Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
And then my hands are on her.
One cups the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, while the other grips her waist, warm and steady.
I study her face, searching for any sign that she's still hurting from yesterday.
That she's still thinking about that prick who thought he could treat her like she was nothing.
"Long day?"
She sighs. "Very."
"Good thing I came over to help you unwind, then."
I tilt my head, letting my lips brush over hers in a featherlight tease.
"Help me unwind?" she repeats, her pulse ticking faster beneath my fingers. "I don't remember requesting your services, Rossi."
"What can I say?” I smirk. “I’ve been watching you since the day you arrived, giornalista. I know how to anticipate your needs."
Before she can respond, I kiss her, all slow and deep. I taste her, and fuck, it’s not enough.
It’s never enough.
She melts against me, and her hands move to my chest, her fingers gripping at my shirt like she needs something to hold onto.
I take my time peeling her blouse off, dragging it up over her head and tossing it aside.
And then I look at her.
My chest tightens. My cock twitches.
"Dio, look at you," I mutter.
A flush creeps up her neck, but before she can say anything, I lift her into my arms. She squeals, laughing softly as she wraps her legs around my waist, clinging to me.
"Not wasting any time tonight, I see," she teases, a little breathless already.
"I've been thinking about you all fucking day," I growl, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. "Could barely focus at training. All I could think about was your mouth... your body... how fucking good you feel."
Her breath catches. I feel her thighs tighten around my waist.
And then, I remember him.
That smug, pathetic excuse of a man who dared to make her cry.
A dark edge seeps into my voice as I carry her into her bedroom, dropping her onto the mattress.
"And then," I continue, standing at the foot of the bed, watching the way she props herself up on her elbows, "I kept thinking about him. About how he made you feel like you don’t belong. How he made you doubt yourself."
Daphne opens her mouth, her expression shifting, but I cut her off.
"Don’t." My jaw clenches. "Don’t worry about anything. I made a promise to you, and I mean it. I’m handling it."
Her eyes search mine. "What does that mean?"
"It means I’ve made some calls," I say simply. "Mark's reputation was shit long before you got here. All I did was nudge a few people to take a closer look at his recent work and behaviour."
I tilt my head, letting my smirk turn razor-sharp.
"Let's just say… the wheels are in motion."
Her brows furrow. "I'm not sure -"
"Do you trust me?"
Her breath stills, and I watch as the answer forms in her eyes before she even speaks it.
"Yes," she whispers. "Of course I do."
"Good."
I hold her gaze for another beat, letting her feel the weight of that promise.
And then my smirk turns wicked as I reach for the waistband of her flared trousers.
"Now..." I murmur, voice dipping lower. "Let me help you forget that asshole for a while."
I glide them down her legs, my fingers dragging over the smooth, bare skin of her thighs, and I hear the way her breath stutters.
"Matteo…"
"The only man you should be thinking about tonight is me."
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but then I press my mouth to the inside of her thigh, teeth scraping lightly against sensitive skin.
And despite herself, despite everything, she fucking moans.
I chuckle darkly against her skin.
"That’s what I thought."
Chapter Fifty-One
Matteo
Hours later, we’re tangled in her bed, limbs intertwined, skin slick with sweat.
The sheets are halfway off the mattress, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, and I’ve got an arm slung possessively around her waist.
My body is heavy with exhaustion, but I don’t mind it. Not when she’s here.
Daphne rests her head against my chest, her fingers moving in slow, lazy patterns over my stomach. Her touch is soft, easy and absentminded, but it does something to me anyway.
Makes me feel settled in a way I probably shouldn’t.
I hum, the sound vibrating through my chest, contentment bleeding through my veins.
"Do you do that much cardio every day at training?" she asks, her voice raspy from exertion.
I chuckle, my grip on her waist tightening just slightly. "Nope. This was extra."
"For me?" she teases.
"Of course." I press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the lingering scent of her shampoo. "I’m a dedicated athlete, giornalista. I always go the extra mile."
She snorts, her breath warm against my skin. "I think you went an extra three miles tonight."
"Hmm. You kept up pretty well."
She lifts her head to glare at me, and I grin because I love getting under her skin.