Page 9 of Ruthless Match

Instead, I felt numb, detached from the beauty surrounding me. How did I end up here, and why did I allow it to happen? In what alternate universe did I become Matteo Santoro’s, mafia king of New York, wife? It was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from, a cruel twist of fate that had me again playing into my father's hands, all for the sake of business.

Realizing I’d been gone awhile, I turned to make my way back to the villa. That’s when I saw him. Matteo was walking toward me with a look of determination and concern if I didn’t know better. Seeing the way his linen shirt clung to his muscular arms made me shiver, reminding me of the blinding kisses we had shared. I had only ever seen him in suits, so seeing him dressed so casually was unnerving. Especially, since I could see his arms and chest were covered with beautiful, intricate tattoos.

Against my will, my mind began wondering what it would feel like to trace every one of them with my fingers and tongue. Snap out of it, Aurora! Since when do you even like tattoos?

Since I saw them on my sexy asshole of a husband, that’s when.

When he reached me, he looked me over to assess that I was okay and grabbed my hand with determination. “Aurora, we need to talk.”

Not wanting to ruin my memory of the beach in the twilight setting or the way he looked walking toward me, I pulled away. “Matteo, there is nothing to discuss. I have nothing more to say to you that hasn’t already been said.”

Matteo’s expression softened as he tried to hide the hurt in his eyes. “Please, Aurora. This may not be ideal for either of us, but we can’t begin our marriage like this. I know we got off to a bad start, and things have not been easy, but we are married now. We have to find a way to get along.”

I scoffed at the suggestion. Get along? Who the hell does he think he’s fooling?

I could taste the bile forming in my throat as I glared at him. “Get along? Don’t you mean to find a way to control me and make me act the part of a loving and dutiful wife? I’m sorry Matteo, but I can’t pretend that easy. Not when I was forced into a loveless sham of a marriage. I need more, Matteo. I need love and passion, all of which you cannot provide.”

Frustrated, he ran his hand through his jet-black hair. “I am aware of our situation, Aurora, but we owe it to ourselves to try and get along.”

Not wanting to stand there and listen to him for another minute, I began walking to the villa. I knew he would follow but I didn’t care. I needed to get away from him, away from his domineering personality, and away from the stunning gray eyes that threatened to pull me in like a tidal wave.

I thought he wasn’t far behind me, and as we walked into our villa, I noticed that the air was thick with tension. Matteo continued to try to engage me in conversation, but all I could muster were grunts and one-word answers. I was curt and dismissive, the same way he and my father had been regarding my feelings about this marriage.

I walked to the far corner of the room in hopes of gaining some personal space, but Matteo had other plans. I could feel his breath on my neck as he swept my hair to the side and gently kissed my shoulder gently.

Quickly, I turned around, but as soon as I did, he pinned me against the wall. “Matteo, what are you doing?” I asked more breathlessly than I intended.

“I’m going to kiss you, my dear, until you finally respond in more than grunts and one-word syllables.”

“Let me go, Matteo,” I demanded, but even I knew my voice betrayed me.

“Not until you talk to me.” His kisses moved from the nape of my neck to my ear, and it was all I could do not to beg him to take me.

For a moment, we stood locked in a silent battle of wills, the air between us electric. My defenses were crumbling, but I couldn’t let him see that.

“If it will get you to stop, I’ll talk. What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Tell me anything. I want to know who Aurora is.”

Did he really say he wants to know who I am? Isn’t he supposed to care only about what being married to Dominic DeSantis’s daughter can do for him?

I hesitated, uncertain how to answer. Reluctantly, I began to speak. My life story began to pour out of me like an overflowing vase. Maybe it was because I was so close to Matteo, or maybe because I desperately needed to get away from him.

I told him everything there was to know: my childhood dreams and fears, the pressures of growing up in my father’s shadow, how I always secretly knew he wanted a son, and the fallout that occurred when I chose Yale over his alma mater, Harvard. Before I knew it, I told him of my longing to be free from the confines of my parent's expectations but struggling with my desire to take over the hotel business. I shared my doubts about ever finding true happiness in a world that seemed to be ruled by duty and obligation.

As I spoke, Matteo listened intently, and I was drawn to him in ways I couldn’t explain. When I finally finished speaking, and my confessions faded into the silence, Matteo’s lips once again brushed against my neck. My body tensed in his arms, and my breath hitched, but Matteo refused to let me go.

Without speaking, his kisses were asking me to open myself to him. To let him in. But I couldn’t; it was too dangerous. I couldn’t risk falling for a man that cared nothing about me. That isn’t how it was supposed to be. It isn’t what I wanted for my life.

For a moment, we stood locked in a silent embrace as the world around us stood still. Maybe it was the intimacy of the moment, or maybe it was because my body was screaming for his touch, but I felt my body begin to relax as it gave in to the heat of passion.

Quit overthinking and let yourself enjoy the moment. Matteo may be an asshole, but he’s a hot asshole. So, go with the flow.

As Matteo continued to kiss my neck, his hand found its way beneath my dress. Instinctively, I moaned in pleasure, and Matteo knew he had broken through my defenses. Slowly, his fingers traced the contours of my inner thigh before sliding inside my lace panties. I shivered as he used his thumb to trace circles across my swollen bud.

I know I should stop him, but damn, this feels good, so I took my own advice and enjoyed it.

Encouraged by my moans, he slid two fingers across my soaking-wet slit before inserting them inside me. Groaning into my ear, he grunted, “You feel so good, Aurora. So ready for me.”

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