Page 440 of Rosetti Family New York
"You. This. A future where I don't have to choose between being strong and being loved."
He pulls me down for a kiss that's soft and claiming at the same time. "You'll never have to choose again," he promises against my lips. "I fell in love with your strength, Isabella. I'm not going to try to tame it."
I settle against his chest, my head over his heart. The steady rhythm is soothing, hypnotic. Outside, the city sleeps on, unaware that everything has changed.
"The nightmares," I say quietly. "They stopped weeks ago. The first night you made love to me."
His arms tighten around me. "You should have told me."
"I wasn't ready to admit what that meant." I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "But I'm ready now."
"And what does it mean?"
"It means I'm home." I look up at him, seeing my future reflected in those amber eyes. "It means I'm finally, completely, perfectly yours."
He reaches over to turn off the lamp, plunging us into comfortable darkness. "Sleep," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"Always."
I close my eyes, wrapped in his warmth and the scent that's become home to me. For the first time since I was a child, sleep comes easily. Peacefully. Without fear of what waits in the darkness.
Because I'm not alone anymore. I'm his, and in being his, I've discovered how to be mine.
29
Matteo
Morning light spills through the windows of my bedroom like warm honey, casting everything in golden relief. Isabella lies stretched beside me, honey-blonde hair tangled across the dark pillowcase, her bare skin luminous in the early sunshine. The sheet has slipped down to her waist, revealing the elegant curve of her spine, the delicate slope of her shoulders.
She looks peaceful. Satisfied. Mine.
I can't help myself. My hand slides under the Egyptian cotton, fingers tracing the silk of her thigh as I lean close to her ear.
"Can't start the day without getting my mouth on you," I whisper, my voice rough with sleep and need.
She stirs beneath my touch, a soft sound escaping her lips as I press kisses to the curve of her neck. Her skin tastes like vanilla and something uniquely her, a flavor I've become addicted to these past months. My mouth finds that sensitive spot behind her ear, and she arches into me with a sleepy moan.
"Matteo," she breathes, already melting for me. Always so responsive, my Isabella. Always so perfect.
"Mmm," I murmur against her throat, my hand sliding higher, finding her warm and ready. "Turn over, bella. Let me worship you properly."
She does, rolling onto her back with drowsy grace, emerald eyes heavy with desire as they meet mine. The morning light catches in her hair, turns her skin to porcelain. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, especially like this. Rumpled from my hands, marked by my mouth, looking at me like I hung the fucking stars.
"You're insatiable," she says, but her hands are already threading through my hair, pulling me down to her.
"For you? Every damn day." I settle between her thighs, taking my time with gentle kisses along her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts. "Told you I was addicted, didn't I?"
She laughs, the sound rich and warm, and it does something to my chest. Makes everything feel lighter, brighter. Like the sun has finally risen after the longest winter of my life.
I worship her slowly this morning, with reverent hands and patient mouth. None of the desperate claiming from last night, just lazy possession and whispered praise. She comes apart beneath me with soft gasps and trembling thighs, my name falling from her lips like a prayer.
"Mine," I murmur against her skin as she shudders through the aftershocks.
"Yours," she confirms, pulling me up for a kiss that tastes like promises and forever.
Afterwards, we shower together in the marble bathroom, steam rising around us as I wash her hair with careful hands. She leans into my touch, eyes closed, trusting me completely. The sight of her like this still amazes me. Isabella Callahan, the woman who faced down my family without flinching, melting under the simple pleasure of my fingers in her hair.
