KIMBER
I come awake slowly, feeling hot and thirsty. There’s heat at my back, and a weight over my waist, and my first thought is that Cornelia’s in bed spooning me again.
Then I remember Cornelia’s in Milan with the marchesa, and open my eyes.
The weight around my waist turns out to be an arm. A human arm. Judging by the muscles and overall size, it belongs to a male.
“You snore,” says a husky voice behind me.
I’m swamped with sweet relief. He came! “No, I don’t.”
“Like this.” Matteo breathes heavily in and out, mimicking Darth Vader.
“You’re lying! I do not!”
When I hear him chuckle, I want to elbow him, but then I get a kiss on my bare shoulder and melt instead.
“I’ll record it next time.”
I roll over onto my other side and snuggle into his chest. He’s fully dressed, including socks, which I discover when I slip my feet between his.
“You’re under the covers with me.”
“I am.”
“And you have all your clothes on.”
“You have a gift for stating the obvious.”
If I didn’t hear the affection in his tone, I’d slug him, but his voice is so sleepy and warm I sigh with contentment instead and snuggle in deeper. With my eyes closed, I whisper, “I didn’t die from alcohol poisoning. Wanna know why?”
His chest rises and falls with his heavy exhalation.
“Because you came and saved me.”
“You’re deeply strange.”
“C’mon. Play.”
Another exhalation, accompanied by a kiss pressed to the top of my head. Despite the pain behind my eyeballs, I’m so content I could float right out of bed.
He says, “Yes. I rode in on my stallion and saved you from a wine overdose. I’m a true hero. I deserve a parade.”
“At least a plaque,” I say, nodding. “Or a commemorative mug.”
“I’m angry with you,” he says, and really sounds like he means it.
My heart starts to pound. “Because of what happened with Dominic?”
“Because this is the second time I’ve been awake all night worried about you choking to death on your own vomit.”
I wrinkle my nose at the visual. “Ew.”
“Precisely. Do we need to talk about this?”
I stick my face into the space between his shoulder and neck and suck in a lungful of his scent. “Before I met you, I’d only had one other hangover in my life. It was the first and last time I drank gin. I was sixteen.”
“So you’re telling me it’s not a habit.”
“I’m telling you it’s not a habit.”
He exhales again, sounding relieved. His arms tighten around my back.
Smiling into his neck, I whisper, “You’re very protective for someone who’s giving me space.”
His voice gets all gruff and growly. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘Don’t poke the bear’?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because you are poking the bear.”
“I’m sorry.” I pause for a moment, then whisper, “But I’m crazy about the bear, and I don’t like it when he doesn’t want to be around me, so I have to chase after him with a stick and poke him until he pays attention to me again. Even though the egg isn’t supposed to chase after the sperm.”
Matteo pulls his head away and looks down at me, furrowing his brow. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I don’t know anymore. His eyes are so blue they’re blinding me. God, this man is beautiful up close. “Do you even have pores?”
He blinks. “You’re still drunk.”
“No, I’m sober. It’s just that you’re incredibly handsome.”
His expression sours. “You’re trying to butter me up.”
“Is it working?”
“No. I’m still angry with you.”
“I thought we made up!”
He looks confused for a moment. “Did we?” Then he shakes his head. “Even if we did, I’m still angry. And you still need time.”
“There you go, telling me what I need again. I think you should listen to someone else who’s telling you what I need. His ideas are much better.”
I flex my hips against the bulge in his pants so there’s no mistake about my meaning. Matteo lets out a soft groan and fists his hand in my hair.
“You’re in bed with me with a raging hard-on. You don’t want me to stop.”
I kiss his neck, give it a gentle bite, and wriggle my hips in what I hope is an enticing fashion against him. For my efforts, I’m rolled onto my back with my wrists pinned to the pillow over my head, and glared at.
“I’m in bed with you because you hung up on me after threatening to die,” he says.
God, he’s hot. Look at this gorgeous hunk of a man, so pissed off and sexy.
He grits his teeth. “Don’t. Look. At. Me. Like. That.”
“Make love to me.”
He groans and drops his forehead to my chest. “You want to kill me, is that it? You’re hoping to murder me?”
“I can think of worse ways to go.” I arch my back so my breasts press against his face.
He makes a sound like he’s deeply in pain and nuzzles his nose into my cleavage. “What is this thing you’re wearing?”
“A nightie. I put it on hoping you’d come over. Do you like it?”
“It’s not a nightie, it’s a torture device. I hate it.” He lovingly rubs his cheek against it and sighs.
