Page 171 of My Italian Love Affair

“You sound so good when you say my name like that,” he mutters, his breath hot against my skin. “Told you you liked me.”

“Don’t. Get. Cocky,” I manage through gritted teeth, even as my legs tremble.

He chuckles darkly.

“Too late.”

And then his hand moves from my jaw to my throat, his fingers applying just enough pressure to make my pulse race even faster as his lips brush against my ear.

“You’re mine, Daphne,” he tells me. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasp, the word slipping out with more truth than I want to admit.

“Mine,” he repeats, grinning wickedly as he bends lower at the knees while pounding into me at a relentless pace. “Fuck, Daphne; you’remine.”

He uses his grip on my hair to guide me back impossibly further. I follow his lead with ease, my body arching, the change in angle causing the pair of us to gasp into the night.

I can’t take it anymore - can’t do anything other than squeezemy eyes to a close as heat begins to course through my body from head-to-toe. My walls tighten around his thick, hard length, and I feel myself beginning to lose all control as my thighs tremble.

The world shatters around me as he thrusts into me one last time, his name ripping from my throat as pleasure overtakes every inch of my body. Matteo continues thrusting wildly as I ride out the waves of my orgasm, my body tensing and growing rigid beneath his hands.

His hips begin to stutter and his rhythm falters, and after a few more rough, hurried thrusts of his hips, he follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his arms locking around me as if he's afraid I'll disappear.

We collapse into the mattress, bodies tangled, breaths erratic.

And just as I expect him to shift away, Matteo rolls onto his back, pulling me with him.

My body stiffens slightly in surprise.

Thishas never happened before.

At the gala, I had barely caught my breath after our tryst before hurrying out of the bathroom stall to compose myself. And in the stadium’s changing room, there wasn’t exactly room for anything other than the raw, heated desperation between us.

But now, here in his bed, with the warmth of his skin against mine, this feels…different.

More intimate.

More like something I shouldn’t analyse too closely.

I hesitate for a second, but Matteo doesn’t let me linger in my thoughts. His muscular arm tightens around my waist,guiding me closer until my head rests in the crook of his neck. His free hand trails slowly up and down my back, his fingertips barely grazing my skin with a touch that is both soothing and possessive.

I place a tentative hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His heartbeat thrums beneath my palm, solid and sure.

“Relax,bella,” he murmurs, voice husky but softer now.

He presses a lazy kiss to my temple, his fingers drifting into my hair, threading through it in slow, absent strokes.

“You’re thinking too much.”

Maybe I am.

Maybe I should pull away before this moment turns into something it shouldn't.

But with his warmth surrounding me, his touch keeping me anchored, I decide to let myself enjoy it - just this once.

I close my eyes, melting into him as he continues to touch me, his fingers never still, mapping out my skin as if he needs the reassurance that I’m here.

That I’mhis.

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