Chapter Fifty-One
Matteo
H ours later, we’re tangled in her bed, limbs intertwined, skin slick with sweat.
The sheets are halfway off the mattress, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, and I’ve got an arm slung possessively around her waist.
My body is heavy with exhaustion, but I don’t mind it. Not when she’s here.
Daphne rests her head against my chest, her fingers moving in slow, lazy patterns over my stomach. Her touch is soft, easy and absentminded, but it does something to me anyway.
Makes me feel settled in a way I probably shouldn’t.
I hum, the sound vibrating through my chest, contentment bleeding through my veins.
"Do you do that much cardio every day at training?" she asks, her voice raspy from exertion.
I chuckle, my grip on her waist tightening just slightly. "Nope. This was extra ."
"For me?" she teases.
"Of course." I press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the lingering scent of her shampoo. "I’m a dedicated athlete, giornalista . I always go the extra mile."
She snorts, her breath warm against my skin. "I think you went an extra three miles tonight."
"Hmm. You kept up pretty well."
She lifts her head to glare at me, and I grin because I love getting under her skin.
"Careful, Rossi."
I smirk.
"You know I’m always careful when it counts."
She laughs softly, and just like that, the weight of everything else fades. My thumb brushes over her cheek, and my smirk eases into something softer.
"Come and stay with me this weekend."
Her brows lift slightly, like she wasn’t expecting it.
"I - at your place?"
"Yeah." I nod. "Training’s been brutal with the final next week, but we could hang out, swim, relax, eat too much pasta..."
"Why do I have a feeling that your idea of relaxing involves running sprints up your driveway?"
"Only if you join me," I smirk.
"I don’t know… a whole weekend at your place?" she muses, eyes twinkling. "Sounds suspiciously like you’re trying to woo me."
I grin.
"What gave me away?"
"You inviting me, for one. And the pasta," she says. "You know I can never resist good carbs."
"Perfect." I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Then you’ll be there on Friday night."
She hesitates, just for a second, and I catch it.
"Are you sure?" she asks. "I mean… the game next week is huge . Shouldn’t you be, like, meditating alone in a dark room or something?"
"No,” I chuckle, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns on her hip. “I don’t need meditation. I’ve got you ."
She laughs softly. "What, am I your lucky charm now?"
"Absolutely." My voice drops lower. " And you’ll be there next week, sì ?"
She nods.
" Mmhm. Don’t worry - you can expect one more post-match interview from me."
" Good ." I smirk, brushing my lips against her jawline. "And you’ll get to watch me lift the trophy with your own eyes."
She snorts, shaking her head.
"God, your confidence is something else ."
I grin.
"What can I say? I know how to win. And even more than that… I like giving you a good show."
"Is that right?"
"Of course." My grip tightens on her waist, pulling her closer. "You get to watch history, bella . Me, Roma, the trophy… It’ll be a huge celebration. Champagne showers all around."
I pause, letting my smile turn wicked.
"Who knows? Maybe I’ll pull you onto the pitch for a kiss. Give the cameras something else to obsess over."
Her cheeks heat, and I know I’ve got her right where I want her.
"No, thank you," she mutters. "The public is already far too invested in whatever this is."
"Exactly." I flash her a teasing grin. "So you might as well give the people what they want."
She rolls her eyes, but there’s amusement in them, and I love that I can pull it out of her so easily.
She stretches beneath me, her body shifting against mine, and fuck , the movement alone has me hardening again.
I clear my throat, shifting to prop myself up on one elbow.
"The team has booked out an entire hotel for the players, coaches, staff - everyone,” I tell her. “Where will you be?"
She shrugs.
"I’m not actually sure. Richard only booked my hotel last week."
"Not to worry,” I hum, trailing my fingers lazily down her bare thigh. “I expect you’ll be visiting me."
"Visiting you?"
"Sì . Professionally, of course . "
"Mixing work and pleasure, Rossi?" she laughs. "Isn’t that against your strict athletic code?"
"You’re worth bending the rules for."
She stills for just a beat. I see it - the way her throat works as she swallows, the way something unreadable flickers in her eyes.
She knows what I mean, and I meant what I said .
But instead of addressing it, she huffs out a breath and forces a smirk.
"And if I behave myself?" she asks. "Will I get another exclusive?"
"Absolutely." I roll on top of her, pinning her beneath the weight of my body. "And you can interview me very thoroughly while I recover from my goal-scoring, trophy-lifting, game-winning performance."
"God, you’re insufferable," she groans, flopping back against the pillows.
I chuckle as I lower my lips to her ear, my stubble grazing her skin.
"And yet," I whisper, "you can’t resist me."
She opens her mouth to argue, but I move lower, my lips tracing along her throat, sucking lightly at her pulse point, and she melts .
