He tastes like spices and wine and something indefinable that’s all him, that mysterious, masculine drug his tongue is laced with. Off balance, I stumble back a step. My butt jostles the dresser and the fork clatters off the plate, but his mouth demands all my attention. As I cling to his biceps, he sinks his hands into my hair.
This kiss is harder than the one last night. More sexual. It’s a kiss that says clearly I want to do bad things to you, and my body responds as if he’s said it out loud.
My nipples harden. My breasts feel heavy and begin to ache. That restless burn starts between my legs, made hotter by Matteo flexing his hips against mine so his hardness is trapped between us, nudging so close to where I need him most.
I break away, worried about the open door and the thought of Mommy Dearest peering in, but Matteo doesn’t let me go. We stand chest to chest, crotch to crotch, breathing hard and gripping each other, staring deep into each other’s eyes.
My God. This man. He makes the word sexy inadequate.
He pulls my head back and inhales deeply against my throat. His cheek is hot and scratchy against my skin. When he nuzzles his nose into my hair, the rough scrape of stubble on his jaw raises a rash of goose bumps on my arms.
He says gruffly, “Tell me what you just thought that made you tremble.”
“I want to feel that rough jaw on the inside of my thighs.”
I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until Matteo turns to Cornelia and orders her out of the room. He follows her to the door and closes it behind her, then walks slowly back to me at the dresser, where I’m barely managing to hold myself up.
Without a word, he sinks to his knees on the carpet in front of me and pushes my dress up my bare thighs.
I only have time to squeak his name in shock before he puts his face between my legs. He inhales deeply there, too, makes a hungry sound in his chest, then opens his mouth and bites me through my panties.
Right. There.
It’s not hard. It doesn’t hurt. It’s more like a mark of ownership, like This is mine, and I’ll do anything to it that I want. It’s so unexpected and utterly sexy I can’t help but exhale a soft moan.
Matteo opens his eyes and gazes up at me as I stare down at him. The look in his eyes is so dark, so dangerous, it makes my heart pound. Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he slowly rubs his jaw along my inner thigh, chafing it with his stubble, then turns his head and presses a kiss to the same spot. When the tip of his tongue snakes out and licks my skin, a wave of heat engulfs my entire body.
He turns his head to my other thigh, rubs his jaw over it, kisses it, and licks it as he did on the other side. Only now he’s using his hand, too, stroking his thumb over the naked flesh next to the edge of my panties, pinching it gently, testing it and learning its firmness, how it feels under his fingers and his teeth.
His erection makes a thick bulge down one leg of his trousers. My nipples are so hard they jut straight through the bodice of my dress, two taut points of sensation screaming for attention from the hot, wet pleasure of his mouth.
“Spread your legs.” He runs the tip of his nose up and down the damp spot on the front of my underwear. When I don’t obey him, he shakes his head and tsks.
Then he opens his mouth and suckles my throbbing clit right through my panties.
I suck in a hard breath, my back stiffening, my eyes wide. This is so wrong, but it feels so right that all I want to do is grind my crotch into his face and let him make me come, just like this, dirty and quick.
He says something in Italian, his voice guttural, his eyes burning. Then he’s up on his feet in a blinding-fast move. He drags me against him so my breasts are smashed against the hard expanse of his chest. He kisses me again, so forcefully it bends me back at the waist.
He cups my head in one hand and caresses my breast with the other, squeezing the fullness of it in his palm, stroking and pinching my aching nipple through the fabric. When I groan into his mouth, he shoves the plate of food aside and lifts me onto the dresser.
My dress is bunched up around my thighs. My legs are open around his hips. My brain blinks offline, so now it’s nothing but sensation.
His fingers slide like butter through the buttons on the front of my dress. I’m exposed to him in seconds, flushed skin and rapid breathing, a pink bra that’s no match for his expert hands. The clip is in the front. He finds the way of it without even breaking away from my mouth, and my breasts spill out into his hands.
When he pinches both my nipples, I arch and shudder, whimpering. He lowers his dark head to one of my breasts and sucks a hard nipple into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, gasping. Lost.
He moves to my other breast, licking and sucking, murmuring in English and Italian as I pant and writhe against him, my head thrown back and my eyes closed.
“So sweet.”
“Cosi perfetta.”
“Il mio perfetta dolci amore.”
His words are so soft, his tone so ardent and tender, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. The hot prick of tears stings my eyes. I suck in a ragged breath, trying desperately not to cry.
All those times I slept with Brad were fake. My life was a lie. And here I am in the arms of a man who could just as easily be playing me.
Am I being used again?
“Easy.” He’s hugging me now, cradling me against his chest with his cheek pressed to the side of my neck and his body curved into mine. He combs a hand through my hair, strokes my back, softly shushes me when I make a noise of distress. “Just breathe, bella. Shh.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not. And don’t lie to me again.”
His voice is both soft and hard, a caress and a command, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I can’t hide from him—and the next time I try, there will be consequences.
I push against his chest but he’s immovable. His arms around me turn into an iron band. He lowers his mouth to my ear and says in a low voice, “Running away won’t solve anything. Talk to me. What just happened?”
I hide my face in his chest, tucking my forehead under his collarbone. I blink hard and fast, trying to clear the water from my eyes. “I’m not as tough as I act.”
