Page 42 of Crowning His Innocent Assistant

“Then there was the night you came into my room, and I was naked. You brought me a drink and you sat with me. And it was tenderness in a way I had never known. And I thought you beautiful.”

She closed her eyes and fought against the tears that were threatening to build.

“Then, you yelled at me in a wild fury in my office when I told you about Violet. You were in a rage like I had never seen you. And I thought you beautiful. Like when I taught you to dance in my office and you looked up to me with trust and openness and let me hold you in my arms even though you and I both know the cost of trusting another person that way. And I thought you beautiful.”

“Matteo...”

“So you see, this is not new. It is only that I said it for the first time recently. Not that I thought it for the first time.”

“Make love to me.”

“That’s what I’m already doing, querida.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Mouse,” he whispered. “But you must admit, it is not sexy.”

“But it’s mine.”

And that was the end of that, for he kissed her again, his hand still playing havoc on her breast, causing showers of sparks to bounce around inside her stomach. Then he took his mouth away from hers, and moved down to her breast, taking one nipple and sucking it deep. She arched in his arms, the desperate need building between her legs undeniable.

Unstoppable.

He moved his mouth to her other breast, and she felt like she might die. He strode across the room then, depositing her on the center of the very large bed. And then he moved away from her, standing at the foot of it.

“Matteo,” she said, not caring if she sounded as if she was begging. She would beg him. She would beg him for more, for his touch, for his possession. Anything, so that he wouldn’t stop.

But then, his hands moved to his shirt, and he began to unbutton it deftly, dropping it and the suit jacket down to the floor and leaving him bare chested. Oh, she had seen his chest many times, and it always thrilled her. But this still felt like the first time. The first time seeing that broad, muscular chest covered with just the right amount of dark hair. Those perfect ab muscles, and the deep cut right at his hip bones.

Because now, she would actually get to touch him. Now, he was not just an unobtainable symbol, wandering around in front of her as if she wasn’t there, the ultimate sign of her sexlessness, that he didn’t even bother to dress completely to meet with her.

No.He had said he thought her beautiful. And he was there, half-naked and ready for her.

And she found she could not keep still. She launched herself to the edge of the bed and put her hands on his chest.

She was touching him. Finally. She had seen him up close over the years, but he might as well have been behind a wall of glass. Because that was how unavailable he was to her. Looking, but never touching. And she had been so certain that she never would.

But finally, finally she was able to put her hands on him. Matteo.

She nearly wept with it, but he kissed her again, swallowing the sob even as it rose up in her throat.

She kissed him, letting her hands explore his chest, his stomach, luxuriating in the feel of his muscles, of the body hair, the heat of his skin. He was such a man. The masculine to her feminine. Hard and beautiful and unparalleled. He was everything she had ever fantasized about, and more. He was a revelation in the form of a human. For Livia felt beautiful in his arms. Felt spectacular and unique, and nothing like the poor, sad abandoned creature she had felt like for most of her days.

Because nothing could really erase that. Not the success that she had found working at the palace, not the many intervening years. It wasn’t so simple to just erase those years spent alone.

That abandonment. That trauma.

No, it would never be quite so simple. But right now, at least, she could feel something like healed. Something special, held in his arms.

He laid her down onto the bed, coming over her, a commanding warrior that made her shiver beneath his fierce gaze. She had always known that he was dangerous and had taken a great sort of satisfaction in knowing so. That she was protected by a man who was, at his core, dangerous.

But now he was hers to touch, hers to kiss. Now she could make him shudder with desire, and did, as she nipped his lower lip while he continued a bold exploration of her body. He pushed her red dress down, past her waist, her hips, drawing it completely off of her, then turning his focus to the waistband of her panties. He teased the delicate skin just beneath and she shivered. She couldn’t have fathomed that it would be like this. That he would be like this. At least, not for her. All of the women she had to get parting gifts for, who had left his bed, had been very, very sad their association had ended, and now she could see why.

For he wove delicious torture wherever he touched, left behind burn marks on her skin with the heat of his hands. And then, he allowed his fingers to inch slowly beneath that flimsy fabric, finding her center between her thighs, finding her wet and ready and filled with desire for him. He stroked her there, the pleasure that she found white-hot and brilliant. She could feel the muscles in her thighs quaking as he stroked her, long and slow, drawing circles over the most sensitive part of her. She shifted, arching her hip, and he pressed a finger deep inside of her. She cried out at the unfamiliar invasion, but then nearly wept for the beauty of it. Matteo was inside of her. And it was brilliant. And there would be more.

So much more.

And this might be it. Her last night with him. Her first night with him. But she would pour everything into this. And she would hold nothing back. Because she would be broken by leaving him. Whether they had this or not. So she would seize this fantasy for the girl who had slept on cold streets. Who had held herself while she cried. For the girl who had loved a king knowing she could never have him. Who had cried herself to sleep when he told her about his engagement to another woman.

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