Chapter 3
Chapter Three
CHASTITY
H eaven help me .
In an instant, I knew my prayers were useless. No saint or angel above would be coming down to save me. Not from myself and earthly impulses. They’d be too ashamed. Too horrified.
Even God above was probably turning his head away from me.
What other reaction would be appropriate to such a wanton display of lust?
Even I knew it was wrong…but I still couldn’t help myself.
And Lord knew I’d tried.
From the moment Matteo had slid his long, strong fingers against my skin, taking me by the wrist and guiding me to this secluded office, I’d been fighting against these baser urges.
I’d done my best to keep my distance. Fought to clear my head. Tried to push back all the erotic fantasies that had played over and over in my head about him over the years.
But in the end, I was too weak.
Or his presence was too strong.
It was hard to tell the difference between the two.
Maybe later, when my mind wasn’t all fogged up from a mix of liquor and lust, I’d find the courage to beg forgiveness for my vast multitude of sins, but at that moment, I wasn’t done falling headlong into the pit.
The feel of Matteo’s lips against mine, the warm wash of his breath over my skin, the taste of his tongue—it was all too overwhelming.
It was everything I’d ever dreamed about.
No. It was more.
All those years, I could only guess what it would feel like to press my body against his. To have his arms—powerful and strong—wrap around me. To completely give myself up to a single moment of pleasure.
But now it was real.
And it was so much better than I could have ever imagined.
My heart pounded in my chest. My skin tingled. Every breath felt like fire.
It was like I was coming alive for the first time. Not just breathing. Not just existing. But living .
I may have started the kiss, but he deepened it, his fingers holding fast to the nape of my neck—the one exposed swath of skin not hidden under the wool of my habit.
His posture changed. Up to now, he’d been relaxed, both in body and attitude. But now, I could feel him tensing under my touch. Every muscle seemed to spring to life, coiling and tightening. I could feel his strength and power beneath the fine material of his dark suit.
And damn, I liked it.
I wanted more.
More of his kiss. More of his touch. More of his body against mine.
Without thinking—without really knowing what I was doing—I slid my hands down his chest. Over the crisp cotton of his Oxford shirt and the smooth bone buttons. Down to the finely tailored waist of his bespoke pants.
A part of me wanted to believe it was the devil guiding my hands as I gripped the material of his shirt and tugged the tails free—but no.
It was me.
Just me and my aching desire to feel more of Matteo. To press my palms against his bare skin and finally feel him.
He made a sound as I pushed his shirt up, exposing the hard-muscled plain of his belly. An animal-like sound—low and growly. The reverberations ignited something in me. Some kind of primal fire that took root deep in my core and threatened to spread through every inch of my body.
Beneath my touch, Matteo laughed—a wickedly tempting sound that made me bite into my lower lip as I prayed for restraint.
“Careful, Chastity,” he said, even as he leaned back against the couch cushions, giving me plenty of room to pluck his shirt buttons free. “You’re going down a road it’s hard to come back from.”
The road to hell, no doubt.
A road paved with the sweetest temptations a tragically repressed girl like me could ever want.
And damn, if I didn’t want him.
So much so that I couldn’t help licking my lips as I finally popped the last button on Matteo’s shirt and pushed the edges apart.
Oh. My. God.
In all of my dreams, in all of my fantasies, I’d never pictured him looking so...so perfect .
His chest was tight and tanned. Not thin and elegantly sculpted like the leading men in movies—but thick and strong. Robust. Powerful.
Real.
And right in front of me.
For a moment, I was too overwhelmed by the sight of him to move. But as I lifted my head and locked eyes with his obsidian gaze, the fear in me began to melt away, replaced by burning need.
“Can I touch you?” I asked hesitantly, feeling painfully ignorant of how these interactions usually went.
Instead of answering, he reached out, took my hand, and placed it palm down in the center of his chest.
I closed my eyes as I felt the hard and constant pounding of his heartbeat.
I didn’t wait for any more permission before laying my other hand down flat against the lower reaches of his belly and slowly sliding it up to his chest.
For a moment, I just sat there, the skirt of my habit pushed up just high enough to allow my legs to straddle his, my fingers spread wide against the heated expanse of his skin. Our eyes locked; our breathing in synch.
It was perfect.
All I’d ever dreamed of.
…and still, it wasn’t enough.
A seemingly unquenchable need rose up inside me. A hunger so powerful it threatened to consume me whole. The pounding desire for more .
“Can…Can I kiss you again?” I asked, now even more self-conscious than before. “Not on the mouth this time, but…lower.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but the unfathomable depths of his brown eyes darkened ever further.
“Fuck, Chastity.” Now his voice really was a growl. “Do you have any idea what talk like that does to a man?”
I shook my head. But even as I did, I could feel the energy in his body tightening beneath my hands—a sensation far more intoxicating than any liquor on earth.
“Is that a yes?” I asked.
Again, he answered, not in words but in action, cupping the back of my neck and guiding my mouth down to the center of his chest.
For a second, I couldn’t do anything but breathe. The faint earthy scent of soap and skin rose up with the heat of his body as I pressed my lips against his breastbone.
Hesitantly, I opened my mouth, flicking the tip of my tongue against his flesh. Above me, Matteo hissed in a breath, the sound both sharp and heady.
It was enough to spur me on.
I opened my mouth wider—truly tasting him. But with every kiss, the hunger inside me only grew. Fiercer and wilder. More urgent and pounding.
Matteo’s hands moved up from the back of my neck to my hair, ripping off the simple white covering and tossing it across the room. A tangle of tresses fell, and his fingers curled inside them as another one of his primal growls filled the room.
“Yes,” he said as I moved down from his chest to his belly. “Yes. Fuck , yes,” as my head dipped down even more.
All the way down to the edge of his pants.
His whole body tightened as I flicked the tip of my tongue no more than a millimeter or two below the waistband.
I wasn’t so naive that I didn’t know where I was heading. Some wicked part of me knew what I’d been doing the whole time.
Knew and didn’t want to stop. Wanted to keep going farther. Pushing myself right over the edge of no return.
But now that I was finally at the crossroads, I wasn’t so certain which was the best choice—stop and beg the Lord above for forgiveness or plunge headlong into the depth of true carnal sin.
I drew in a shaky breath, hesitating for just a second. Frozen in fear of making a decision that would define the path of my life from that moment on.
But as it turned out, I didn’t have to choose. The decision was made for me.
In the next breath, Matteo’s office door forcefully flew. The pictures on the wall rattled in their frames as voice I knew far too well echoed off the walls.
“Matteo D’Angelo! You are a dead man.”
Oh, shit .
My father was here.