Page 62 of Tempting Tessa

“Matteo, I can’t—” she protests weakly, but I silence her with a firm grip on her thigh.

“Shh,” I murmur against her flesh. “Just let me taste us together.”

I lick a slow stripe up her pussy, savoring the mixture of her sweetness and my salt. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head as I clean her with my tongue, gentle but thorough. I press soft kisses to her inner thighs, admiring the red marks my stubble has left on her delicate skin.

“So fucking beautiful,” I whisper, kissing my way up her body. I pause at her stomach, pressing my lips to the place where our child grows. “Both of you.”

She’s watching me through half-lidded eyes, exhaustion and pleasure making her pliant beneath me. I continue my journey upward, stopping to worship each breast with my mouth, sucking gently on her nipples until she arches into me.

When I finally reach her face, I cradle it between my hands, thumbs stroking her flushed cheeks. Her eyes are liquid, filled with something that looks dangerously close to surrender.

“You took that so fucking well,” I tell her, my voice rough with emotion.

She shivers, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“The way you let go for me,” I continue, pressing my forehead to hers. “Fucking beautiful when you stop fighting it and just take what I give you.”

I capture her mouth in a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue, the evidence of what we just did together. She moans softly, her hands coming up to grip my biceps.

“Never seen anything hotter than you coming apart on my dick,” I murmur against her lips. “The way your pussy grips me when you cum, like it’s trying to milk every drop.”

I roll to the side, pulling her with me so she’s draped across my chest. Her purple hair fans out over my skin, a stark contrast to my olive tone. I stroke her back in long, soothing motions, feeling her breathing slow as exhaustion takes over.

“Get some sleep, stellina,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You need rest.”

It doesn’t take long for her body and mind to relax as I feel her go lax and fall victim to sleep. Then, and only then, do I allow my own eyes to close.

I’m so fucking gone for this woman.

Chapter 20

Contessa

Iwake up choking on bile, my stomach twisting like someone’s wringing it out with both hands. The nausea hits so fast I barely have time to register where I am before I’m stumbling out of bed, naked and disoriented, making a desperate dash for the bathroom.

I don’t even make it to the toilet before the first heave hits. I double over the sink, gripping the marble counter so hard my knuckles go white, and everything comes up in one violent surge.

“Fuck,” I gasp, spitting and retching. My eyes water as another wave hits, harder this time, my body convulsing with the force of it.

I’m so busy puking my guts out that I don’t hear Matteo enter until I feel his presence behind me—solid and warm, his hand gathering my hair at the nape of my neck while the other steadies my hip.

“I got you,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

I want to tell him to fuck off, to leave me alone in my disgusting misery, but all I manage is a pitiful groan before another heave bends me forward. He holds me through it, one big hand keeping my hair out of the splash zone while I empty what feels like every organ in my body into his pristine sink.

When the spasms finally subside, I’m left trembling, my skin clammy with sweat, tears streaming down my face. I must look like absolute death, but Matteo doesn’t flinch. He just reaches for a washcloth, wets it with cool water, and gently wipes my face.

“This is so fucking humiliating,” I croak, my throat raw from stomach acid.

“It’s morning sickness,” he says simply, like that explains everything. Like puking in front of him at—I glance at the digital clock on the counter—5:43 in the fucking morning is somehow normal now.

I try to stand up straight, but my knees wobble dangerously. Matteo’s arm slides around my waist, solid as iron, keeping me upright.

“Brush,” he commands, squeezing toothpaste onto my toothbrush and handing it to me.

I take it with a shaky hand, desperate to get the acid taste out of my mouth. While I brush, he disappears briefly, returning with a plush gray robe that he drapes over my shoulders. The fabric is obscenely soft against my naked skin, and I realize with a jolt that it’s new. It’s not his, but clearly meant for me. Another thing he’s bought without asking.

“Better?” he asks when I finish rinsing.