Desire in Lingerie (Lingerie 7)

“Yes.”

His blue eyes weren’t so terrifying anymore, not when there was so much relief in his expression. He gave a slight nod then turned around and walked away.

I stayed at the railing and watched him walk until he disappeared into the darkness. When he was gone, I felt chilled down to the bone. His body produced a fire like flames in a hearth, and he kept me warm regardless of where we were. But once he left, he took all that comfort away. He even took my heart with him.

Matteo was the kind of guy that would have made me weak before I met Bones. He was handsome, confident, and interesting. I liked his dark eyes and skin, along with the deep sound of his voice.

I wanted to take Matteo seriously and push for some kind of future, but that was impossible when I only cared about the man who’d just walked away. I didn’t even want Matteo to come over anymore. I just wanted to go to bed and think about the man I couldn’t have.

Matteo came inside and glanced around my apartment. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and the painting I was currently working on sat on the easel by the window. He stripped off his blazer and hung it by the door before he stepped farther inside. His shirt stretched across his muscular shoulders and toned arms. “You have a nice place.”

“No, I don’t,” I said with a chuckle. “But I appreciate you saying that. I’m still in my starving artist phase.”

He smiled then walked over to my painting. “This is what you’re working on right now?”

“Yep. It doesn’t look like much, but once the details are painted out, it’ll make more sense.”

“So your process is to start with the point of interest first and then fill in stuff around it?”

“Yeah. The subject of the piece is the most important, and everything around is supposed to elevate it.”

He nodded as he kept looking. “Your father mentioned you sold all your pieces at the winery. Doesn’t seem like you’re a starving artist anymore.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it. I just gave my mom two more to sell.”

He turned to me, wearing a sexy smolder with his coffee-colored eyes. The light from the fireplace hit him just right, highlighting the masculine sculpture of his face. He seemed more interested in me than the painting.

I made a promise to Bones, and now I had to keep it, even though I’d explicitly invited this man over for sex. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Well, all I ever drink is wine. Is that okay?”

“Perfectly okay.”

I grabbed a bottle and poured two glasses before I set them on the coffee table. I made sure we stuck to the living room and didn’t go anywhere near my bedroom.

Matteo sat beside me on the couch and drank his wine, his eyes moving to the fireplace.

As the silence stretched, I felt the tension between us. There was a charge in the air, an attraction. I was sitting beside the ideal man I wanted to date, a respectable person who valued family the same way I did, but I didn’t want it to go anywhere. The smart thing to do would be to forget about Bones and sleep with Matteo as many times as possible to get Bones out of my system. But I didn’t want Matteo’s kiss or his touch. I wanted a man so wrong for me.

“I really want to kiss you.” Matteo broke the silence with his deep voice. “The way the flames are illuminating your face, you look so beautiful. And instead of telling you that, I would normally just do it, but something is telling me you don’t want me to. Am I wrong?” He set his wineglass on the table, his mocha brown eyes glued to me.

I held my wineglass a little tighter. “No, you’re not wrong…”

Matteo’s expression didn’t change, his disappointment bottled deep inside.

“I’m all over the place right now—”

“Then I’ll enjoy my glass of wine and your company for a bit before I leave. Tell me more about your artwork.”

I appreciated the way he let me off the hook and didn’t ask for an explanation for my erratic behavior. He just let it be, moving on to the next subject so casually. He was invited over here with the expectation of sex, but now he wasn’t even getting a kiss. But as if that didn’t really matter, he moved past it. He was a gentleman, keeping his cool even though he drove over here for no reason at all. I suspected his polite behavior stemmed from his connection to my father. He knew his head would be on a platter if I told my father he’d been anything but kind to me. “I feel like all we’ve talked about is me. How about we talk about you?”