"All that matters is you're my husband. But yes. You’ve given me everything I could ever dream of having.”
"Well then, my wife," Matteo growled. "I think it's time that we went to bed." He swept me up into his arms as I giggled, hiding my face as our guests stared at us.
“Oh God,” I cried, kicking my legs. He didn’t care. Matteo’s feet carried us to the house and inside, ignoring the hooting and cheering behind us.
“Go get him, girl!” Samara shouted, shrieking when Lino moved to grab her.
The house was empty, except for a few guests waiting in line to use the bathroom. “There’s no one to save you now,” he teased, taking the steps slowly.
“Who said I wanted saving?” I whispered, pressing my face into his neck and breathing him in.
If there was any one thing that comforted me above all else, it was the way Matteo smelled.
Like him. Like his soap.
Like me.
I’d never considered myself possessive aside from Matteo, but if he ever smelled like another woman or touched another woman, I just might need my shank hand.
He set me down in our bedroom, turning me to face away from him. Matteo's hands drew down the zipper at the back of my dress, oh so slowly.
Teasing me.
My own fingers released the clip that kept my hair pulled to one side, reveling in the way Matteo's lips skimmed the back of my neck. The A-line dress pooled at my feet in a puddle of white. I turned, facing Matteo so he could get the full experience of my lingerie. He'd been nothing but gentle since my concussion, making love to me every chance he got but never giving me the rougher parts of him I loved.
I wanted to test his control, feel it snap. The strapless corset hugged my growing breasts perfectly, and I backed onto the bed with a little smirk on my face. Rubbing my thighs together, I watched Matteo loosen his tie and strip off the jacket of his tux. His smirk matched mine. I should know, since I'd learned it from him.
Watching him strip off his tux was a thing of beauty, revealing sculpted inch after sculpted inch until he wore nothing, and I had to fight the urge to pounce on him.
My pregnancy was a gift and a curse to Matteo, giving me a sex drive impossible to keep up with.
He gave it a good run for his money, but I worried that I'd distract him from his work. He climbed into the bed with me, sliding into the cradle of my thighs and taking my mouth in a passionate kiss. Those kisses melted any resolve I could have ever put up, any wall I could have ever built between us.
Those kisses were love.
Pure, untainted love.
No secrets, nothing standing in our way.
"I don't deserve you," he murmured, trailing lips down over my collarbone. "But I will spend the rest of my life proving that you're mine, anyway."
A smile graced my face, watching as his fingers worked the little closures at the front of my corset. "You don't have to prove anything, Teo," I whispered. "Because I choose you. Always." His eyes flashed to mine, relief and longing mixed in those pools of blue. I hadn't realized how much he needed those words. How much I'd hurt him by saying I needed to choose him, as if it wasn't a foregone conclusion.
To Matteo, it had been a condemnation, a denial of the love that vibrated between us like an electric current.
But I'd have loved him for the rest of my life, even if I couldn't be with him.
Always.
He was inside me, part of me in every moment.
And I knew that nothing would keep him from me. Not even a rival gang member. He tore the corset away, yanking the panties away until they tore beneath the force of his desperation as that control snapped.
I reached a hand between us, guiding him inside me so we moved in tandem. He surged inside, filling me to the brim and filling my ears with the sound of his pleasured groan. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and drew him down to kiss me, lifting my hips to accept his thrusts. "I love you," I whispered against his lips, staring into his eyes like I might connect with the deepest parts of his soul.
"I love you too, Angel." One of his hands came up, cupping my nape as we shared the air between us, and his other palmed my ass in his hand. His chest touched mine, brushing against my breasts and stimulating the oversensitive flesh.
There was nothing but us, nothing but his skin on mine and the place where we connected. His lips touched mine, tongues tangling in an intimate embrace that sent me spiraling over the edge until I dragged Matteo with me. Heat filled me as he came, and it was in the moments after sex that I whispered the name of our child.
"Luna if it's a girl."
"Luca for a boy," he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine as we laughed.
"How did I get so lucky?" I teased him, thinking he'd scoff at me like he always did.
"Love finds a way," he whispered back, shocking me with the easy smile that took over his face.
That it did.
For more of Matteo and Ivory, download the exclusive extended epilogue for a glimpse into their life 1.5 years later. Get it here.
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Continue on for a sneak peek into Forgivable Sins (Bellandi Crime Syndicate #2).
Coming soon.
Forgivable sins chapter one
Samara
I ran.
I ran harder than I ever had. My bare feet left a trail of blood with each step.
Slipping on the hardwood, I skidded into the door with a painful thump that made my already tender stomach concave from the force of the doorknob. Blood coated my fingers, and I whimpered when I couldn't get a grip. It wouldn’t turn. Wouldn’t open.
A groan and thud sounded at the top of the stairs where I'd left the bedroom door wide open in my effort to make a hasty escape. "Samara! You stupid cunt!" he roared at the top of his lungs, and I whimpered again, finally dragging my nightgown up to wrap it around the knob and pull it open.
Out the door. My feet thudded against the pavement, sprinting for the neighbor's house. Pavement turned to grass, the stab of each blade in the cuts on my feet echoed with the frigid night air stabbing at my lungs as I gasped for breath. I fell on the front step, finally screaming for Linda to open her door.
He was coming.
Drunk. Desperate.
"Linda!" I screamed, banging on the door again.
She gasped when she tore it open, and I fell inside into a puddle of nothing but blood and bruised flesh.
"Samara!" he yelled again, but the door closed and locked, cutting off the rage in his voice.
Safe. Safe behind closed doors.
For now.
My eyes snapped open, and I shot to a sitting position in bed. My empty bed, with my new mattress.
It didn't matter. Every time I opened my eyes, I still saw the broken mirror on the floor, the blood on the base of the lamp I'd used to smash him over the head. Too fevered, my body felt slick with sweat as I shoved the blankets off. I curled my legs in, crossing them and trailing a finger over the scars on my feet. Thick, hideous white lines that covered the soles.
It had taken hours for Linda to pull out all the pieces of glass.