Page 395 of Rosetti Family New York
"Matteo..."
"You're mine," he says, his voice dropping to that rough whisper that makes my knees weak. "You've been mine since the moment I laid eyes on you. The only question is whether you're ready to admit it."
I should say no. Should step away, maintain the distance I've been trying to rebuild. But standing here, with his hands on me and his eyes burning with need, I can't remember why I was fighting this.
Instead, I lean into his touch, letting my body press against his. The contact sends electricity through me, and I can feel his sharp intake of breath. Can see the way his pupils dilate with want.
"I'm scared," I admit, the words barely audible.
"Of me?"
I shake my head slowly. "Of what I feel when I watch you." The confession slips out before I can stop it, raw and honest. "Of how much I like it when you're dangerous."
The sound he makes is somewhere between a growl and a groan. His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back, and for a moment I think he's going to kiss me right here, in front of his brothers.
Instead, he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, and his smile is dangerous and without mercy.
For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other. I can smell his cologne, something dark and expensive that makes my head spin. My eyes trace the strong line of his jaw, the way his pulse jumps at his throat, the way his lips are slightly parted like he's fighting for control. I want him to kiss me more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, and I hate that he's holding back. Hate that he's making me wait, making me ache for something I can't even admit I want.
And then his mouth crashes against mine with a hunger that steals my breath. The kiss is desperate, consuming, full of weeks of tension and need and the kind of raw desire that burns everything else away. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me with a thoroughness that makes my knees weak. I can taste the coffee we shared this morning, something dark and intoxicating that's purely him, the dangerous promise of what's to come.
My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he makes a sound against my mouth that's pure possession. Pure need. The kiss deepens, becomes something wild and desperate and inappropriate for where we are.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and I can see the fire burning in his eyes. The possession, the need to own me in every way that matters.
"Christ," he breathes, his voice wrecked. "What you do to me."
Behind us, someone clears their throat, and reality crashes back. We're standing in the middle of his family's conference room, having just made out like teenagers while his brothers watched.
But when I turn to look at Dom and Rafe, neither of them looks shocked. Dom's expression is unreadable, but Rafe is smirking like he's just won a bet.
"Well," Rafe says, his voice dry. "That answers that question."
My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but Matteo doesn't let me step away. His arm tightens around my waist, keeping me pressed against his side. Claiming me in front of his family without apology.
"We should go," he says, his voice still rough with need. "I have plans for the rest of the afternoon."
The way he says it, the promise in his voice, makes heat pool between my thighs. I know exactly what kind of plans he means, and God help me, I want them too.
I want him to take me home and finish what we just started. Want him to strip away every last barrier between us until there's nothing left but skin and heat and the kind of honesty that only comes in the dark.
Want him to make me forget everything except the way he says my name like a prayer.
15
Matteo
The car ride back to the safehouse is quiet, but it's a different kind of quiet than before. Electric. Charged. Isabella sits beside me, her hand resting on the seat between us, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin. The kiss in my office is still burning between us, raw and desperate and completely fucking addictive.
I want to touch her. Want to pull her across the seat and onto my lap, want to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until she's the only thing in my lungs. But I force myself to wait. To let the anticipation build until we're both shaking with it.
She's quiet, staring out the window at the trees that blur past in the darkness. But I catch her watching me in the reflection, her green eyes dark with want. The sight makes my cock throb against my zipper.
"You're thinking too much," I say, my voice rough.
"Am I?" She turns to look at me, and the heat in her gaze nearly stops my heart. "What am I thinking about?"
"How much you want me to touch you." I flip my coin between my fingers, the metal warm from my skin. "How much you want me to finish what we started in that office."
