Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
I swallow hard, my heart hammering.
"Maybe."
Matteo’s grin is slow and wicked.
"Then let’s see how well you handle losing."
His lips crash against mine, all heat and urgency, but there’s something else beneath it - something teasing, smug.
It’s infuriating.
Because Matteo Rossi is enjoying this far too much.
I can feel it in the way he presses me into the couch, his body solid and warm over mine. In the way his large, hot hands roam painfully slowly up my thighs, pushing my dress higher, higher - but not quite high enough.
In the way he pulls back just as I start to lose myself, smirking down at me like he’s won some kind of battle.
I blink up at him, dazed.
"Seriously?"
"What?" he grins.
I scowl.
"You hesitate now? Really?"
Matteo chuckles, dragging the tip of his nose down the length of my throat.
"I just like watching you squirm, cara."
"You are so annoying," I mutter.
"I prefer devastatingly charming.”
I glare at him, but the effect is probably ruined by the way my breath hitches as his lips graze my collarbone.
"Fine," I say, shifting beneath him just enough to brush against the growing hardness pressing against my thigh. His muscles tense. "Two can play that game, Rossi."
His grip on me tightens.
"Daphne -"
"What?” I bite back a smirk as I blink up at him. “I’m just getting comfortable."
His jaw clenches, and it’s so deeply satisfying to see him struggle for control that I nearly cackle.
Nearly.
Because then Matteo decides he’s had enough of my antics.
With a low growl, he lifts me with ridiculous ease, settling me firmly back onto his lap so I’m straddling him once again. His hands grip my hips, keeping me still.
"That’s cute," he murmurs, tilting his head. "You think you’re in control here."
I lean in, letting my lips brush against his, just enough to tease.
"I know I’m in control."
Matteo hums, amusement flickering in his gaze.
"Is that so?"
"Mmhm."
With absolutely no warning whatsoever, he rolls his hips up against me, and I swear that my brain literally short-circuits.
"Oh," I breathe, hands fisting in his shirt.
"You were saying…?"
I clear my throat, gathering what little dignity I have left.
"Nothing."
Matteo’s gaze darkens.
"Liar."
I open my mouth to protest, but the words never come, because he chooses that moment to kiss me again, deep and slow and thorough, his hands splaying against my back as he presses me closer.
And then, just to be extra annoying, he pulls back again.
I blink at him, breathless.
"You absolute -"
"Say it."
I huff, tugging at his shirt in frustration.
"Matteo."
His lips twitch. "Not quite what I was looking for."
"Matteo."
I drag his name out this time, frustration bleeding into something desperate, and that seems to be what he wanted.
His smirk fades into something darker - something starved - and I gasp as his hands grip tightly to my hips.
"That’s better," he murmurs.
His mouth crashes onto mine, then; all heat and frustration and barely restrained hunger, and fuck, do I love this side of him.
The Matteo who doesn’t have a smartass comment.
The Matteo who forgets how to be cocky because he’s too distracted by me.
He grinds his hips as he kisses me, and I swear it’s like he’s trying to ruin me for anyone else, like he knows exactly what he’s doing -
And what’s worse, it’s like he knows what I want before I even realise it myself.
I might not hate him in the way I once did, but I do hate that he’s so fucking good at this
My fingers slide into his thick, dark hair, tugging lightly as he groans into my mouth. I do it again just to hear that sound, just to make him come undone a little bit more for me.
But then Matteo finally pulls back, his breathing ragged as his forehead comes to rest against my own. His hands skim down my thighs, gripping them as he lifts me with an almost unnatural ease and begins to carry me across the room like I weigh nothing at all.
I squeal, my arms wrapping around his neck while my legs cling to either side of his waist.
“Matteo!” I exclaim as I cross my ankles together behind his back, though the laughter in my voice gives away my true amusement.
He grins smugly.
“Problem, cara?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice tight as my pulse hammers against my ribs. “You could’ve warned me before throwing me around like -”
"Like a what?" he interrupts. "Like a princess? A queen?"
I scoff, tilting my chin.
"I was going to say ‘sack of potatoes’, actually."
I feel his laughter vibrate through me, deep and warm, and before I can stop myself, I’m laughing too.
And that’s the problem, isn’t it?
That this isn’t just heat. It’s not just sharp words and frustration and the kind of chemistry that makes me feel like I’m burning from the inside out.
It’s this, too.
Him making me laugh, effortlessly.
Him looking at me like I’m the only person in the world who matters.