Chapter Fourteen
Matteo turned to leave, but Isla wasn’t finished. Not yet.
“Walking away?” she taunted, voice sharp, slicing through the thick air between them. “That’s a first.”
Matteo stilled, his back to her, the tension in his shoulders coiling tight like a spring. The room was filled with the weight of something dangerous, something neither of them wanted to name. Slowly, he turned, his dark gaze locking onto hers, unreadable yet burning with something barely restrained.
“Careful, wife.”
Isla took a slow step forward, closing the distance inch by inch, her fury and defiance fueling her recklessness. “Or what?” she challenged. “You’ll lock me away like one of your secrets? You’ll punish me?”
Matteo moved, fast and unforgiving, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her flush against him. “You think this is a game?” His voice was a whisper against her lips, rough and edged with something raw. “You have no idea what you’re playing with.”
Her breath hitched, but she refused to yield. “Then show me.”
The challenge was the final thread snapping between them.
His lips crashed against hers, brutal and consuming, his hands tangling into her hair as he pulled her closer. It wasn’t tender—it was war, a battle fought with teeth and tongues, with the tension of every unspoken word igniting into something neither of them could stop. Isla shoved at his chest, not to push him away, but to provoke, to match his force with her own. Matteo growled against her mouth, lifting her easily, setting her onto the desk as papers fluttered to the floor, forgotten in the storm between them.
His mouth was relentless, claiming every inch of her with a bruising intensity. His hands roamed, gripping, branding, pulling her into a heat that burned away reason. Isla gasped as he bit down on her bottom lip, her fingers threading through his hair, nails digging into his scalp as she met him with equal fire.
“I hate you,” she whispered against his mouth, but the words were breathless, traitorous.
Matteo’s smirk was against her skin, his lips moving to her jaw, to the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Liar.”
Her back arched as his hands slid down her spine, pressing her against him, the heat between them unbearable. He was unraveling her, and she despised how easily he could do it, how her body betrayed her even as her mind screamed to stop. But she didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not when the weight of their war had finally erupted into something real, something raw.
His hands gripped her thighs, dragging her closer, his breath uneven as he pulled back just enough to study her. “Say it,” he demanded.
She refused. Even as her pulse pounded, even as her fingers curled into his shirt, dragging him closer. “Say what?”
“That you want this.”
Her lips parted, a challenge in her gaze. “Make me.”
Matteo’s control shattered. He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, his hands roaming as if trying to memorize every inch of her. He didn’t just want to feel her—he wanted to possess her, to leave his mark in a way that couldn’t be erased. His fingers traced the curve of her hip before gripping tight, pulling her flush against him with an urgency that made her head spin.
Her breath hitched as he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice a low growl. “You drive me insane.”
Isla’s nails dug deeper into his shoulders, her body shivering from the sheer force of his need. “Then lose control, Matteo.”
A growl rumbled from his chest, something feral, something unrestrained. And then he did—he kissed her like he was claiming territory, like he had spent his entire life fighting against this one moment, only to finally give in. The room spun around them, the sheets twisting in their tangled limbs as they fought for dominance, as they surrendered to something inevitable.
His hands were everywhere—gripping, exploring, staking his claim. His teeth grazed along her throat, a wicked promise of the battle raging between them. “Mine,” he muttered against her skin, his voice thick with possession.
Her body betrayed her once more, arching into him, craving every touch, every press of his mouth against her flesh. “Say it again,” she challenged, her voice breathless, daring.
Matteo’s lips curled into a dark smirk as he dragged his mouth down her collarbone, his fingers pressing bruises into her skin. “Mine.”
And he meant it. Every inch of her, every breath, every shudder—she belonged to him in a way neither of them could deny. His hands slid lower, his grip unforgiving as he claimed her in the only way he knew how.
She fought him at every stage, her defiance a spark that set him ablaze. When he tried to slow, to savor, she twisted, forcing him to catch her, to wrestle for control that neither of them wanted to surrender. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper into their feverish battle. Her fingers scraped down his back, nails biting into flesh, a silent warning, a dare. Matteo growled in response, his mouth finding the curve of her shoulder, biting down hard enough to make her gasp.
“You can’t control me,” she panted, her lips brushing against his jaw as she twisted in his grip, trying to gain the upper hand.
Matteo’s dark laughter vibrated against her skin. “I don’t need to control you,” he murmured, flipping her back beneath him, pinning her wrists above her head. “I just need to make you beg.”
Isla’s eyes flashed, a challenge burning bright. “That will never happen.”
He smirked, dipping his head to kiss a path down her stomach, slow, agonizing. “We’ll see.”
She bucked beneath him, testing his hold, but he was immovable. His fingers teased along the sensitive lines of her body, setting every nerve on fire, pushing her toward the edge with cruel precision. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound, but Matteo saw the struggle, felt the way her body trembled beneath him.
“You’re fighting yourself,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Why?”
She clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. He smirked, his hands pressing her hips down as he resumed his torturous pace.
“Say it, Isla,” he coaxed, his voice dark silk. “Say you need me.”
She turned her head away, refusing.
He chuckled, the sound deep and knowing. “You’re so stubborn,” he murmured, dragging his lips back up to hers, capturing her mouth in a kiss that melted the last of her resistance. “But I like you this way. Fighting me. Giving in.”
She hated him for knowing her so well, for unraveling her piece by piece until all she could do was grip him tighter, pull him closer, meet him with equal hunger.
The night blurred into heat and desperation, an unspoken war fought in tangled sheets and whispered curses. It was reckless, inevitable, a fire neither of them had wanted to ignite but couldn’t put out.
Hours passed in a feverish haze, the tension between them spilling into every touch, every breathless whisper. Matteo was relentless, taking her apart with each touch, with each kiss, with each possessive grip that left no doubt—he wasn’t letting her go.
And Isla let him.
Because she didn’t want to be let go.
****
The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden light across the bed. Isla stirred, her body aching, her skin still humming from the night before. She blinked, her heart clenching as she turned toward the other side of the bed.
Empty.
Matteo was already up, already dressed, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to her. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed slightly as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. The Matteo from last night—the one who had touched her like she was something more than just a pawn—was gone.
For a long moment, she just watched him, the silence between them heavier than it had ever been. The air was thick with something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
Then he stood, running a hand down the buttons of his shirt, securing the last one before reaching for his watch. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t acknowledge her.
“Don’t think this changes anything.” His voice was cold, detached.
Isla swallowed the unexpected sting in her chest. She forced herself to smirk, to bury whatever foolish part of her had thought last night might have meant something. “Of course not.”
Matteo finally turned, his gaze unreadable, as if the fire from last night had never existed. He nodded once before walking out, the door clicking shut behind him with chilling finality.
The silence in the room was deafening.
Isla exhaled, sinking back against the pillows, her hands clutching the sheets that still smelled like him. She had thought she had won. That she had cracked through his impenetrable control. But Matteo had proved just how well he could build his walls back up.
And for the first time, Isla wasn’t sure if she had won—or if she had just lost herself entirely.