I squirm underneath him, wanting him to release my wrists so I can paw his perfect body. “Let me go,” I say breathlessly, heat washing over me.
When he glances up at me, I catch my breath. His eyes have gone so dark. There’s a stillness in them, a new danger, and suddenly it’s very hard to breathe.
“No,” he says softly, as if to himself. “I don’t think I will.”
He transfers both my wrists to one hand and rips off his belt in a whip-crack move that has me gasping in surprise. He winds his belt around my wrists, ties it off to the headboard, and gazes down at me in hungry silence, inspecting my body.
His lips curve into a ruthless smile.
“Matteo—”
“Quiet.”
The dominant tone in his voice shuts me up just as fast as it turns me on. I bite my lip, watching him, feeling my pulse go from a trot to a gallop. I think I might ignite.
On his knees between my legs, he slowly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the floor. Looking at his abs, I squirm a little more, dying to feel him on top of me.
He climbs off the bed and casually strolls into the bathroom.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Aspirin,” he says over his shoulder. “Water.”
I drop my head back onto the pillow, close my eyes, and gnash my teeth. From the bathroom comes a low chuckle.
“What was that noise? Do we have two bears in the room?”
“You’re so lucky I’m tied up right now,” I say, breathing hard with the urge to throw something at him—primarily myself. “If I wasn’t tied up, I’d kick your butt. I’d do such a gnarly karate chop on your head, it would fly clean off. I’d—”
“Good thing you are tied up, then.” He appears at the bedside as quickly as he left, holding a glass of water in one hand and two small white pills in the other. Watching me glare at him, he smiles.
“Is this punishment for believing Dominic?”
“No. This is punishment for making me worry and shaving years off my life with that mouth of yours. Take these.” He holds out the aspirin.
I stick out my tongue and let him lift the glass of water to my lips so I can drink. After I swallow, I go back to glaring at him.
He sets the glass on the bedside table without looking away from me, murmuring, “But you know I won’t let you suffer too long.”
I make an incoherent peep of lust and squirm some more.
He straddles me, kneeling on either side of my hips and planting his hands beside my head. Staring down into my eyes, he says, “Or maybe I will. I haven’t decided yet.”
Before I can sling a few voodoo curses at him, he lowers his head and sucks my nipple through the nightie, making me arch and gasp.
“Mmm. Lace.” He tugs at the fabric with his teeth, scraping it across my nipple, making me gasp again. Then he pushes the nightie down, fills his hands with my breasts, and goes back and forth between them, nibbling and sucking until I can barely draw a breath.
“So pink and hard,” he whispers, softly kissing around one aching nipple. “Wet from my tongue. Where else are you pink and wet, bella?”
God please find out please find out and hurry up about it. I don’t dare speak, because I’m afraid it will break the spell, and he’ll go back to being angry and giving me space.
The last thing in the world I want from him at this moment is space.
He slides his big hands down my ribs until they span my waist. He squeezes, his eyes dark, his grip just this side of hard. I can tell he’s controlling himself, he’s working hard to go slow, and it thrills me to know he’s as excited as I am.
He follows the curve of my hips down to my thighs, then slowly pushes up the hem of my nightie.
“No panties,” he breathes, staring down at me with avid eyes. He slips a thumb into my wetness and strokes it up and down as I moan and rock my hips, my nipples tingling.
Looking at me spread open, his fingers between my legs, he grips his erection in his other hand and squeezes it through his trousers.
Wowzers. I almost faint from desire.
He draws his zipper down and pulls his hard cock out of his boxer briefs, fisting it at the base. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, watching me with hooded eyes as I flex my hips in time to the movement of his thumb. “God, you turn me on.”
“Right back atcha, hot stuff. I need to touch you.”
I strain against the belt, tugging my wrists, but he’s got me tightly bound. Why that should be so hot, I don’t know, but I can’t remember ever feeling this wound up. The air against my skin is excruciating. The sheets under my body are a bed of hot coals.
His hands work both of us until I’m panting and sweating, about to break. “Please. Oh God, please.”
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
“Please make me come.”
“How? Mouth or cock?”
I let out a low guttural moan, rolling my head on the pillow, and he chuckles.
“Certo. Both.”
He lowers his head between my thighs and replaces his thumb with his tongue.
I suck in a breath through my teeth, exhaling hard when he slides a finger inside me. “Ohh . . .”
He grunts into me. It’s dirty and hot, and I love it. I love it so much I open my legs wider and rock my hips against his tongue, moaning like a porn star when he reaches up to tweak my hard nipple.