The softest of chuckles passes his lips. “I know,” he whispers, tracing his fingertips down my spine. “It’s one of the things I adore about you.”
Oh God. What that does to my poor heart. You’d think it would’ve had enough of sweet-talking men by now, but it does somersaults in my chest like the sad clown it is.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
I lift my head and meet his gaze. He blinks in surprise when he sees my face, his brows drawing together. I imagine I look like a wild animal backed into a corner.
“You told me you wanted to buy my father’s business. You made it clear you don’t think I have what it takes to make it in fashion here. And this game you’re playing, the kissing game—what’s the point? Are you hoping I’ll develop feelings for you so I’ll sell? Are you trying to make me fall in love with you so you can get what you really want—the business?”
He’s focused on me with startling intensity. His eyes drill down into mine. “Do you have feelings for me?”
His tone is emotionless. It reveals nothing about what he might be thinking or feeling, and neither does his face. All I can see for sure is his extreme focus and intensity, which tells me only that my answer is important to him but not why.
Don’t be a fool. Don’t let a beautiful liar break your heart again.
I decide to deflect and see how he’ll handle it. “What were you and your mother talking about when I came in?”
His left eyelid twitches, but that’s the only reaction I get. After a moment of silence, he says, “Nothing important.”
“If it’s not important you can share it with me. What was it?”
A muscle flexes in his jaw. He slowly inhales and exhales. I suspect he’s buying time.
And just like that, I’m out. That moment of hesitation tells me all I need to know.
Looking him dead in the eyes, I say, “Step back.”
His brows lower and he scowls, the way he does when he’s displeased. I can see threats are needed.
“Unless you want me to turn your balls into pancakes with my knee, step back.”
For a moment he doesn’t move. Then he curses under his breath and steps away, folding his arms over his chest so he and his balls can glower at me from a safer distance.
I fasten the buttons of my bodice with clumsy fingers, ashamed at myself for letting him get to me so easily. I can still feel his mouth on my skin.
“Tell me if you have feelings for me.” His voice is dangerously soft.
“Tell me if you’re manipulating me.”
Irritated by my answer, he shakes his head. “I told you—I’m not your ex.”
“Which is exactly what a man trying to manipulate me would say. It would’ve been easier for you to simply say no. Unless the real answer is yes.”
He rakes his hands through his hair, curses again, then starts to pace the room.
“Okay, you want me to talk to you? Here goes. I’ll give you my worst-case scenario. Your mother—who, by your own admission, is disappointed in you—needs some insurance on my promise not to kick her out of the house. She got nothing from my father in his will, which must’ve really stung, but his dopey daughter was recently dumped in the most spectacular way, and she’s vulnerable. She owns a business that you’d like to get your hands on and an expensive house your mother would like to legally get her hands on, so the two of you decide that you’ll work your magic and make the dopey daughter fall in love with you so she’ll hand over the keys to the kingdom with a smile.
“Conveniently, you’re in possession of a sketch pad the dopey daughter desperately wants back, so you concoct a clever ploy that forces the two of you to spend time with your faces stuck together. What better way to get those hormones wreaking havoc on her brain? Once you’ve convinced her to sell you the business and put your mother on the title of the house, you’ll be back in your mother’s good graces and everyone lives happily ever after.
“Except me. The idiot Kimberella, screwed by another toad masquerading as a prince.”
By this time, Matteo has stopped pacing. He stares at me with his arms hanging loose at his sides and his lips slightly parted, a strange expression on his face. “That’s what you think?”
I can’t tell if I’ve shocked him with my accuracy or if he’s about to lunge at me and wrap his hands around my throat. His expression is unnerving.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“That’s the kind of man you think I am,” he presses. “A lying, scheming, manipulative prick so desperate for his mother’s approval he’d fake his attraction to you before he even knew who you were.” When I look confused, he clarifies. “At the airport, I didn’t know who you were. At the hotel, I still didn’t know who you were. I only found out you were Luca’s daughter when I walked into the living room of this house and you were sitting on the sofa.”
That sound I’m hearing is a tiny hiss of air being released from the pin he just stuck into my balloon of paranoia. “Maybe you decided after you discovered who I was that the mutual attraction would make it easier all around.”
“Easier to fuck you over, you mean,” he says, his voice hollow.
My pulse is all over the place. My mouth has gone dry. I wish I could tell what his expression is saying, but I’m such a poor judge of character I’d probably decide it was acid reflux and offer the man a Tums.
“Tell me you’re not. Tell me I’ve made the whole thing up in my head. Tell me what you and your mother were talking about when I came in.”
He answers without hesitation. “We were talking about you.”
I knew it! “What about me?” I snap.
His eyes flash. He snaps back, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so what’s the point?”
“Maybe you should trust me!”
I laugh, but it sounds awful. Like I’m dying on the inside. “Sorry, Count, trust is something I’m fresh out of.”
His face flushes red in a wave from his neck to his hairline. A vein pops out in his forehead. He inhales a slow deep breath, gritting his teeth. “I’m. A. Fucking. Marchese.”
He stalks over to the door, yanks it open, and slams it shut behind him, so hard the windows rattle.
I holler, “Way to put some stank on it!”
The only answer I hear is the sound of his footsteps pounding angrily down the hall.