I’d been kissed only once before in my life, by a man I’d found odious. As Matteo’s lips came down on mine I instinctively braced myself for a similar experience—bad breath, slimy tongue, pawing hands.
It took only a millisecond for me to realise how ridiculous that notion was, how little I had to fear, and yet at the same time how much. Matteo’s kiss was as different from the first one I’d had as the ocean to a mud puddle.
His mouth possessed mine as he explored it with sensual thoroughness, obliterating thought and weakening my knees, his tongue and lips moving in a dance as old as the ages and yet feeling startlingly new. How could a kiss do so much? It was practically a weapon.
But he didn’t stop with a kiss. His hands moved from my waist to my breast, his palm cupping it with that same deft and shocking assuredness, his thumb running over the peak. I mewled. I actually mewled. I felt as if I didn’t know myself any more—this creature who melted like candle wax, who clamoured for more. Because I wanted more from him—more than a kiss, a caress. In that moment I wanted it all.
Without even realising what I was doing, I clenched my hands on the lapels of his tuxedo and opened my mouth under his, inviting him in. I stood on my tiptoes and swayed as he anchored his hands on my hips and tugged me towards him.
My hips collided with that particularly impressive and overwhelming part of his anatomy, and it was enough to send a blast of icy realisation through me.
I stumbled back.
What was I doing? What was he doing?
‘Don’t!’ I managed to gasp, even though everything in me was reeling, my senses exploding like fireworks as if my whole body had come alive under his hands, my skin still prickling with need.
‘Are you sure you mean that?’
Besides a slight flush on his blade-like cheekbones, Matteo looked remarkably unaffected. He sank his hands into his pockets, his gaze terribly cool. The realisation that his kiss had affected me far more than it had him was utterly humiliating, and sudden unfortunate tears stung my eyes.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I think I could convince you otherwise.’
Already the flush had left his face and he stood there, the archetype of assured arrogance, his shoulders thrust back, his jaw set, his eyes glittering—while I was still raggedly panting, my heart rate skittering all over the place.
‘Only to prove a point,’ I choked out as I willed my flush to fade and my heart to slow. ‘You’ve told me enough times already.’
‘What?’
He raised his eyebrows, sounding distinctly nonplussed by my statement. Did he not remember? Had he not realised how insultingly clear he’d been about making sure this was a marriage in name only? Didn’t he recall the scathing look he’d given me, the reassurance that he would have no need to take advantage?
Which, of course, had been what I wanted too. Still wanted. It was just that his contrary kiss had rocked me for a second. I was already recovering—or so I told myself.
I lifted my chin, heedless of the tears that I knew still sparkled in my eyes. ‘Come on, Matteo. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t find me...desirable.’ Stupidly, it hurt to say the words out loud.
Matteo gave me a smugly amused look, his lips curving, a surprising dimple appearing in one cheek. I realised I’d never actually seen him smile before—not properly.
‘I think I just proved to you otherwise.’
‘You were proving something,’ I agreed, unable to keep hurt from lacing every word. ‘But I think it had more to do with power than need.’
The dark slashes of his eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘You didn’t want me going ahead with an annulment...doing something that isn’t sanctioned and signed off by you. I get it.’
I shook my head, suddenly exhausted, both emotionally and physically, with the aftershocks of his touch still zinging through me. It had taken all my emotional reserves to survive this encounter, after three years of peace and qu
iet and solitude.
What had I been thinking, coming here with my request? Knowing Matteo Dias would refuse it? Because I realised that while I still longed for a child, a family, the need as deep and fervent as ever, I didn’t have the strength to fight my husband for my freedom. Not when he held all the cards and had all the power.
‘You think that’s why I kissed you?’ Matteo demanded, sounding irritated by the idea.
I raised my shoulders in a weary shrug. ‘Are you saying differently—that you were suddenly overcome by passion for me and couldn’t control yourself?’ I let out a humourless laugh. ‘As if.’
Matteo’s frown deepened and he didn’t reply. His narrowed gaze was assessing and, I feared, would dismiss me in the space of a few seconds.