Leather cuts into my wrists. Matteo’s rough cheeks scrape against my bare thighs. I’m trembling and panting and desperate for him, for him to fill me, fuck me, tell me how he feels about me as he spills himself inside my body and claims me for his own.
I arch hard against the bed, pulling at my restraints, the ache between my legs gathering into burning hot pins and needles. Almost—almost—
As I’m about to go over the edge, his mouth vanishes. Then he slaps me lightly between my legs where his tongue just was, right on my throbbing clit.
I come, screaming.
He grips one of my knees and opens my legs wider, and slaps me again. And again.
I cry out, the pleasure so intense it’s almost pain.
He speaks to me in Italian as I writhe, his tone low and urgent, the words spilling out in a rush that becomes a musical hum in my ears. I’m helpless, lost, jerking and wailing, begging him not to stop in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.
“Beautiful. Beautiful,” he whispers raggedly, and slaps me again.
When the last convulsion passes and I’m drenched and limp on the sheets, every part of me aching, I burst into tears.
“Sweetheart, oh sweetheart, oh God, did I hurt you? What’s the matter?”
Matteo is frantic, ripping the belt off my wrists and gathering me into his arms. I sob against his chest, clinging to him, until I catch my breath and my tears slow.
He takes my face in his hands. “I’m so sorry! I thought you liked it, I thought it felt good for you, I should have asked—”
“Don’t be sorry. That was the most incredible orgasm of my life.”
He stills. His eyes search my face. “Really?”
I nod, sniffling. “Yes, really. I think I saw God.”
He exhales in relief, squeezing me so hard I think he might snap me in half. “Jesus.”
“Him too. There might have also been cherubs.”
Matteo starts to laugh, softly at first, then louder. “What am I going to do with you?”
“More of the same, please.”
He takes us back down to the bed and kisses me with so much tenderness it leaves me shaking. He dries my face with his fingertips and his lips, kissing away the tears, murmuring such sweet things I feel like my heart could break from hearing them. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders and tell him to take off the rest of his clothes.
“Oh.” He goes still again.
“I didn’t bring a condom.”
I understand by the look on his face why not. “Like when a woman doesn’t shave her legs before a date so she won’t be tempted to have sex.”
“Exactly.”
I take a breath for courage and say, “I’m clean. I was just tested. So . . .”
His lids droop a little, and his voice drops. “So . . . bare is what you’re saying.”
I bite my lip, nodding. “As long as you’re clean, too.”
“I am,” he answers instantly. “I have the papers at the house if you want me to go get them.”
I give him a look that says, Shut the hell up.
He grins. “Okay. Now that that’s out of the way.” He jumps up, stands on the side of the bed, and strips.
When he’s finished and is standing there naked in all his glory, I slowly shake my head in awe. “Wow. Just . . . wow.”
“Thank you. I think.”
“Get your ass in this bed this instant.”
He’s a good boy and obeys without batting a lash, jumping on top of me with a fake animal growl and tickling me until I shriek. Then he slides inside me and the shrieking stops, replaced by deep groans.
Into my ear he says huskily, “You’re soaked.”
“Your fault.” I gasp as he thrusts, driving deeper. “Oh God, this is all your fault if you stop I will kill you.”
“And so hot,” he whispers, thrusting again. “You feel so amazing. You feel like heaven, bella, fucking heaven.”
I open my thighs and take him deeper, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. When my nails scratch his scalp, things turn intense. He bites my neck. I bite his shoulder. His fingers dig into my ass. Mine dig into his back. He starts to fuck me, hard, grunting and hissing out such wonderfully filthy things it makes my cheeks burn.
I love it. I love it all. Every dirty word. Every possessive bite. Every single pinch, stroke, and groan he gives me.
When he shudders, making a soft agonized noise, I know he’s close. Close and holding back so I can get there first.
But I want to get there together.
Into his ear I whisper, “I have an IUD. Come inside me.”
“God,” he says, his voice strangled. “Could you be any more perfect?”
Then I can’t think anymore because I’m riding a cresting wave, higher and higher, up into the bright endless blue of the sky. The roar of the wind blocks my ears. The sun burns my face, the smell of his skin sears my nose, and I’m flying.
The wave breaks over me. The roar of the wind becomes the sound of my name as he throws back his head and shouts it, his body tight and straining, surging against mine.
I fall and fall and fall, tumbling, twisting, turning, letting go of my last shred of resistance when he spills himself inside me and cries out something in his language that sounds like a prayer.