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“How are you feeling?” Matteo asks for the millionth time this week, like he always does when he enters the room.
I smile. “Better.”
I am better. I can actually stay awake for hours at a time. I can sit up in bed. My appetite has returned, and the pain is slowly subsiding. I just don’t have much strength left. I can barely walk. I can barely lift a fork to my mouth.
Matteo sits on the edge of the bed as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I love the feel of his hand against my cheek. Just like I love when Matteo asks me how I’m feeling. I love how he makes me laugh. I love how he holds me while I sleep to keep my nightmares away. I feel safe with him.
“Good. I brought you more books to read,” Matteo says, setting a large stack of books on the nightstand next to me.
“Thank you,” I say as Matteo stands up from my bed. “Where are you going?”
“I need to shower, and then I’m going to crash. It’s been a long night.”
I study Matteo further and realize that he is a dirty mess. I know, before I spent all my nights in his bed, he spent his nights away doing God knows what for the family business. But last night was the first night he spent away since I joined him in bed. I hated it.
“Crash here,” I say, needing him near me to push away the demons.
His eyes search mine a second—for what, I don’t know. But I let him in and show him how much I need him. I need him to lie next to me, so I can get some sleep. I need to feel his steady heartbeat and the calm inside him that washes over me whenever he’s close.
But I’ve become obsessed with the feel of him against my skin. I can’t sleep without him. If I’m not thinking of revenge against his father, I’m thinking about him. It’s probably stupid. I shouldn’t trust Matteo so easily, not when he is related to such monsters, but I do. He’s the only one I can trust. I need to trust someone if I’m going to survive here.
Matteo stands and kicks off his shoes. Then, he lifts his shirt over his head. I soak in his hard abs and chest, which are almost identical to Arlo’s. His long hair and scar on his face are the main differences between the two. That’s not true. Matteo is caring while Arlo is just as bad as his father.
He slides his pants down until he is standing in just his briefs. I try not to stare. I try not to think about what lies beneath the briefs. But my eyes automatically go there.
His smirk tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Damn it!
I shouldn’t feel this way, even about Matteo. I’m married.
But I need to make Matteo care enough about me to help me escape. And the only way to do that is to pretend like I care about him, too. Heath will forgive me for whatever happens while I’m here. He already knew my whole story when he married me. He knew this was a possibility. And, while he swore to do everything to protect me, he made me promise to do whatever it took to save myself. He didn’t specify what he meant. Now, I know.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. He’ll forgive me, but will I ever forgive myself?
Matteo walks over to the other side of the bed and pulls the sheets back before climbing into the bed next to me. “What are you thinking about, beautiful?”
I smile weakly as I fidget with the covers. “You.”
Again, Matteo searches my eyes for the truth, and when he finds what he thinks is the truth, he moves closer to me. His hand goes to the base of my neck, and his lips press against mine. He tenderly kisses me, carefully touching me only on the places that aren’t bruised. He draws me into his kiss and makes me forget about everything. I feel the familiar ache deep in my belly, and I pull away for a second, stopping the kiss.
I thought I was in control, but my body continues to disobey me. I’m not supposed to actually feel anything for these men. I’m not supposed to be turned on by Matteo’s kiss. I wasn’t supposed to come when Arlo fucked me.
Matteo kisses me on the forehead, and I melt a little. He’s so sweet and caring to me.
How could I not fall a little for him?
“It’s okay to want me. There is nothing wrong with wanting more than one man,” Matteo says, reading my mind.
“I only want Heath.”
“I know.” But his smirk says otherwise.
I frown. He thinks I want Arlo, too. He couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t want a man who raped me. Ever. No matter how obsessed and attracted to him I was before, there is no way I will ever want him again now.
Matteo pulls me close to him while he softly kisses me everywhere that I’m not bruised. My mind twists with thoughts of Arlo, Matteo, and Heath. I want the nightmares back. It would be better than w
hat my twisted mind is thinking. Instead, I drift off to sleep in Matteo’s arms while I think of two other men.
