Page 237 of The Havenport Collection

Eliza

I had been babysitting for Valentina for two weeks.

So for two weeks I had managed to keep my panties on in front of Matteo.

Two. Whole. Weeks. That should qualify me for a Nobel Prize or at least some kind of medal.

I was not known for my self-restraint, and his sexy scowl was unraveling me by the day.

It had actually been a pretty great two weeks.

I was getting back on a normal sleep schedule and had been meeting my friends, going to Krav Maga class with Gina, and spent some quality time with my parents.

And I was hanging out with Valentina most days, helping her with her homework and driving her around as needed.

She was decent company, and I enjoyed singing along to Taylor Swift with her.

I was shocked at how much I did not miss the hospital.

In a few weeks, my administrative leave would be over, and I’d have to go back and face the music, but for now, I wanted to enjoy my freedom.

But Matteo was another story. After the night I kissed his cheek, he had been even more grumpy and unapproachable than ever. But every so often I caught him staring at my ass. And maybe I had been wearing my tightest leggings to tempt him? Was that so bad?

I was impulsive. If I wanted ice cream, I ate it. If I wanted a new pair of shoes, I bought them. And right now, I was consumed with the desire to strip naked and lick every inch of his manly body.

Because he was Grade A+ man meat, and I was a starving woman.

He was tall, with broad shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist. He always wore old jeans that hugged his round ass perfectly and a waffle-knit Henley shirt.

Unless he had his chef coat on, which meant he was wearing a white tank top underneath.

Those tank tops haunted my dreams, ever since I caught sight of his arms one day at his house.

I almost walked straight into a wall. Holy mother of biceps.

Now, in addition to fantasizing about the feel of his scruff on my inner thighs, my brain liked to ruminate on the feel of those strong arms around me.

So when Matteo invited me to family night at Nonna’s Kitchen, I couldn’t say no. Once a month, Matteo closed early on a Friday night and had his extended family and friends over to try out some new recipes and catch up. I was honored to be invited, and he insisted I bring my friends along as well.

The twins were busy, so Gina, Sylvie, and I headed over.

I was nervous. This wasn’t my first Rossi family function—I had been friends with Gina since childhood—but this felt like something more.

I dressed carefully, choosing super-tight high-waisted jeans and a slouchy purple cardigan that showed just a hint of cleavage.

I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but I was definitely trying.

When I arrived, I was greeted by the entire Rossi clan. Gio had dragged in a massive cooler of beer, and Nora was over by the vintage jukebox, carefully choosing music.

The mood was festive, and a bunch of kids, including Valentina, zoomed around, laughing and playing.

I could see Matteo in the kitchen with his dad and brother Bruno, joking around and cooking.

The Rossis had owned Cuccina Liguria, a fancy Italian restaurant in Havenport, since before I was born.

I knew Bruno was a very accomplished chef, having gone to culinary school and studying in Italy.

So it was nice to see them all together, cutting loose.

We spent several hours eating, drinking, and dancing.

Gina’s older brother Carlo was there with his best friend, Finn, and the five of us caught up for a long time.

Gina had been crushing on Finn since elementary school, so it was no surprise she wanted to talk to him.

But I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes softened when he looked at her.

Sylvie caught my eye and discreetly raised an eyebrow.

I nodded—we would certainly be discussing this development later.

After a few hours, Matteo’s sister-in-law, Barb, took all the kids home for a sleepover, including Val, who came over and gave me a big hug goodbye.

She and her cousin Izzy had plans to watch Moana and sing all the songs.

Various others filtered out, and I volunteered to help clean up as things wound down.

Gio gave me a pair of rubber gloves and taught me how to wipe down the tables. I didn’t even realize how late it was by the time he said goodbye, giving me a wink on his way out.

It was then that I looked into the open kitchen and realized that Matteo and I were alone. My nipples sprang to attention, not wanting to miss out on the fun, and I snuck a glance at him. He was cleaning and humming to himself, and I clenched my legs together. I wanted him so badly.

