Page 165 of My Italian Love Affair

"Nothing."

Matteo’s gaze darkens.

"Liar."

I open my mouth to protest, but the words never come, because he choosesthatmoment to kiss me again, deep and slow and thorough, his hands splaying against my back as he presses me closer.

And then, just to be extra annoying, he pulls back again.

I blink at him, breathless.

"You absolute-"

"Say it."

I huff, tugging at his shirt in frustration.

"Matteo."

His lips twitch. "Not quite what I was looking for."

"Matteo."

I drag his name out this time, frustration bleeding into something desperate, and that seems to be what he wanted.

His smirk fades into something darker - somethingstarved- and I gasp as his hands grip tightly to my hips.

"That’s better," he murmurs.

His mouth crashes onto mine, then; all heat and frustration and barely restrained hunger, andfuck, do I love this side of him.

The Matteo who doesn’t have a smartass comment.

The Matteo who forgets how to be cocky because he’s too distracted byme.

He grinds his hips as he kisses me, and I swear it’s like he’strying to ruin me for anyone else, like he knows exactly what he’s doing -

And what’s worse, it’s like he knows what I want before I even realise it myself.

I might not hate him in the way I once did, but Idohate that he’s so fucking good at this

My fingers slide into his thick, dark hair, tugging lightly as he groans into my mouth. I do it again just to hear that sound, just to make him come undone a little bit more for me.

But then Matteo finally pulls back, his breathing ragged as his forehead comes to rest against my own. His hands skim down my thighs, gripping them as he lifts me with an almost unnatural ease and begins to carry me across the room like I weigh nothing at all.

I squeal, my arms wrapping around his neck while my legs cling to either side of his waist.

“Matteo!” I exclaim as I cross my ankles together behind his back, though the laughter in my voice gives away my true amusement.

He grins smugly.

“Problem,cara?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice tight as my pulse hammers against my ribs. “You could’ve warned me before throwing me around like -”

"Like a what?" he interrupts. "Like a princess? Aqueen?"

I scoff, tilting my chin.

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