Page 24 of His to Honor

After what happened between us, I’m feeling a little insecure. Thankfully, Matteo was happy to give me the reassurance I craved, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head.

Though he wasn’t there when I peeled my reluctant eyes open this morning, he must have been in the room only moments before, because a surprise awaited me on the nightstand. Alongside apain au chocolatand a cup of steaming hot cappuccino sat a single red rose. The scent of Matteo’s spicy body wash lingered in the air.

A smile touches my lips at his thoughtfulness. I’ve been around mafia men my entire life and know not to expect a lot ofconsideration. Though they’re not all the same, Matteo does belong to a specific type. He’s possessive, commanding, and unflinchingly violent. But, as breakfast proves, he’s also capable of being incredibly sweet.

I’ve been friends with Matteo for most of my life. We’ve shared a lot over the years. He took me to prom when Ricky Gallardo jilted me at the last minute in favor of Jessica Jensen and her gigantic boobs. He also beat Ricky to a bloody pulp and left him in a dumpster behind the school during prom, but I’m not supposed to know about that act of chivalry.

Matteo was there to comfort me when I broke my wrist after falling from a tree and I was there to stitch up his first knife wound. Thanks to my upbringing with a father who’s always been open about the world we live in, I’m not queasy about these things.

He also broke my heart when he didn’t intervene to stop my marriage to Johnny, and he shattered my confidence when he laughed about me with Marissa Locatelli. A part of me might never forgive him for that.

Now I have to figure out how to handle this new stage of our relationship. Will I be able to come to terms with us as a couple? Are we a couple? Matteo said he wanted to fuck me. Despite the voices screaming caution inside my head, I intend to let him. I guess that makes us a couple. Ugh. I hate that word. It doesn’t sound right for what Matteo and I are.

Trying to untangle how I feel about all this is impossible. I wish I had someone to talk to about this, but there’s no one. I can’t call my stepmother for advice. We’ve never had that sort of relationship and, besides, she wouldn’t be impartial. She’d tellme to lock Matteo down in hopes of furthering my father’s career in the Volante organization.

I don’t want to call Isabella either. We haven’t spoken for about a year and getting in touch just to lean on her for advice seems selfish. Besides, Matteo made it clear I’m not to contact anyone back home.

Confiding in Livvy isn’t a possibility, either. We may have shared a moment of understanding yesterday, but I know better than to trust her with my emotions. She’d use my vulnerability against me in a heartbeat.

Switching off the shower, I step out of the glass-fronted cubicle and grab a fluffy white towel from the metal rack. I wrap it around myself and walk out into the bedroom. Matteo is there, sitting on the bed. He’s wearing a pair of light gray sweatpants and nothing else. With his muscular torso featuring tattoos of skulls, snakes, and daggers, he’s the personification of sin.

“How’s the head?” he asks as a greeting.

“Good. The coffee helped.” Suddenly shy, I look down at his feet. Hmm. He has nice feet. I didn’t realize I had a thing for them before, but his are, well, manly. “It was nice of you to leave breakfast for me.”

Matteo smiles, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it. “I can be a nice guy.”

“I know.”

My eyes meet his, and we share a moment of connection. Heat rises to my cheeks as desire trickles through my veins, slowly bringing my body to life. A primal need pulses at my core. I wantthis man more than my next breath. Matteo’s dark gaze tells me he feels it too.

“Drop that towel, come over here, and I’ll show you how nice I can be.”

I don’t hesitate to obey his command. Unwrapping the towel, I drop it to the floor. Despite the urge to cover myself, I keep my arms at my sides as I slowly turn in a circle, letting Matteo get a good look at me. I’ve never been shy around him because what we had before wasn’t sexual. I didn’t care what he thought of my body. He’s seen me in a bikini a dozen times or more. I’ve changed my clothes in front of him, even been naked in his presence when we skinny-dipped on particularly hot summer days. But that was a long time ago.

Now that things have shifted between us, I’m less comfortable with the extra couple of inches at my waist, the ripples of cellulite at the backs of my thighs. I need assurance that Matteo desires me, no matter what minor imperfections I might have.

As I come full circle to face him once more, any anxiety I harbored on that score is banished. Evidence of his arousal is clear in the tenting of his sweatpants, the lustful glint in his eye. Emboldened, I walk slowly toward him, swaying my hips.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his hands wrap around my waist.

He pulls me close, leans forward, and presses his lips to my abdomen. Although the gesture is chaste, it feels incredibly intimate. A nerve twitches, making the skin beneath Matteo’s lips ripple. Chuckling, he pulls back. Then he looks up at me and all trace of amusement disappears from his face to be replaced by something far more intense.

“Giulia.” My name on his lips is imbued with so much emotion. He’s as aware as I am that this is not like his usual meaningless flings. We aren’t mere fuck buddies. Whether we like it or not, feelings are already engaged. We’ve loved each other since we were kids. If this ends tomorrow, it will hurt. Yet neither of us seems able to step back from the brink.

Matteo’s fingers trail up my spine and I tremble beneath his touch. He curves his hand around the back of my head and pulls me down to meet him. His lips are soft as they brush across mine. It’s the lightest of touches, but it makes my lips tingle. I open my mouth and he slips his tongue inside. He tastes like coffee. It’s not stale or unpleasant, but warm and comforting. There’s also a hint of spice that reveals he had cinnamon rolls for breakfast.

Pulling back from the kiss, I slowly sink to the floor between his legs. Matteo’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t stop me as I reach for the waistband of his sweatpants. He helps me out by lifting his hips so I can drag the jersey pants down his legs. I pull them off and toss them aside. Then I study him closely. His cock is long, thick, and fully erect. The head is a deep, glossy red and there’s a thick vein running along its underside. It exudes masculine power. In theory, I know what to do, but Matteo’s size makes it a challenge.

“Giulia, you don’t have to.” He must see the trepidation on my face.

“I want to.” I flash a reassuring smile in response to his concerned frown.

Slicking back my wet hair, I raise myself up on my knees. I place one hand flat on the bed to anchor myself. The other, I wrap around his shaft. Fuck! I knew he was big, but somehow heseems larger now. The thought of putting that massive thing in my mouth is scary. What if I can’t handle it?

Tentatively edging forward, I lower my head and take a couple of inches of his rock-hard erection into my mouth. At first I just hold it there, accustoming myself to how it feels. My cheeks puff out as I take a couple of breaths to steady myself. Having my mouth stuffed with his cock is strange, but not unpleasant. Matteo tastes clean and fresh. His scent is citrus, mixed with something indefinable but unmistakably masculine. I guess he showered before I woke.

Pulling back, I swirl my tongue around the bulbous head of his cock, lapping up droplets of fluid. Okay, this is not too bad. I lick along the underside of his erect shaft, following the line of the protruding vein. Matteo murmurs appreciatively. It’s encouraging, but I want more of a reaction. I part my lips, stick my tongue out, and draw as much of his length as I can into my mouth. Matteo lifts his hips, pushing deeper than I intended to go. My eyes water as he hits the back of my throat, and I fight the urge to gag.

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