Page 65 of His Tesoro

I shifted on the cushion until our bodies were pressed together. When he didn’t move away, I rested my head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, tesoro?”

Could he hear the way my heart pounded at the term of endearment?

“I’m… leaning.”

“Leaning?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Okay. You lean all you want.” He adjusted his body so his arm was around me and then I was pulled tight to his chest. He was warm and comforting as I melted against him. Then his hand ran down my hair, and I was pretty sure I had actually died and this was heaven.

“I’ll take being shot at every day if it leads to this,” I said, snuggling deeper into Matteo’s embrace.

His hold on me tightened. “Don’t fucking joke about that.”

I ran my nose down the column of his throat, surprising myself with my boldness. “Who says I was joking?”

He sighed. “How about I promise to hold you every day if you promise not to get shot at?”

“Deal.”

“Are you sure you don’t need another blanket?” he murmured.

“Not when you’re here to keep me warm.”

He ran his hand down my arm. “Are you hungry?”

I tilted my head to meet his gaze and raised a tentative hand to cup his face. Matteo leaned into my hand, and my breathing sped up. “There is something I need.”

“What? Anything,” he said seriously.

I bit my lip, my heart racing. The adrenaline from earlier must have addled my mind because there was no way I was actually going to say it out loud. “A kiss.”

Matteo blinked. “What?”

“I want a kiss.”

His brow furrowed, and I held my breath, sure he would refuse me. But then his hand cupped my face, his thumb running down my cheek. “If that’s what you need, how can I refuse you?” Then he was tilting my face, his lips meeting mine with a softness so in contrast to his typical harshness, and I wondered if this was a side of him saved just for me. I would choose to believe it, even if it wasn’t true, because the way he was clutching me close was a feeling I never wanted to forget.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said between hungry kisses.

I whimpered and ran my fingers through his hair, giving it a tug. “Yes, you should.”

“You’re hurt.” He pressed hot kisses down my jaw.

“I’m not.” I put my arms around his neck and pulled myself sideways into his lap, feeling his hardness press against my thigh. Dr. Amato had wrapped my knee to stabilize it, but I was completely fine otherwise.

He groaned, his hips giving an involuntary thrust against me. “I should be taking care of you.”

“You are taking care of me.” I moved my lips back to his and this time, I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips. They parted with a groan and then Matteo let go of his carefully curated facade, gripping my face with one hand and my ass with the other.

He was devouring me—his tongue hot as it pressed against mine, his hand threading through my hair with a stinging grip. I moaned and he swallowed the sound as he ran his hands over my body. I grew wet and needy and suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about feeling my husband inside me. His fingers brushed against my nipples, and my kisses grew more desperate.

“Please,” I gasped.

“What do you need?”

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