Page 130 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
“It’s not a nightie, it’s a torture device. I hate it.” He lovingly rubs his cheek against it and sighs.
I squirm underneath him, wanting him to release my wrists so I can paw his perfect body. “Let me go,” I say breathlessly, heat washing over me.
When he glances up at me, I catch my breath. His eyes have gone so dark. There’s a stillness in them, a new danger, and suddenly it’s very hard to breathe.
“No,” he says softly, as if to himself. “I don’t think I will.”
He transfers both my wrists to one hand and rips off his belt in a whip-crack move that has me gasping in surprise. He winds his belt around my wrists, ties it off to the headboard, and gazes down at me in hungry silence, inspecting my body.
His lips curve into a ruthless smile.
“Matteo—”
“Quiet.”
The dominant tone in his voice shuts me up just as fast as it turns me on. I bite my lip, watching him, feeling my pulse go from a trot to a gallop. I think I might ignite.
On his knees between my legs, he slowly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the floor. Looking at his abs, I squirm a little more, dying to feel him on top of me.
He climbs off the bed and casually strolls into the bathroom.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Aspirin,” he says over his shoulder. “Water.”
I drop my head back onto the pillow, close my eyes, and gnash my teeth. From the bathroom comes a low chuckle.
“What was that noise? Do we have two bears in the room?”
“You’re so lucky I’m tied up right now,” I say, breathing hard with the urge to throw something at him—primarily myself. “If I wasn’t tied up, I’d kick your butt. I’d do such a gnarly karate chop on your head, it would fly clean off. I’d—”
“Good thing you are tied up, then.” He appears at the bedside as quickly as he left, holding a glass of water in one hand and two small white pills in the other. Watching me glare at him, he smiles.
“Is this punishment for believing Dominic?”
“No. This is punishment for making me worry and shaving years off my life with that mouth of yours. Take these.” He holds out the aspirin.
I stick out my tongue and let him lift the glass of water to my lips so I can drink. After I swallow, I go back to glaring at him.
He sets the glass on the bedside table without looking away from me, murmuring, “But you know I won’t let you suffer too long.”
I make an incoherent peep of lust and squirm some more.
He straddles me, kneeling on either side of my hips and planting his hands beside my head. Staring down into my eyes, he says, “Or maybe I will. I haven’t decided yet.”
Before I can sling a few voodoo curses at him, he lowers his head and sucks my nipple through the nightie, making me arch and gasp.
“Mmm. Lace.” He tugs at the fabric with his teeth, scraping it across my nipple, making me gasp again. Then he pushes the nightie down, fills his hands with my breasts, and goes back and forth between them, nibbling and sucking until I can barely draw a breath.
“So pink and hard,” he whispers, softly kissing around one aching nipple. “Wet from my tongue. Where else are you pink and wet, bella?”
God please find out please find out and hurry up about it. I don’t dare speak, because I’m afraid it will break the spell, and he’ll go back to being angry and giving me space.
The last thing in the world I want from him at this moment is space.
He slides his big hands down my ribs until they span my waist. He squeezes, his eyes dark, his grip just this side of hard. I can tell he’s controlling himself, he’s working hard to go slow, and it thrills me to know he’s as excited as I am.
He follows the curve of my hips down to my thighs, then slowly pushes up the hem of my nightie.
