His skin felt like it was burning. Or perhaps that was the blood beneath his skin. Either way, he felt like he would be consumed by his need. His desire. Passion he swore he would never allow himself to feel.
Emotion he swore he would never feel.
But in this moment with Alessia, her eyes so bright and intense, so honest, he could hold back nothing. Deny her nothing. Least of all this.
She knew the truth, and still she wanted him. Not as a perfect figure, a knight in shining armor, but as the man he was. It was a gift he didn’t deserve, a gift he should turn away, because he had no right to it.
But he had spoken the truth. He was selfish. Far too selfish to do anything but take what was on offer.
“Show me you want me.” His words were rough, forced through his tightened throat. “Show me you still want me.” Those words echoed through his soul, tearing through him, leaving him raw and bleeding inside.
Alessia wrapped one arm around his neck, her fingers laced in his hair, and put the other on his cheek. She pressed a kiss to his lips, soft, gentle. Purposeful. “Always.”
There was no hope of him being noble, not now, not tonight. But then, that shouldn’t be a surprise. He didn’t do noble. He didn’t do selfless. And it wouldn’t start now.
He kissed her, deep and hard, his body throbbing, his heart raging. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close, reveling in the feel of her. Touching Alessia was a thrill that he didn’t think would ever become commonplace. He had hungered for her touch, for her closeness, for so many years, and he knew his desire for it would never fade.
If anything, it only grew.
He slid his hands down her waist, over her hips, her thighs, and gripped her hard, tugging her up into his arms, those long, lean legs wrapping around his waist as he walked them both to the bed.
Alessia started working on the knot on his tie, her movements shaky and clumsy and all the sexier for it. He sat on the bed, and Alessia remained on top of him, now resting on her knees. She tugged hard on the tie and managed to get it off, then started working at the buttons on his shirt.
He continued to kiss her, deep and desperate, pushing her dress up, past her hips, her waist, her breasts, and over her head. Her lips were swollen from kissing, her face flushed, her hair disheveled from where he’d run his fingers through it.
She looked wild, free, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But then, Alessia had been, from the moment he’d seen her, the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. And then, when his vision of her had been one of innocence, protectiveness, it had been all about that glow that was inside of her.
He could see it, along with the outer beauty that drove him to madness. Now that their lives, their feelings, had no more innocence left, he could still see it. Still feel it deep inside of him, an ache that wouldn’t ease.
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, the buttoned cuffs snagging on his hands. A little growl escaped her lips. He wrapped one hand around her waist to hold her steady and lay back on the bed, leaving her perched over him, then he undid the buttons as quickly as possible and tossed the shirt to the side.
Alessia moved away from him, standing in front of the bed, in front of him. She met his eyes, and put her hands behind her back, her movement quick. Her bra loosened, then fell, baring her breasts to him. His stomach tightened, he could barely breathe.
She smiled, then hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties and tugged them off.
He wanted to say something. To tell her how beautiful she was, how perfect. But he couldn’t speak. He could only watch, held completely under her spell.
She approached the bed, her fingers deft on his belt buckle, making quick work of his pants and underwear, and leaving him as naked as she was.
“You’re so much more … Just so much more than I ever imagined,” she said. “I made fantasies about you, but they were a girl’s fantasies. I’m not a girl, though, I’m a woman. And I’m glad you’re not only that one-dimensional imagining I had of you. I’m glad you’re you.”
She leaned in, running the tip of her finger along the length of his rock-hard erection. Every thought ran from his head like water, his heart thundering in his ears.
Lush lips curved into a wicked smile and she leaned in, flicking her tongue over the head of his shaft. “I’ve never done this before. So you have to tell me if I do it wrong.”
“You couldn’t possibly do it wrong,” he said, not sure how he managed to speak at all. It shouldn’t be possible when he couldn’t breathe.
