Page 36 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Matteo

I stare at Hazel.

Fuck . She's magnificent when she's like this—all fire and steel beneath that delicate exterior. The tears still glisten on her cheeks but her eyes have hardened with resolve.

My gaze travels down her body without my permission—taking in the curve of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the nipped waist and swell of her hips.

Even in borrowed clothes, with her hair tangled from couch-sleep and face flushed from crying, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

When my eyes return to her face I find her observing me, awareness dawning in her expression. A slight blush creeps across her cheeks as she realizes exactly what I'm thinking.

I step closer, drawn to her like gravity. "We could go upstairs" I suggest, my voice rougher than I meant. "Take some time to... reconsider our options."

Her lips part slightly, a small gasp escaping as she catches my meaning. The blush deepens, spreading down her neck.

"Matteo," she whispers, my name sounding like both a question and an answer on her lips.

Blood rushes in my ears. The garden around us fades away until there's nothing but Hazel—her scent, her warmth, the pulse visibly fluttering at her neck. I want to taste that pulse point, to feel her heartbeat against my tongue.

I don't wait for her to change her mind. I scoop Hazel into my arms, cradling her against my chest. She weighs almost nothing, her body warm and soft against mine.

"Matteo!" she gasps, her arms instinctively wrapping around my neck.

I don't respond, just stride purposefully across the garden toward the house. Her clothes cling in the breeze, exposing more of her legs with each step. The sight of her bare skin makes my blood run hot.

"Someone might see," she whispers but the protest is weak.

"Let them," I growl, tightening my grip.

Her breath catches and her fingers dig into my shoulders. I feel her heartbeat accelerate against my chest as I carry her through the darkened mansion. The few security guards on night duty avert their eyes as we pass, knowing better than to acknowledge what they're seeing.

When we reach her room I kick the door shut behind us and set her on her feet.

The moonlight streaming through the windows bathes her in silver, making her look ethereal.

For a moment, I just drink her in—the tousled honey-blonde hair, those hazel eyes wide with anticipation, the way her chest rises and falls in plump bounces with each quickened breath.

"I need you naked," I tell her, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Spread legs open on the bed."

She blinks, momentarily frozen by my directness.

"Now," I command, not breaking eye contact.

Her expression shifts—a flash of heat, of surrender—before she reaches her sweater. She pulls it over her head in one smooth motion, revealing inch by inch of perfect skin. She slides her pants and underwear down her thighs and steps daintily out of them, goddess-naked.

She's fucking perfect.

Hazel moves to the bed, graceful despite her nervousness.

She lowers to sit on the edge, her eyes never leaving mine, holding them captive, then slowly reclines, her hair fanning out across the pillow.

There's a moment of hesitation, an almost imperceptible part of her lips before she opens her legs for me.

I approach the bed, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it aside. "I've been thinking about this all day," I tell her, my eyes raking over her luscious flesh as I kneel at the foot of the bed. "About tasting you again."

Her breath hitches. "Matteo..."

"I want to enjoy my feast now," I say, settling between her thighs, "if you don't mind."

Her back arches at my words, a small, needy sound escaping her lips. The scent of her arousal intoxicates me, making my mouth water. I place my hands on her inner thighs, pushing them wider apart, exposing her completely to my gaze.

"Beautiful," I murmur, lowering my head.

At the first touch of my tongue to her center Hazel's entire body quakes. I take my time, exploring her with long, deliberate strokes, relearning what makes her gasp and what makes her moan. Her taste floods my senses—sweet and addictive—as I circle her most sensitive spot.

Her fingers find their way into my hair, gripping tightly as I increase the pressure. I glance up to find her watching me, her lips parted, eyes half-closed with pleasure.

I stroke my tongue firmly against her, finding the perfect rhythm that makes her thighs tremble. Her taste is provocatively sweet and uniquely hers. I grip her thighs harder, holding her in place as she writhes beneath my mouth.

"Matteo," she gasps, her voice breaking. "Oh God..."

I double down, focusing on that sensitive bundle of nerves while sliding two fingers inside her. The combination makes her back arch off the bed, a strangled cry escaping her lips. I curl my fingers, finding that spot that makes her?—

"Fuck!" she cries out, her entire body tensing.

And then it happens—her release crashes through her with such force that she floods my mouth, her essence coating my face as she squirts with the intensity of her orgasm.

The taste of her arousal intensifies, making me groan into her delectable juice.

I don't stop, drinking her in, savoring every drop as she pulses violently against my tongue.

Her thighs clamp my head as aftershocks ripple through her body. When I finally pull back, my face glistening with her release, I find her staring at me with wild, shocked eyes.

"Oh God..." she whispers, her chest heaving.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, unable to stop the satisfied smirk spreading across my face. "Delicious," I tell her, licking my lips deliberately. "I could feast on you all night."

