Page 18 of Ruined By Protection
I press my fingers, still wet with her arousal, against her lips. "Taste yourself on me."
She hesitates only for a second before opening her mouth, allowing my fingers to slip inside. Her tongue swirls around them, cleaning them thoroughly. The sight of her sucking my fingers, tasting herself, nearly makes me come in my pants.
A soft moan escapes her as I withdraw my fingers. I reach over and press the button to restart the elevator, watching her face as she analyses what just happened.
"That was..." she trails off, unable to find the words.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my thumb tracing her flushed cheek. "We're just getting started, Hazel."
The elevator hums back to life, continuing its journey upward. I bend down to retrieve her pants, helping her step back into them.
Hazel
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake him. My body aches in the most delicious way as I pad across the plush carpet toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Moonlight spills through the glass, casting the presidential suite in silver shadows.
This place is bigger than my entire apartment. The living area alone could fit my bedroom three times over. Leather furniture, crystal decanters on the bar cart, and artwork that probably costs more than I'll make in a year. Everything screams money and power.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling small and out of place. Just a bartender working all hours to make ends meet.
Turning back to the bed, I watch Matteo sleep. He looks different like this—softer somehow. The dangerous edge that envelops him when he's awake has melted away. His dark lashes rest against his cheeks, his full lips slightly parted. The sheets pool at his waist, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest and the tattoos marking his skin.
My fingers touch my lips, still swollen from his kisses. I've never experienced anything like what happened between us tonight. Not just the physical pleasure—though God knows that was unlike anything I've ever felt—but the intensity of the connection.
I've always chosen safe men. Predictable men. Men who wouldn't challenge me or hurt me. Men I could walk away from when things got complicated.
Matteo is none of those things.
My body responds to him in ways I didn't know were possible. He touched places inside me no one has ever reached—and I don't just mean physically. That terrifies me more than anything.
I press my thighs together, feeling the pleasant soreness between them. Three times since we got to the suite, and each time more intense than the last. My cheeks heat, remembering the things he whispered in my ear, the way he made me beg.
But tomorrow he'll be gone. Back to his real life, whatever that is. I'm not naive enough to believe I'm anything more than a one-night stand to a man like him.
I touch the wildflower tattoo on my wrist, tracing the delicate lines with my finger.What am I still doing here?
Matteo
I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows I forgot to curtain last night. My body feels relaxed, satisfied in a way I haven't experienced in years. I reach across the bed, seeking Hazel's warmth, but my hand finds only cool sheets.
"Hazel?" I call, pushing up onto my elbows.
The space beside me is empty. I scan the room, noticing the absence of her clothes that were scattered across the floor last night. The door to the bathroom stands open, lights off.
"Hazel?" I call louder, throwing back the sheets and getting out of bed.
No answer.
I check the bathroom anyway, finding it empty. The living area of the suite is equally deserted, no sign of her anywhere. A knot forms in my stomach as I walk back to the bed, running a hand through my hair.
That's when I spot it—a small folded piece of paper on her pillow. I snatch it up, unfolding the hotel stationery to find her neat handwriting:
Matteo,
Thank you for last night. I didn't want to wake you.
Have a good flight back to New York.
—Hazel
