes his lips over mine.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He breathes against my lips. “Not in there, not out here. Not ever.”