Page 220 of My Italian Love Affair

His mouth maps a slow, torturous path down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He pauses at the base of my throat, pressing his lips to the erratic pulse there.

And when he chuckles softly at the way my breath hitches, I want to throttle him.

"You're enjoying this," I grumble.

"Of course." His voice is low and gravelly. "You're beautiful like this,cara. So desperate for me."

"I'm notdesperate," I lie, even as I arch into the firm press of his hands.

He lifts his head, eyes glinting with amusement.

"No?"

"No.”

His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I bite back a groan.

"Liar," he murmurs, ducking his head to capture the sensitive peak in his mouth.

His tongue flicks, sucks, teases until I’m squirming beneathhim, torn between wanting to push him away and pull him closer.

My fingers tangle in his dark hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as he lavishes attention on my body. He moves with maddening precision - every kiss, every touch delivered with the control of a man who knowsexactlywhat he’s doing.

It should be infuriating.

Instead, it’s just devastatingly effective.

His mouth trails lower, pausing at the curve of my hip. His stubble rasps against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine.

"Matteo," I breathe.

He glances up at me, lips curving into a wicked smile.

"Yes,bella?"

"This… this istorture."

"Good." His voice turns darker, rougher. "I want you to remember this. How it feels when I touch you. How it feels when I make you fall apart."

"You're so full of yourself," I manage.

He nips at the inside of my thigh, making me yelp.

"And you're full of attitude."

His hand slides up to my hip, gripping it firmly.

"But I like it. Makes it more fun when I break you."

Before I can respond, his mouth moves between my legs, and my thoughts dissolve into pure sensation.

*

By the time Matteo finally collapses beside me, my body is utterly spent.

My skin glows with warmth, my muscles hum with exhaustion, and my heart races from the aftershocks of pleasure that still linger beneath the surface.

"Bloodyhell," I whisper, flinging an arm across my face. "You're relentless."

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