Page 88 of Phantom Mine

My head whips around, my gaze snapping to his face. He doesn’t seem ashen or pale, he’s not shaking, there’s no sweat beading at his brow… but there is a growing smirk tugging at his lips.

My eyes narrow on him. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

Matteo has one wrist resting casually on top of the steering wheel, the move effortlessly masculine and attractive.

He turns his signature charming grin my way. “Agree to disagree.”

There are some individuals who just inexplicably draw people in. It’s in their aura, in the way confidence and assertiveness just ooze off of them. Matteo is one of those people. He’s impossible to look away from, let alone stay away from.

His gaze slides to mine. When he finds me staring at him, his grin dissolves into something softer, something that feels consequential.

Something that’s decidedly not justfun.

And we just had that conversation less than fifteen minutes ago.

Fuck.

He reaches across the console. I watch as though removed from my own body as he threads his fingers through mine and holds my hand firmly in my lap. He stares at the road ahead, the expression on his face content like this is the most natural thing in the world for him.

I shake my hand loose of his and fist it on my thigh instead, ignoring the way my fingers tingle where he touched them.

Matteo doesn’t seem surprised that I pull away. “You won’t hold my hand?”

“That’s too intimate.”

His jaw shifts violently, his teeth scraping loudly over each other, then it goes rigid.

“Will you at least tell me your real name?” he finally asks.

My heart clenches violently. He already has it, he just doesn’t know. I’m not sure why I told him the truth that day. It was my first slip up with him. The first crack through which I’d let a part of the old me filter through.

Now I’m desperately trying to shove that part of me back in, to close the crack and pretend like it was never there, while he’sdoing his best to blow it wide open and make himself at home inside the tattered remains of my soul.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Matteo’s hand closes around my thigh just above my knee and he squeezes. I feel his touch in my core as a bolt of pleasure shoots straight to my pussy.

“Well, it’s too long.”

“Excuse me?” I turn to stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“‘Valentina’ is just too many syllables to get through,” he explains. “I feel like I’m reprimanding you half the time. Until you finally decide to be honest with me, you need a nickname.”

“You don’t get to just give me one.”

“I’m going to be fucking you every night.” He turns a heavy gaze on me that makes me bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning. “I think that gives me the right to call you what I want. How about Val?”

I scrunch my nose in disgust. “Ew, that’s giving white woman.” Matteo chuckles. His fingers dance shamelessly along my inner thigh, distracting me into slipping up. “My brother calls meVale,” I offer.

“You have a brother?” A pleased smile toys across his lips at the revelation.

Shit.

It’s too late to take it back now. “Yes.”

His hand leaves my thigh and moves up to cup my cheek. His eyes stay focused on the road, but then he glances at me. His thumb brushes affectionately over my skin like he’s rewarding me.

“I’m not calling you by another man’s nickname, not even your brother’s. Tina?” he suggests.

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