Page 128 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
KIMBER
I come awake slowly, feeling hot and thirsty. There’s heat at my back, and a weight over my waist, and my first thought is that Cornelia’s in bed spooning me again.
Then I remember Cornelia’s in Milan with the marchesa, and open my eyes.
The weight around my waist turns out to be an arm. A human arm. Judging by the muscles and overall size, it belongs to a male.
“You snore,” says a husky voice behind me.
I’m swamped with sweet relief. He came! “No, I don’t.”
“Like this.” Matteo breathes heavily in and out, mimicking Darth Vader.
“You’re lying! I do not!”
When I hear him chuckle, I want to elbow him, but then I get a kiss on my bare shoulder and melt instead.
“I’ll record it next time.”
I roll over onto my other side and snuggle into his chest. He’s fully dressed, including socks, which I discover when I slip my feet between his.
“You’re under the covers with me.”
“I am.”
“And you have all your clothes on.”
“You have a gift for stating the obvious.”
If I didn’t hear the affection in his tone, I’d slug him, but his voice is so sleepy and warm I sigh with contentment instead and snuggle in deeper. With my eyes closed, I whisper, “I didn’t die from alcohol poisoning. Wanna know why?”
His chest rises and falls with his heavy exhalation.
“Because you came and saved me.”
“You’re deeply strange.”
“C’mon. Play.”
Another exhalation, accompanied by a kiss pressed to the top of my head. Despite the pain behind my eyeballs, I’m so content I could float right out of bed.
He says, “Yes. I rode in on my stallion and saved you from a wine overdose. I’m a true hero. I deserve a parade.”
“At least a plaque,” I say, nodding. “Or a commemorative mug.”
“I’m angry with you,” he says, and really sounds like he means it.
My heart starts to pound. “Because of what happened with Dominic?”
“Because this is the second time I’ve been awake all night worried about you choking to death on your own vomit.”
I wrinkle my nose at the visual. “Ew.”
“Precisely. Do we need to talk about this?”
I stick my face into the space between his shoulder and neck and suck in a lungful of his scent. “Before I met you, I’d only had one other hangover in my life. It was the first and last time I drank gin. I was sixteen.”
“So you’re telling me it’s not a habit.”