Her cheeks flush deep, embarrassment and arousal battling in her expression. I crawl up her body, bracing myself above her, letting her see exactly what she does to me.

"Matteo," she whispers, reaching up to touch my face. "I need you."

I capture her wrist, bringing her fingers to my lips. "Tell me exactly what you need, bella," I demand softly. "I want to hear you say it."

"I need you inside me," she says, insistent and hungry. "I need to feel you... all of you."

My cock throbs painfully at her words, straining against my pants. But I need more.

"Be specific," I demand. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

"I need you to fuck me, Matteo. Hard. I need to feel you so deep that I forget everything else."

Jesus Christ. My dick feels like it might explode right there. I've never wanted anyone the way I want her.

I tear at my shirt like a wild man, the buttons go skittering across the room. Her eyes glisten like crystal as she watches me strip, her gaze trailing down my chest and abs to where my erection strains at my pants. When I shed those too, her lips part on a soft inhale.

I reach for my wallet, extracting a condom. Her eyes never leave me as I roll it on, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in anticipation.

I push into her with one powerful thrust, burying myself to the hilt. We both groan at the sensation—she's so tight, so wet, so perfect around me. I have to pause, gritting my teeth against the overwhelming pleasure threatening to end this too soon.

"Fuck," I mutter, bracing myself above her. "You feel incredible."

I begin to move, setting a rhythm that has her gasping with each thrust. One hand finds her breast, kneading the soft flesh, pinching her nipple between my fingers.

"Look at me," I command, wanting to witness every flicker of pleasure cross her face. "I want to watch you come apart for me again."

She obeys and bonds her eyes with mine as I increase my pace, driving into her harder, deeper. The headboard slams against the wall with the force of my thrusts but I couldn't care less who might hear us.

"Matteo," she moans, her nails digging into my back. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I angle my pelvis, hitting that spot inside her that makes her cry out. Her inner walls begin to flutter around me, signaling that she's close.

"Come for me," I growl, feeling my own release building. "Come with me, bella."

Her body obeys, clenching around me like a vise as she shatters. The sight of her coming undone—eyes wide with pleasure, my name shouting from her lips—pushes me over the edge. I thrust deep one final time, groaning as my orgasm tears through me, our releases perfectly synchronized.

Hazel

Matteo collapses onto the bed, pulling me into his chest while my entire body hums with aftershocks. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer into the solid warmth of his body.

The intensity of my release still has me trembling. I'd forgotten that sensation—that overwhelming, earth-shattering feeling of completely losing control. The way my body just... let go.

"I forgot that could happen," I whisper against his skin.

Matteo's chest rumbles with a low chuckle. "What? The squirting?"

I bury my face against him, embarrassment mixing with the lingering pleasure. "Yes. That."

His hand strokes down my back, tracing my spine with gentle fingers. "It's fucking beautiful," he murmurs. "The way your body responds to me."

His arms tighten around me and I feel a kiss pressed to the top of my head. There's something possessive in the gesture that should frighten me but doesn't.

We lie there in comfortable silence, our breathing synchronized, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on my skin.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, tilting my head to study his face.

Matteo's expression is uncharacteristically soft, almost vulnerable. He seems to consider my question carefully before answering.

"It's strange," he begins, his voice rough. "This feeling." His brow furrows as he searches for words. "Knowing that I’ve missed out on years of... of moments like this. With you."

I blink up at him, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice.

"Three years," he continues, "that I could have been making you feel this way. Making you... do that thing."

A laugh bubbles up from my chest before I can stop it. His attempt at romance is so endearingly awkward, so unlike his usual confident manner.

Matteo's eyes lift at my laughter, then narrow playfully. "You laughing at me, bella?"

"Maybe a little," I admit, still giggling.

Instead of being offended his expression softens further, a sort of wonder crossing his features. "Even that," he says, his voice softly husking. "Your laugh. I would beg to hear that before taking my last breath."

My laughter fades as I register the intensity in his eyes.

"I would trade my life just to hear you laugh like that," he continues, his thumb brushing across my cheek. "When you truly mean it. When it comes from deep inside you."

The sincerity in his voice steals my breath. This isn't the smooth-talking enforcer or the dangerous man who threatens my abusive husband. This is just Matteo, laying himself bare.

"You don't have to trade anything," I whisper, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. "I'm right here."

His eyes darken as he captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "For how long?"

The question hangs between us, weighted with implications neither of us is ready to face. My divorce, his deadly lifestyle, the complications that surround us at every angle.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "But I'm here now."

Matteo nods, accepting my answer for what it is—the most I can offer right now. He pulls me closer, tucking my head beneath his chin.

"Then I'll take now," he murmurs against my hair. "And tomorrow. And however many days you'll give me."