He isn’t the one for me, not the one I’m supposed to marry anyway, yet I’ve never craved another man this much. My body has never reacted to anyone like it does to him. This pull inside me, this need to connect, never existed until him.
He’s everything I shouldn’t want; everything forbidden and wrong, yet here I am, aching for his touch like I’ve never ached for anything else in my life.
His fingers slip off my skin, and my first instinct is to whimper, but I keep it in. I won’t whimper for him. I shouldn’t whimper for anyone.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” His hand grazes the skin on my waist before brushing it lightly down the curve of my hip and thigh.
I’m delirious from his touch and unable to form a coherent thought.
How am I ever supposed to marry another man, to allow his hands on my body, after knowing what it means to be touched with so much reverence?
“I . . . I shouldn’t like this so much.” The words fall from my lips, and I don’t regret them. The darkness knows no difference between truth and lies, it only knows words. And I want to say them.
“Like when I do this?” Matteo’s hand goes back up my outer thigh and hip before making a detour to my stomach, where it slowly traces over my marred skin.
He touches my scar with such tenderness that I never want to leave this darkness with him.
“Yes.” My voice is barely a whisper in the otherwise quiet room.
“What about this?” His fingers move higher, brushing over the underside of one breast before doing the same to the other one.
His touch feels exquisite, and my lips part in response.
It’s not too late to stop.
Pinching my lips together, I hold back the groan.
I really shouldn’t be doing this.
What if the roles were reversed and I found out my cousin did this withmyfiancé?
Shit.
Talk about an ice-cold bucket over the head.
I’m a crappy friend and a crappy cousin.
I truly am.
What was I thinking?
Apparently, I have no self-control around this man.
“Matteo.” I place my hand on his, enjoying his warm skin on my body for one more second before taking it off. “I . . . I can’t.”
I was weak when he found me on the deck, the lust swirling in my head too strong to ignore after I watched him masturbate. But I can’t let anything like that happen again, not if this entire situation remains the same.
He lets me take his hand off but doesn’t let go of it. “Is this about Ally?”
“Mostly, yes.” There’s so much more than just Ally, but she’s definitely the biggest issue of them all, no doubt about that.
He yanks on my hand, and I have to take a step forward to catch myself. His soft breath hits my stomach a moment later, and I draw in a sharp breath. The fact that I can’t see him makes everything so much more intimate and intense, yet also liberating.
Then his breath is gone, and he shifts around on the bed. When he’s back, his breath moves up my body like a gentle breeze, caressing it without ever touching me.
He doesn’t stop at my breasts but continues until he’s right in front of my face. Letting go of my hand, he cups my face. “What if I told you I’m going to break things off with Ally?”
Hope flares inside my chest, and I immediately hate it. Because, where there’s hope, there’s also the chance of pain. And I don’t want to feel any more of it, I really don’t.