I tended to be a jump first and ask questions later type of gal.

When I liked someone, I had a really hard time concealing it.

In seventh grade, I went up to Tyler Golding at the winter formal and asked him to dance to “Stairway to Heaven” with me.

And after, I said, “You’re my boyfriend now.

” We dated for three months, during which we probably spoke a half dozen times.

But that was who I was. I wasn’t patient; I didn’t play the long game.

When I wanted something, I went after it.

And I wanted Matteo. Badly. It wasn’t just that he was so easy on the eyes, but he was such a devoted father.

And he was so passionate about his business.

And beneath the gruff, cool exterior, I suspected there was a fiery animal underneath.

I liked to kiss first and ask questions later, because there was no use having a crush on someone if they were a shitty kisser or if there wasn’t any chemistry. Why spend days or weeks dancing around when you could just stick your tongue in their mouth?

I thought about him all day, and I dreamed about him all night. I watched his scarred hands work and fantasized about them all over my body. And this was no schoolgirl crush. I had experienced plenty of those. This was full, grown-ass woman lust. And it was getting harder to contain by the day.

It was also getting harder and harder to hide from my roommate, who did not appreciate me drooling all over her cousin. She had given me a stern look earlier when she left to drive Sylvie home. I told her I’d see her back at the apartment and feigned innocence.

Because if he gave me the green light, I was going to make a move. I wasn’t afraid to go after what I wanted, and I had caught him checking me out enough to know that he was at least a little bit interested.

Matteo was very different from my usual type—men-children who loved video games, skateboarding, and weed, usually in that order, and who generally lacked gainful employment, housing, or had questionable hygiene.

But I was growing and changing, and I wanted different things now.

I still had Miss Cleo’s words swirling around in my head, and I was beginning to think a soulmate might not be a bad thing.

Before I could formulate a game plan, Matteo was in the dining room, leaning on the counter. His chef coat was unbuttoned, and I could see his muscular chest through the white tank he wore underneath. His skin was tanned, and there was a tiny bit of dark chest hair visible.

“You don’t have to help me clean.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind. And I am so grateful for all the delicious food. It’s the least I can do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What did you like?”

I paused and tapped my chin. “Everything. The asparagus risotto was incredible. I wanted to lick the bowl. But those profiteroles. Yum.”

He smiled, and I almost died of shock. Matteo Rossi was not a smiler.

But here he was grinning at me, eyes shining and dimples popping.

It was at the moment when my crush transformed into full-blown obsession.

I wanted to make him smile again, preferably while on my knees.

My brain spun with possibilities as I tried to focus on the task at hand.

“I’m going to double-check that Nick finished the kitchen checklist. Then I’ll come out and help you.”

I nodded and went back to wiping, grabbing my spray bottle and heading toward the back corner of the dining area.

I carefully scrubbed down the booths, swaying to the music, and pretty soon I was in a good rhythm.

My parents loved The Rat Pack, so I knew all the words to the Sinatra song that’s playing.

I moved on from the booths to the small tables, glancing out at the town beyond the large windows.

It was late, and things were slowing down, but there were people walking downtown and the store fronts were all lit up, making everything feel so bright and inviting.

I would never get tired of the magic of this place.

Speaking of magic. I made the tragic mistake of turning around from the window to find Matteo standing behind the counter, staring at me.

He had lost the chef jacket, and his muscular arms were crossed over his chest. My eyes danced over the tattoos along his arms, picking out a whisk on his left forearm and something that looked like a chef’s knife on the other side.

I wanted to trace them with my tongue. His low-slung jeans were doing the Lord’s work, making my mouth water.

I stopped singing, stopped dancing, and stood awkwardly holding a dishrag.

“You don’t have to stop.” His voice was husky.

“Sorry if I annoyed you,” I said, pushing my hair behind my ears. “I’m sure my singing is like nails on a chalkboard.”

