Page 437 of Rosetti Family New York
"I'm done pretending I don't." I step into his room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. "I drove here at three in the morning in my pajamas because I couldn't wait another second to tell you."
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes stay serious. "Isabella."
"I choose you." I move closer, drawn by the heat in his gaze. "I choose this. I choose us. I'm tired of being afraid of what I want."
He stands slowly, moving like I'm something fragile that might bolt if he moves too fast. The lamplight turns his skin to gold, emphasizes every line of muscle across his chest and abs. He's beautiful and dangerous and mine.
"Are you sure?" His voice is careful, controlled. "Because once you say it again, once we cross this line completely—"
"I'm yours." I close the distance between us, my hands settling on his chest. His skin is warm, solid, real beneath my palms. "I've been yours since that first night. I was just too stubborn to admit it."
The vulnerability of the confession hits me suddenly. Here I am, half-dressed in his bedroom, my heart completely exposed. The old me would have run. Would have found some way to take the words back, to protect herself.
But his hands frame my face like I'm something precious, and I see nothing but reverence in his eyes.
His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking across my cheekbones. "Say it again."
"I love you." The words come easier now, like something unlocked inside my chest. "I love your patience. I love yourviolence. I love the way you make me feel safe and wild at the same time."
Something breaks in his expression. Relief. Want. Possession. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back as he leans down.
"Christ, Isabella. I've been going insane waiting for you to come back to me."
"Well, I'm here now." I press closer, feeling him harden against my hip. "What are you going to do about it?"
The question transforms him. The careful, patient man disappears, replaced by the predator I first glimpsed in his car. His mouth crashes against mine, hot and demanding and completely unrestrained. The kiss tastes like possession and promise and finally coming home.
I arch against him, my body singing with relief and want and the pure joy of not having to hold back anymore. His hands move down my body, fingers tracing the hem of his shirt where it hits my thighs.
"This fucking shirt," he growls against my lips. "Do you know what it does to me, seeing you in my clothes?"
"Show me." The words are breathless with need.
His hands fist in the white cotton, and for a moment I think he's going to tear it off me. Instead, he starts working the buttons with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I've been dreaming about this," he murmurs, parting the fabric to reveal my skin. "About having you in my bed, completely mine, no walls between us."
The shirt falls away, leaving me in just sleep shorts and lace panties. His gaze moves over me like a physical touch, hungry and reverent.
"Beautiful," he breathes, hands skimming up my sides. "So fucking beautiful."
I reach for the drawstring of his pants, but he catches my hands, bringing them to his lips to press kisses to my palms.
"Not yet," he says, voice rough with restraint. "I want to taste you first. Want to make you come on my tongue before I fuck you."
The crude words send heat straight to my core. "Matteo."
"Get on the bed," he commands, and the authority in his voice makes me shiver. "Lose the shorts."
I back toward his bed, hooking my thumbs in the waistband and sliding them down my legs. His eyes track every movement, dark with hunger. When I settle on the black silk sheets wearing nothing but lace panties, he makes a sound low in his throat.
"Spread your legs for me, bella."
I obey, shameless in my need. He moves between my thighs like a man worshipping at an altar, hands sliding up my legs with reverent touch.
"These panties," he murmurs, tracing the lace edge with one finger. "Did you wear them for me?"
"Yes." The admission comes out breathless. "Everything I do is for you now."
