My eyes flutter open, but I’m greeted with darkness. “Matteo?”
“Shh, go back to sleep.”
He gets on the bed with me still in his arms, the mattress dipping under our weight.
“What time is it?” My voice is all raspy, which isn’t too surprising when I try to swallow with a dry throat.
“It’s almost ten. Sleep.”
I’m still tired, so I close my eyes again until my bladder complains. Once I feel like I need to go to the bathroom, all bets are off, and there’s no way I can go back to sleep.
Wiggling in his arms, I try to pull back, only to find his arms caged tightly around me. Almost like he doesn’t want to let go of me.
That possibility sends a quivering feeling to my stomach, but I stop it before it can go any further. This is Matteo we’re talking about here. There will be no sappy emotions from this man.
But he’s called you, baby, more than once now.
Now that I think about it, wasn’t that always when shit was going down, so almost like a knee-jerk reaction?
My thoughts are all over the place to the point where even I have trouble following them in my still-sleepy state. Although it sounds like my subconscious is having a field day with my drowsy conscience.
With my hand on Matteo’s chest—his very naked chest, I might add—I push back as far as I can go. “I need to use the bathroom.”
He grumbles, the noise vibrating under my palm. “Fine.”
I tighten my hand on his skin before relaxing it, enjoying the feel of it under my fingertips. I even like the feel of his coarse chest hair, which is something I never expected to like.
He opens his arms for me and rolls aside. “Hurry back, so we can go to sleep.”
I don’t respond but rush toward the bathroom. Albeit I do need an extra couple of minutes to take care of the mess I made of my hair. Falling asleep in the armchair with a towel on my head wasn’t ideal, but it’s too late to fix it now. I brush through it at record speed before throwing it up into a bun on top of my head.
Then there’s the issue of still wearing the bathrobe and not having any pajamas or even a shirt lying around.
Walking back into the dark bedroom, I clear my throat. “Can you turn on the light, please, so I can get something to wear from the dresser?”
“I got something over here for you.”
“Oh.” After more than two weeks in this room, I can mostly navigate it in the dark without any issues, at least the path from my side of the bed to the bathroom and back. Since there shouldn’t be anything in the path to Matteo’s side I can bump into, I slowly make my way over there to get my clothes.
“Take off your robe. Just leave it on the floor.”
I hesitate but then do it anyway. I won’t be naked for long, not that he can see me in the darkness anyway.
The robe quietly floats to the floor, and I feel my way around the bed to get to the top. I touch Matteo twice but ignore him and keep moving.
“Almost there.” His voice is close. “Just a little more.”
I hold out my hand so he can give me my clothes, but the next time I make contact with him, it’s his face. There’s no mistaking his stubble and that delicious mix of soft and rough, depending on which way you touch it, or where it touches you.
He leans his face into my touch then turns his head and kisses my palm. I start, ready to yank my hand back when he grabs my arm with his fingers, kissing his way up my hand to my wrist. He lingers there, as if it’s a special spot. Which it’s definitely not to me. I’m about to ask him if he might have a wrist fetish, just as he licks the spot he just kissed.
Well, shit. If he continues like this, I’ll be the one with the wrist fetish in no time.
By the time he stops, my breath comes out in quick bursts, and my heart is beating like it’s trying to create a new rhythm that’s just for Matteo.
Why does it need to be this man who makes me want to throw all caution to the wind?
Why does he have to be the one who makes me want to disregard all the rules?