Page 399 of Rosetti Family New York
I slide into her again, both of us groaning at the sensation. This angle hits different, deeper, and I can see everything. The way her body stretches to accommodate me, the way she pushes back against me, desperate for more.
"Harder," she begs, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Please, Matteo. I need it harder."
"Greedy little thing," I chuckle, but I give her what she wants. My hands grip her hips as I pound into her, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing through the room. "You love this, don't you? Love being fucked like this."
"Yes," she cries out, her body shaking with each thrust. "God, yes. Don't stop."
I reach around, my fingers finding her clit again. "Come for me one more time," I demand. "I want to feel you fall apart on my cock again."
She comes with a cry that's almost a scream, her body convulsing around me. I follow her over, my release hitting me like a freight train as I empty myself inside her.
We collapse together onto the sheets, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. The summer air moves across our skin, cooling the heat we've generated. She's curled againstmy side, her head on my chest, and I can feel her heart beating against mine.
The room is quiet except for our ragged breathing and the distant sound of water against the shore. Moonlight streams through the windows, casting everything in silver. I trace lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, my fingers still trembling slightly from the intensity of what just happened.
This isn't just sex. This is something else entirely. Something that's turned my carefully ordered world upside down and made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.
We lie there afterward, breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. She's curled against my side, her head on my chest, and I can feel her heart beating against mine. I trace lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, not wanting to break the spell.
"I didn't know it could feel like that," I whisper into the darkness. "Like you're inside my fucking chest."
She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes soft with something that looks like love. "What happens now?"
"Now?" I pull her closer, possessive and protective. "Now you're mine. And I'm yours. Whatever the hell that means."
She traces the scar on my chest, her touch gentle and reverent. "It means we figure it out together."
"Together," I repeat, the word foreign on my tongue. I've never done together. Never wanted to. But with her, everything is different. "I can live with that."
She smiles and settles back against my chest. I watch her until her breathing evens out, until she falls asleep in my arms. The silver coin sits on the nightstand, forgotten. I haven't touched it all night, haven't needed the familiar comfort of spinning metal between my fingers.
For the first time in my life, I don't need the distraction. Don't need the barrier. I have everything I need right here, warm andsoft and mine. The woman who sees through all my bullshit and wants me anyway.
But as I lie there in the darkness, listening to the night sounds through the windows, holding her close, I can't shake the feeling that this is the calm before the storm. That whatever comes next will try to tear us apart.
It won't work. I won't let it.
Isabella is mine now. And I protect what's mine.
No matter what it costs.
16
Isabella
The nightmare tears through me like claws, dragging me down into darkness where faces blur and voices whisper secrets I can't understand. I'm running through familiar hallways that stretch impossibly long, doors slamming shut behind me, the sound echoing like gunshots. Chase's voice follows me, promising consequences I can't escape.
Then warmth surrounds me. Strong arms pulling me against a solid chest, a low voice murmuring words I can't make out. The panic dissolves, replaced by something safe and achingly familiar.
"Shh, bella."
The word floats through my consciousness, spoken in a language I don't understand but somehow recognize. I'm caught between sleep and waking, awareness drifting in and out like tide. A thumb strokes across my cheek, wiping away tears I didn't know I was crying.
More words in Italian, soft and soothing. I catch "sicura" and "qui" but the meaning slips away like water through my fingers.Still, the tone is enough. Gentle. Protective. A voice I know, even through the haze of half-sleep.
The sound of it tugs at something buried in my memory. This voice, these hands, this feeling of being held. It's familiar in a way that makes my chest tight.
"You're safe. I'm here."
