Page 79 of Mafia King of Lies

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because for the first time, I don’t think Matteo is just saying something to manipulate, to control, to assert power. For the first time, I think he means it. I don’t just hear the words—I feel them.

His words linger between us, thick with something I can’t quite name.

“I don’t care how many times you need reassurance I will be right in front of you telling you, that I am here and this is real. I will tell you every morning, noon, and night if I have to.” His words are coated in conviction and truth. “You are my world, Maria. And there is no me without you, not now or ever. Okay?”

My mind is a frenzy of emotion and chaos. I don’t have the right words to say so I simply nod.

“Good.” His body eases and the tension releases from his body.

The rest of dinner passes in a quiet, unexpected calm. Matteo doesn’t push for conversation, and for once, I don’t feel the need to fill the silence.

When I finally set my fork down, I realized just how much I needed this. Not just the food, but this moment. The warmth of a meal shared, the steady presence of this man.

Matteo watches me carefully as if trying to read my thoughts. “You should rest,” he says, voice softer than usual.

I nod, but something in his gaze keeps me locked in place. The candlelight casts sharp shadows across his face. There is a tinge in his pupils, a flicker of heat that simmers just below the surface.

My fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the table. The electricity in the air crackles to life, and that subtle hum that passes between us whenever we collide smashes into us.

I don’t know what comes over me then, whether it’s exhaustion, the warmth of the evening, or the sudden pull between us, but before I can think better of it, I stand from my seat and walk toward him.

Matteo watches me carefully, his expression unreadable, his body as still as stone. The heat in his eyes begins to boil, and the gentle charge in the air intensifies.

“What are you doing, cara?” He looks up at me as I come to a halt by his chair. I stare down at him, trying to make sense of my own intentions.

“Fuck it.” I don’t give myself a chance to second-guess—I just move.

I lean down, brushing my lips against his in a kiss that starts soft but deepens quickly. Matteo doesn’t hesitate. He responds instantly, his hand coming up to cradle the back of my neck, pulling down toward him. He pushes back to give me the room to settle in his seat.

The kiss is slow, sensual—an unspoken promise, a confession in the language of touch. I taste the heat of him, the hunger, the depth of everything he feels but doesn’t say. Fuck, it’s good. Our tongues move together in an intricate dance that only they understand. It’s this gentle push and pull of the tides that leaves my heart pounding ferociously in my chest.

When we finally break apart, my pulse is racing, my breath uneven.

“Take me to bed, Matteo,” I whisper.

24

MATTEO

Itake her into my arms, her body molding against mine like she is made for me. Her lips trail along my neck, slow and warm, then nip at my pulse point. A full-body shiver ripples through me.

Fuck. She’s sin and salvation wrapped in skin. My kryptonite.

I carry her up the stairs, her mouth still working the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. When she sucks harder, a harsh exhale leaves my lips. Blood surges straight to my cock, and it’s already throbbing behind my zipper.

“Maria,” I warn, voice rough with restraint. “You’re playing with fire, amore.”

“Shh.” Her breath ghosts over my throat. “Then let me burn.”

She bites down, and I stumble slightly. Jesus. I tighten my grip on her thighs, then pick up speed, slamming the bedroom door behind us.

“My turn,” I growl, tossing her onto the bed. She lands with a squeal, and before she can blink, I’m over her. I crash my lips into hers, devouring her mouth like I’ve been starving.

She moans into me, and I drink every sound like it’s my last breath.

We kiss like we’ve done it a thousand times in dreams—tongues tangling, teeth scraping, a dance of hunger and heat. Her hips roll against mine, rubbing her soft core over my hard length. The friction damn near ends me.

I break the kiss, panting, my forehead pressed to hers, staring into her hunger-ridden eyes. The air between us is thick with sex. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging gently at the small strands at the nape of my neck.

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