He quirked one eyebrow. “I was enjoying the show.”

Oof. That hit me like a ton of bricks. I stood up a little straighter and stared at him, letting my eyes soak in all his masculine glory. Those arms were doing something to me. Something that threatened to make me very irresponsible.

He was doing nothing to hide his attraction to me. I could feel my cheeks warm as his eyes roamed all over my body. I wasn’t imagining this. It wasn’t one-sided. The pull between us was just too strong.

I left the rag on the table and walked slowly toward him. He never took his eyes off me, and my body tingled from the intensity of his gaze.

“Do you want to dance with me?” I asked, biting my lip.

I watched his body tense. His fingers gripped the edge of the countertop tightly, and I watched his jaw clench. He was holding himself back. Silly man, didn’t he know how much I wanted to see his wild side?

I held his gaze and bit my lip, watching his restraint fail.

I could barely breathe. All the oxygen had been sucked out of the room as we stared at one another.

The more I felt his eyes on me, the more I watched him try to hold back, the more I was convinced that he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

And that realization lit a fire of confidence within me.

I bit my lip and crooked my finger, beckoning him toward me.

Matteo stepped out from around the counter and walked toward me, stopping when we were just inches apart.

I watched the rise and fall of his chest.

“Well?” I said, as Frankie Valli sang from the jukebox.

I needed to touch him. To make sure he was real and standing inches away from me. I reached out and ran my finger along his bicep, tracing a thick vein down the center.

I looked up at him and saw his intense concentration. His brow was furrowed, and he looked angry. But it only made me want him more.

He grabbed my wrist firmly before my hand could wander farther. “This,” he said through gritted teeth, “is a bad idea.”

He kept hold of my wrist, and I gazed up at him.

I wanted Matteo. I didn’t really care about anything else in this moment except learning what his lips tasted like. I wasn’t known for my self-control. If I had a donut, I would eat the donut.

And Matteo was one tall, tasty snack, and I was not going to say no.

We danced silently for a moment before he looked down at me and frowned. “I’m too old for you, Eliza.”

I rolled my eyes at him, ignoring his lame protests. He was clearly enjoying this as much as I was.

“And I’m not really the dating type.” He took a step closer, and our chests were flush. My heart was pounding in my ears, and my nipples were practically dancing in my bra cups.

I looked up at his face coyly. “Who’s talking about dating?”

He let out a breath.

“I just like you and like spending time with you. Sorry to offend.” I held up my hands in apology.

His eyes were focused on my lips, and I prayed he would just kiss me already.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are young and pretty and so full of life. Get out there and find an amazing guy. Don’t waste your time mopping floors with me.” His jaw was tight, and I could see his shoulder muscles straining.

I could see how hard he was fighting it. And I knew I had to be brave for both of us. I closed the distance between us, laying my hand on his heaving chest. “I’m not wasting my time. Plus, I am enjoying the view.” I looked up at him as my hand trailed down his stomach to land on his belt buckle.

His face flushed and he gasped.

Did I just make Mr. Grumpy McHottie blush? Oh, it was on.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned in, savoring the feel of his body close to mine. “Just dance with me,” I whispered. “Don’t overthink it.”

He hesitated before wrapping his strong arms around my waist as we swayed to the music. He smelled amazing—masculine and fresh and so damn sexy.

“It’s been decades since I slow danced with a pretty girl,” he purred into my ear.

My heart was pounding in my ears. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

He smiled and twirled me around, catching me firmly as I bumped into his firm chest. I let out a laugh. “You’re a good dancer.”

“That’s nothing,” he replied as he dipped me deeply, pausing while his strong arms were the only thing keeping me from falling to the floor. Our faces were inches apart, and his smile was mischievous. I liked this side of him.

He pulled me close, crooning the lyrics softly in my ear as we swayed to the music. Our bodies were flush, chests heaving, and I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.