Donatello stepped out the front door. "Mr. Bellandi. Ms.Torres. Welcome home."
I resisted the urge to point out that it wasn't my home. That it never would be, and Matteo spared me from having to respond when he answered. "We're not to be disturbed. When Simon or Scar return with her things, put them in my office please."
“Certainly,” Donatello nodded, watching with wide eyes as Matteo took my hand and pulled me into the house. We traipsed over the tile floors, and he pulled me up the winding stairs. I had to fight not to trip, my dress too long and my boots not prepared for the speed with which Matteo took the stairs. He didn't let me take in the landing at the top of the stairs, just turned down one of two hallways and led me all the way to the end.
The master bedroom was a very different style than the rest of the house. Modern, clean lines done in a combination of dark grey and tan, I had to wonder what prompted the difference between that room and the rest of the house.
"I never bothered remodeling the rest of the house," he answered my silent question. "But this room I did as soon as I moved back in after my father died."
"It's lovely." I shifted awkwardly, doing my best not to glance at the massive platform bed on the back wall.
"Get ready for bed." He jerked his head to a door to the bathroom behind me. I took it as my reprieve, retreating into the space and locking the door behind me. It was a continuation from the bedroom, white and grey marble with tan elements through the space. A huge deep soak tub, and a massive shower made for orgies dominated the space, but a massive two sink vanity caught my eye. I stepped in front of the mirror, trying not to think about how many women Matteo had caught in his web in that bathroom. I washed the makeup off my face, attempting to calm my raging heart and convince my eyeballs to remain in my skull, given they looked wide enough they might bolt at any moment.
I could do it. I had slept in a bed with Matteo the night before, unknowingly, but I'd survived. The next morning he'd take me home, and I'd get the fuck out of dodge. It was only one night. I stripped off my socks and shoes, stacking them in the corner.
A brand-new toothbrush in its packaging sat on the counter, and I used it all while wanting to keep my bad breath to spite him. When I went back to the bedroom, after hyperventilating for a few moments, Matteo stood next to the bed. His back was to me, and he stared out the window sipping a scotch. His suit was draped over one of the armchairs in the room, all his beautiful olive skin on display and only his ass covered by his skintight boxer briefs.
He turned, setting his tumbler on a coaster on the little table in the seating area. I took a step back as he prowled toward me, flinching when he only reached out a hand to clasp a strand of my hair. "You expect me to believe you sleep in your dress?"
"I don't have any clothes." I swallowed.
"That's because you won't be needing them until morning," he murmured, pressing his lips to mine briefly. "Take off your dress."
"No. I don't want this, Teo. I don't want you—"
"Ah, Cara mia, you always were a terrible liar," he chuckled.
"I'm not lying! This isn't—" I broke off, gasping when he leaned forward and pressed his lips behind my ear. His breath tortured my skin, making me shudder. "You're bad for me."
"Yes," he agreed. "But you're mine, regardless." His hands grasped the fabric of my dress, bunching it until it was a mound around my hips.
"Teo, stop," I whispered but the vehemence, the fear had gone. Nothing remained but anticipation. Because no one had ever made me feel the way Matteo had the night, he took my virginity.
No one had ever worshiped me the way he had.
"Tell me you aren't wet for me," he whispered, teasing my neck with the slightest scrape of his teeth against my weak spot. Even after all these years, he remembered exactly where to touch, where to kiss, where to bite to drive me wild. Even though I'd only had him inside me once, that didn't mean we hadn't done everything else over that year we spent together. "Come on, Angel. Lie to me again."
I didn't speak, didn't think I could put the words together to tell him I wasn't. And he was right, it would have been a lie, anyway. When his fingers brushed against me, I was ashamed of how shockingly wet the gusset of my panties was as it pressed into my skin. Matteo groaned, the sound vibrating against my neck until he pulled back to press his forehead to mine as those skilled fingers toyed with me through the thin barrier of my underwear. "It means nothing," I whispered, closing my eyes to shut out the intimacy of his stare.
"You want me to believe that any of the other assholes you've let touch you ever got you this wet when they've barely touched you? Your body knows me, just like mine knows you," he whispered, removing his hand in favor of pressing his torso to mine so I could feel the steel length of his erection.
"It means nothing," I repeated on a sigh.
"It means everything, Angel," he said, voice soft, nearly reverent as he tugged the dress up and over my head. I wanted to fight him, wanted to keep my arms firmly pressed to my side, but nothing worked. My body had always been putty in his hands.
Nothing had changed.
Big calloused hands stroked down my sides, a tremble in them as they graced over my hips and grabbed my ass. He lifted me, staring up at me with eyes full of emotion I suspected reflected in mine.
My eyes burned with the threat of tears. Because even with all we'd changed—even after he'd hurt me—after twelve years of just existing, Matteo was the only thing that could make me feel.
I loved him. Exactly as he was, no matter what he might have done or become. Matteo would always be the one who owned my heart, and that was exactly why I needed to stop. I needed to get his hands off of me. But somehow, as he carried me to his massive bed, my legs wound around his waist with a mind of their own. As conflicted as my mind might have been, my body had no such qualms as it quivered at the slightest stroke of his thumb against me.
He dropped me to the bed, and I bounced on my back only once before Matteo was sliding between my spread legs and leaning over me. His lips found mine, coaxing me to open for him when he traced my lips with his tongue.
He swallowed my whimper when I opened for him, pressing into me and tangling his tongue with mine. I'd expected him to be savage when he got his way, to take what he wanted, but he was the same as he'd been in high school when he finally got me in bed. He went slowly, taking his time, building my need through nothing but the feel of his skin against mine. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the tightly corded muscles jump beneath my hands. When I curled my hands around his neck, twirling my fingers into the spot where his hair met the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, only then did he deepen the kiss beyond his initial exploration. Our mouths fused together, and I arched my back when his hand slid up my spine to find the clasp of my bra. He pulled away from me just enough to rip it off me, before he was back where he belonged, nibbling at my bottom lip. He smiled at me, cupping one breast in his hand until I arched further, pressing my flesh into his hand in a silent plea. He kissed the front of my throat, slowly kissing his way down until he hit my collarbone. Pulling back, he stared down at me for only a moment, and I watched those stunning blue eyes darken as he reached out his other hand to toy with my other breast. He pinched the nipples, worshiping the flesh while he stared at it like he couldn't believe he had his hands on me.