And she proved him right. Her mouth on him hot, sweet torture that streaked through his veins like flame. But where other flames destroyed, this fire cleansed. He sifted his fingers through her hair, needing an anchor. Needing to touch her, to be a part of this. Not simply on the receiving end of the pleasure she was giving him.
He needed more. Needed to taste her, too.
“Get on the bed,” he growled.
She complied, not abandoning her task as she got up onto the bed, onto her knees. He sat up and she raised her head, her expression confused. Then he grasped her hips and maneuvered her around so that she was over him, so that he could taste her like she was tasting him.
She gasped when his tongue touched her.
“Don’t stop,” he said, the command rough, firmer than he’d intended it to be, but she didn’t seem to mind.
He slipped a finger inside of her while he pleasured her with his tongue, and she gasped again, freezing for a moment before taking him fully into her mouth. His head fell back, a harsh groan on his lips.
“I can’t last much longer,” he said.
“Neither can I,” she panted, moving away from him, returning a moment later, her thighs on either side of his. She bent down and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Ready?” she asked.
“More than.”
She positioned her body so that the head of his erection met with her slick entrance, then she lowered herself down onto him, so slowly he thought he would be consumed utterly by the white heat moving through him.
She moved over him, her eyes locked with his. He grasped her hips, meeting each of her thrusts, watching her face, watching her pleasure.
He moved his hand, pressed his palm flat over her stomach, then slid it upward to cup one of her breasts. He liked the view. Liked being able to see all of her as she brought them both to the brink.
She leaned forward, kissing his lips, her breath getting harsher, faster, her movements more erratic. He lowered his hand back to her hip and strengthened his own movements, pushing them farther, faster.
They both reached the edge at the same time, and when he tipped over into the abyss, all he could do was hold on to her as release rushed through him like a wave, leaving no part of him untouched. No part of him hidden.
When the storm passed, Alessia was with him.
She rested her head on his chest, her breath hot on his skin. He wrapped his arms tight around her, held her to him.
He would keep her with him, no matter what.
Yes, he was a selfish bastard.
But in this moment, he couldn’t regret it. If it meant keeping Alessia, he never would.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALESSIA WOKE UP a few hours later, feeling cold. She wasn’t sure why. It was a warm evening, and she had blankets, and Matteo, to keep her warm.
Matteo.
He made her heart feel like it was cracking apart. She wanted to reach him. Wanted to touch him. Really touch him, not just with her hands on his skin, but to touch his heart.
This was so close to what she wanted. A baby. The man she loved. Dio, she loved him so much. It made her hurt. Not just for her, but for him. For what she knew they could have that he seemed determined to wall himself off from.
A tear slipped down her cheek and she sat up, getting out of bed and crossing to the window. Now she was crying. She wasn’t really sure why she was crying, either.
But she was. Really crying. From somewhere deep inside of herself. From a bottomless well that seemed to have opened up in her.
Why did she never get what she wanted? Why was it always out of reach?
Her mother’s love had been there, so briefly, long enough for her to have tasted it, to know what it was. Just so she could feel the ache keenly when it was gone? And then there was Matteo. The man she’d wanted all her life. Her hero. Her heart’s desire.
And when her father said she would marry a Corretti, of course it was Matteo who had come to mind. But she’d been given to Alessandro instead. And then, one more chance, Matteo at the hotel. And she’d managed to mess that up.
In the end, she’d gotten Matteo, but in the clumsiest, most dishonest way imaginable. Not telling him she was engaged, announcing to the world she was pregnant, forcing him to marry her, in a sense.
And now there was this … this heat between them that didn’t go deeper than skin on his side. This love that was burning a hole through her soul, that he would never, ever be able to return.
“Alessia?” She turned and saw Matteo sitting up, his voice filled with concern. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head. And he hadn’t. She’d hurt herself. “I was just … thinking.” There was no point in hiding the tears. Her voice was wobbly, watery. Too late to bother with the fiction that she was fine.
“About what?”
She bit her lip. Then opted for some form of honesty. “I’ve been pretending.”