Page 45 of Phantom Mine

“No,” he croaks. “Iwantyou. Desperately. I have for a long time.”

My brows pinch together at his words. He’s only known me for three weeks so that’s a dramatic exaggeration.

Matteo’s lips part as I continue to roll my hips sensually against him, driving his hard cock slowly up and down between my cheeks.

The air between us is so sexually charged, you could cut it with a knife. He clings to whatever little presence of mind he still has to ask me, “Are you actually a stripper?”

Awareness zaps up my spine and I swallow with difficulty. His grip turns bruising on my hips in response to my silence.

“I want to know something about you that’s real,” he continues, voice harsh with need. “I need to know if you’ve done this for others.”

Matteo looks like he’s going to explode when I roll my lower lip contemplatively between my teeth. Leaning back against hischest, I settle in like I belong. For long moments, I simply let my body move up and down in time with the harsh saw of his breathing.

“How do I know I can trust you?” I murmur.

That’sthe question.

After what happened in Rocco’s office, he obviously knows I’m hiding something, but I’ll lose all plausible deniability if I confirm it myself.

When I got home last night, I spent hours staring at the picture I’d discovered, hoping to see something I’d missed in my initial perusal. Try as I might, it remained the same picture of the scared girl with no new answers to give me.

I’d put the photo away and had fallen asleep thinking about Matteo. He was also in his brother’s office when he shouldn’t have been, he’d protected me instead of hurting me, and his reaction to his brother had been unexpected. In that moment, it was obvious how much he hated him.

My gut tells me that Matteo’s secrets rival my own, and that maybe he isn’t my enemy.

Maybe the enemy of my enemy is my friend… or whatever this thing is going on between us.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part. If he ever finds out I’m Thiago da Silva’s adopted sister, I’ll be a prized hostage for theFamiglia.

My arms lift to hook behind his neck as I arch my hips in circles, further gyrating on his hard length. His right hand slides from my hip over to the smooth plane of my stomach and comes to rest dangerously low on my belly.

“You can’t.” His face turns into mine and his lips find my ear. “But I know for a fact that I can’t trust you, and yet you’re still here. You’re still breathing.” His breaths fan across my cheek. “Let that be enough, Valentina.”

My name is a plea on his lips. I can’t help but moan in response. Hearing him utter it for the first time has goosebumps erupting all over my body.

“Have you danced for other men like you are now?” He grips my jaw and forces my face up to look at him, his dark gaze piercing mine. “Have you rubbed your ass against their hard cocks like this? Stared deep into their eyes like you are now while you drove them mad with lust for you?”

Oh, god.

The desperate possessiveness in his tone steals the words from my lips, the breath from my lungs, the verythoughtfrom my brain. It shatters the last remaining defenses I have against him.

I can’t shake my head with the way he holds my face firmly in place, so instead my lips shape my answer.

“No.”

Dark, territorial satisfaction erupts in Matteo’s gaze. “Never?”

“Never. I’m not a stripper.” To try and lessen the thick sexual tension, I add, “Neither was myabuela.”

His heavy-lidded eyes drop to my mouth instead.

“Kiss me,” he demands in a throaty whisper.

Blood rushes to my ears. “No.”

“I paid,” he counters, need bleeding into his tone.

I push against his chest. Matteo lets me sit up in his lap, but his hands circle my waist and stop me from moving any further.

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