Page 16 of Stolen Queen

Matteo's lips claim mine, igniting a fire within me that takes my breath away. I’ve heard about attraction and desire but never experienced it beyond schoolgirl crushes. This… wow… this is like a tidal wave of sensation coursing through my blood to every nerve ending in my body.

Matteo's touch is gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing the curves of my body, making me feel like a woman for the first time in my life. It feels good and yet achy, too. Like something is building inside me, building to a torturous tension.

I’m vaguely aware of us moving inside. Of being laid back on my bed. Heat builds. Passion intensifies. A need I don’t quite understand grows, and I know he’s the only one who can fulfill it. I’m being pushed up and up, wondering where the top is. What will happen when I reach it?

His fingers slip inside my panties, touching me in my most intimate spot. I gasp, feeling overwhelmed by sensation over sensation… need, pressure… it goes on and on until…

I wake with a start, my body tingling. My room is quiet, the morning sun shining through my balcony doors. I'm alone in my bed, but the ghost of Matteo's touch still lingers on my skin.

Heat rises to my cheeks as fragments of the dream flash through my mind. Matteo's lips on mine, his hands exploring my body, the fire that ignited between us. It felt so real, so intense. I press my face into my pillow, equal parts mortified and exhilarated by the vivid images my subconscious conjured.

Or was it real? I've never had a dream like that before, never even imagined anything so… passionate. Sure, I’ve heard about sex, but what I was told didn’t prepare me for the rush of desire that consumed me. How could I dream about something I’ve never experienced? Had Matteo really been here? In my room?

I frown. The events of last night feel hazy and dreamlike, making me question what really happened and what my mind might have conjured up. Had I snuck out and gone to a club? Did last night really happen? I glance down and note that I’m in my clothes. The taste of mint lingers on my tongue, a reminder of the Rumplemintz shots Matteo ordered for us at the club. I can still feel the burn as it slid down my throat, the way it made me feel alive and daring for the first time in my life. No, that wasn’t a dream. And neither was Matteo’s kiss.

I close my eyes, reliving the moment Matteo's lips met mine. The kiss was everything I'd imagined and more, passionate, intense, electrifying. My body tingles at the memory of his touch, his strong hands holding me close as if he never wanted to let go.

But what does it mean? Matteo is my father's enemy now, part of the family that rejected me not once, but twice. I shouldn't be thinking about him this way. And yet, I can't deny the attraction I've felt since that first dinner at the D'Amato mansion.

There's something about Matteo that draws me in. His dangerous charm, his protective nature, the way he seems to see the real me beneath the façade I've been forced to wear. Last night, he gave me a taste of freedom, a glimpse of the life I've been denied. An overwhelming desire to experience it all againfills me. The idea that my life will become small and not my own is unbearable. But what can I do?

I rise from bed and go stand on the balcony, almost as if I expect to see Matteo standing below it like in some Shakespearean drama. Things didn’t turn out so well for Romeo and Juliette. I should heed that story’s warning and forget Matteo.

My bedroom door flies open and my sisters burst into my room, piling up on my bed.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Gianna, my ten-year-old sister, asks as she bounces on my bed.

“Just wanted to be comfortable.” I’ll need to change before I go down to breakfast. My mother likes us to look nice, as if that will hide the uglier side of our family.

I sit on my bed with my sisters, the only bright side to my life. Gianna keeps bouncing, and the movement sends a wave of nausea through me. My head throbs, and I wonder if this is the aftereffect of the drinks I had last night.

"Are you okay, Ava?" Bella, my sixteen-year-old sister, asks, her voice tinged with concern.

"I'm fine.” I smile to hide my discomfort.

Bella leans in closer, her brow furrowed. "Are you sure? You're really pale, and your eyes are all glassy." She backs up and holds up the sign of the cross. “You’re not sick, are you? I don’t want to get it.”

"I’m not sick. I just didn’t sleep well.”

Gianna pipes up, "Did you have bad dreams?"

If only she knew. The memory of my vivid dream about Matteo flashes through my mind, making my skin heat. I quickly shake my head, regretting the motion as it intensifies my dizziness.

"No, no bad dreams."

Sofia, my thirteen-year-old sister, narrows her eyes at me. “Are you still upset about not being engaged?”

“I’m not upset about not being engaged.” I’ve been stoic about the D’Amatos’ rejection.

“I would be. I’d do anything to get out of this place,” Bella quips.

“Their enforcer was nice,” Sofia says, referring to Matteo.

Bella waggles her brows. “You like him.”

“What?” I’m mortified. How can they tell?

“Matteo and Ava sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g—” Gianna sings.

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