Page 97 of My Italian Love Affair

I let out a shaky laugh, my fingers still gripping loosely to his shoulders.

“Yeah,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “Tell me about it.”

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his dark eyes still clouded with heat.

Slowly, a smug grin tugs at his lips.

“Think you’ll still be able to handle yourself,giornalista?”

I narrow my eyes at him, though I know it lacks any real bite.

“Shut up, Rossi.”

His laughter vibrates against my skin as he presses one last, lingering kiss to my lips before finally -finally- pulling away.

Matteo’s hands still rest lightly on my hips as his gaze lingers on my face.

The smug, satisfied expression he’s wearing makes me want to slap him - or kiss him again.

Maybe both.

I swallow hard, and as the waves of my orgasm begin to ease, I suddenly feel very much hyperaware of where we are and what just happened.

I just had sex with Matteo Rossi.

In the bathroom of a charity gala.

Holy shit.

My skin prickles with the creeping, horrifying weight of reality.

Matteo, seemingly unphased, reaches for a stack of paper towels from the dispenser, pulling out a few before glancing at me. His expression shifts slightly, and I wonder whether he can somehow sense my spiraling.

My cheeks burn as he lowers his knees, his movements unnervingly gentle as he leans over my waist and dampens the paper towels with some warm water from the sink before he cleans me up.

Oh my god.

I stare at the ceiling, at the gilded trim along the mirror -

Anywhere but at him.

“Stop looking so horrified,” Matteo mutters.

His voice is teasing but low, still rough with lingering desire.

“I’m not going to bite you.”

I huff out a breath, still refusing to look at him.

“That’s debatable.”

He lets out a low chuckle but doesn’t comment any further.

Once he’s finished, he straightens up, hands slipping under my arms to help me off the counter.

I wobble slightly as my heels hit the floor, my legs unsteady. I reach down hastily and yank my panties back into place, discreetly adjusting my dress while trying to regain some sense of control over myself.

But it’s impossible.

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