Page 82 of The Fall Affair

Matteo’s response was to pinch my nipple.

“Oww.”

I should’ve been sated after the last hour, but the quick bite of pain lit my body on fire.

“That comment just moved putting you over my knee and painting your ass red with my hand up on the list.”

I thought I might like that, too. Matteo’s hand slid back up, fingers tightening around my throat. “I want you to sit on my lap, back against me, and ride me while I hold here.”

Oh my. I swallowed. Five minutes ago, I probably could’ve conked out, but suddenly I wanted to start checking things off his list. I felt a bit lightheaded. “What do you want to do first?” I asked, my voice breathy.

Matteo kissed my lips gently. “Make love to you.”

I tensed. That sudden urge to run came back, but at the same time I wanted nothing more than to melt into him. Matteo shifted on top of me, locking eyes with mine. “You scare me, too, bellissima. But you’re worth the risk.”

I couldn’t breathe for a few heartbeats, but the longer he looked at me, the more I began to relax. There was so much strength and trust in his gaze. Eventually, I took a deep breath and nodded. “I have an IUD, and I went to the doctor for a checkup right before coming to Italy. So if you’re good, we can skip the condom.”

Matteo’s head dropped, and he shook it with a small, almost amused smile. “And here you were, trying all along to break me, anything so I wouldn’t give you soft and sweet. Funny thing is, those are the words that might do it.”

We both smiled, and when our eyes met, everything else in the world seemed to fade away. Matteo took my mouth in a kiss, and it felt different from the others we’d shared—more passionate, more soul stirring, completely and utterly consuming. What started slow and sensual built to fevered and desperate.

Matteo’s mouth slid to my neck, then my ear. “I’m crazy about you, Allegra.”

I was nearly breathless. “Make love to me, Matteo.”

He hovered over me for the longest time, staring into my eyes. I thought he might be looking for reassurance. So I gave it to him by spreading my legs wide.

Without another word, he pushed into me, slow at first, inch by inch. I was still so wet from earlier, yet I was unprepared for his girth. Matteo’s eyes closed, and his jaw tightened as he stretched my body to take him fully. Once he was completely inside me, he groaned. “Cazzo… che bello stare dentro di te.”

My God. That had to be the sexiest thing I’d ever heard—Matteo’s raw, raspy voice speaking Italian while he was inside me. I wasn’t even sure what he’d said. I knew Cazzo meant fuck and bello meant beautiful, but even if I hadn’t understood a single word, I would’ve known he was satisfied. “Say that again.”

Matteo moved in and out of me. “Fuck. You feel so good.”

“No, in Italian.”

He pushed in deep and looked into my eyes. “Cazzo…sei mia.” Fuck…you are mine.

My chest tightened with something I hadn’t allowed myself to put a label on before—something real, something true. And in that moment, I realized this was it. I was his.

Matteo’s pace increased. He moved rhythmically and with more intensity. Gentle grew hard. Easing in and out became thrusting deep. But all the while, Matteo kept his gaze locked to mine.

“Cazzo…sei mia,” he whispered.

I swallowed and whispered back, “I’ve been yours since practically the day we met. I was just too afraid to admit it.”

We sealed our confessions with a kiss that never broke, not even when I started to come undone. I moaned into Matteo’s mouth as my orgasm took hold. “I’m gonna…” But the rest of the words were only a gasp.

He sped up his pace, working toward his own release until he finally buried himself deep and let out a roar. My orgasm had started to ebb, but it pulsed back to life, feeling the heat seep inside me.

We collapsed against each other, breathless and shattered. I still had no idea what I was going to do about Italy or the future—but I was certain my life wasn’t going to be the same.

Chapter 27

Allegra

THE NEXT MORNING, I woke to a cold spot instead of a warm body. I wrapped a sheet around me and went in search of Matteo. I found him standing at the stove, his shirtless back to me, dancing to Italian music. I leaned my head against the doorway and smiled, enjoyed the show along with the smell of sizzling bacon in the pan.

Matteo’s gray sweatpants hung low on his narrow waist, and the muscles in his back flexed as he shifted his hips from side to side, pulling off some impressive dance steps. The performance went on a few minutes before he lowered the flame on the burner, transferred crisp bacon from the pan to a plate, and turned around. He took two steps toward the table before spotting me.