"See?" I tease, voice thick with amusement as her legs wrap easily around my waist. "No resistance . "
"I… I could resist if I wanted to," she breathes.
I lift my head, eyes glinting. "Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Okay, bella ,” I smirk. “Let’s test that theory."
I move lower, my mouth trailing over her collarbone, my hand gliding down her stomach, slipping between her thighs.
She gasps the second my fingers stroke over her clit.
“Still resisting?”
I keep my touch featherlight, teasing her until she’s trembling beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, her breath coming in soft, desperate whimpers.
"Still resisting?" I repeat, voice rough.
She barely manages to shake her head, and I chuckle darkly.
"Stubborn woman."
I push two fingers inside her, and she moans , her hips lifting to meet my touch.
"Say it," I command. " Say it, Daphne . "
"I -" She gasps as my thumb circles her clit, her whole body tensing beneath me. "I can’t resist you."
And just like that, she falls apart for me.
Slow, and soft, and perfect.
*
We lie there for a while, tangled up in her sheets, again, bodies warm and heavy.
The room is quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of our breaths, but it’s a good silence - one that’s full of contentment.
Daphne is draped over me, her head resting against my chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles over my chest. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of her body against mine.
And then her stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl.
My chest rumbles with laughter before I can stop it.
"Was that you, or did a wild animal break into your apartment?"
She groans, burrowing deeper into me like that’ll make me forget what I just heard.
" Shut up. I had an early lunch, okay."
"The pizza," I remember suddenly, smirking. "The pizza I brought is still in the fridge, no ?"
"Right," she mumbles, reluctant to move. "The pizza you promised me last night before we… got distracted . I had some earlier, but the rest of it is in the fridge."
I smirk, running my hand up and down the soft skin of her back.
"I brought it for moral support." My fingers dip lower, squeezing her waist. "Can't help it if I’m more distracting than carbs."
She rolls her eyes and pushes herself up, clearly preparing to get out of bed.
"I’ll go heat it up."
But before she can even swing her legs over the edge, I tighten my arm around her waist and pull her right back down against me, pressing my lips to her temple.
" No ," I say firmly. " I’ll take care of it. You stay put."
She tilts her chin, blinking up at me in surprise.
"You'll heat up the pizza?"
" Shocking , I know," I smirk, fingers brushing her bare hip beneath the sheets. "But I can handle an oven, giornalista . I’m not completely useless outside the stadium."
"Debatable," she quips, but I see the way her face softens, the way her lips twitch, like she’s trying to hide how much she likes this.
I press another kiss to her temple, then slip out of bed, grabbing my boxers.I feel her watching me as I walk toward the kitchen, and the knowledge sends a rush of smug satisfaction straight to my chest.
Let her look.
She likes looking.
And fuck if I don’t like being looked at by her .
By the time I disappear from view, I hear the soft thump of her head hitting the pillow, and I smirk to myself as I pull open her fridge.
*
Fifteen minutes later, I return with the pizza box balanced in one hand, two bottles of water tucked under my arm.
"Delivery," I announce, setting everything down on the nightstand. "One slightly stale pizza, reheated to perfection."
Daphne props herself up on one elbow, reaching for a slice.
She takes a bite and hums in appreciation, clearly not giving a shit that it’s slightly overcooked.
We eat in comfortable silence, elbows brushing occasionally, our legs tangled beneath the sheets.
For a guy who’s spent the better part of his career surrounded by noise - stadiums full of roaring fans, coaches barking instructions, the media constantly pressing in - this kind of quiet should be unsettling.
But with her, it’s not.
With her, it just is .
Eventually, I set my water bottle aside and tug her back into my arms, guiding her head onto my chest. My fingers find her hair, threading through the strands in slow, lazy strokes.
"You okay?" I murmur, my lips brushing the top of her head.
She exhales softly, nodding against my skin.
"Yeah. I think I am."
A satisfied hum rumbles through my chest as I press a quick kiss against her hair.
" Good. "
I intertwine our fingers, my grip firm, my touch steady.
"And I meant what I said about Mark," I continue, my voice dropping slightly. "I’ll handle it. You just keep doing what you do best."
"What’s that?" she asks, teasing. "Getting into arguments with arrogant footballers?"
I chuckle, squeezing her hand.
" No. "
I tilt my head slightly, pressing my lips to the edge of her jaw, just because I can.
"Being you. Smart. Stubborn. And brilliant at what you do."
She stills for just a fraction of a second.
Then she melts .
I feel it in the way her body relaxes against mine, in the way she exhales like she’s been holding onto something tight all day and is finally letting it go.
I don’t say anything else.
I just tighten my hold on her and let her lean.