Resisting Mateo (Morelli Family 5)

—

I’m dimly aware of the sound coming from my phone on the bedside table. I’m sleeping lightly enough to listen for my alarm clock, so the text message sound wakes me up just as effectively.

It’s not enough to get me out of Mateo’s arms, but he apparently doesn’t feel the same way.

“What are you doing?” I murmur sleepily as he shifts me underneath him. It’s probably too early for morning sex, and his attention isn’t on me, anyway. I roll my eyes as he grabs my cell phone off the night stand and blatantly checks the display. “Morelli men have no boundaries. None.”

He smirks as he drops back into his spot and hands me my phone. “I wanted to know who was texting you at three in the morning.”

I shake my head as I check the message myself, swiping it open. “I would never check your text messages.”

“Not even if Sal’s sister was texting me?”

My jaw drops open as he smirks and I whack him lightly in his toned stomach. “How dare you. I’ll send Adrian after that bitch. Don’t tempt me.”

His smirk turns to a grin. “I love that you think you can dispatch Adrian.”

“Adrian doesn’t like troublemaking hoes. Watch me,” I tell him. I know he was just teasing, but now that he’s brought it up, I narrow my eyes at him. “She doesn’t really have your phone number, right?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “No.”

“Good,” I mutter, looking back at my phone. “Do you want to see the pictures your sister sent me, or would you rather inspire some more homicidal thoughts?”

“The latter sounds sexier,” he admits.

I shake my head as I scroll through Francesca’s honeymoon pictures. “It’s all fun and games until I get arrested. I’m not a pro like you; I’ll just stab her in the face with the heel of my Louboutin right in front of a bunch of witnesses. Good luck getting me out of that one.”

“Eh, I could do it. Pay off some people, kill off the Good Samaritans. We should probably avoid it though. Sounds like a hassle.”

“Agreed. You don’t really wanna bang Sal’s stupid sister anyway,” I inform him.

Quirking an eyebrow, he asks, “No? What makes you so sure?”

“Several reasons. One: you love me and you know that would make me very sad.”

“That’s a pretty good reason,” he acknowledges, nodding.

“Two: you don’t want me to get arrested or restart a mob war. Sal would probably be pissed if I killed his skanky sister and it would be wholly your fault. You know I’m a crazy possessive psycho because you know I was jealous of Cherie before I knew she was Vince’s sister. You have this face, this body, and you consistently deliver multiple orgasms; assume it will be a thousand times worse with you.”

Mateo grins again, enjoying my jealousy and probably the accompanying ego stroke.

“And three: if you require more sex than you get between me and Meg, you need to check yourself into a treatment facility. I could keep up with your sex drive without any help, and you have a second sister wife to deal with, so it would be frankly insulting.”

“Those are all sound reasons. I’ll add that Sal’s sister is brunette, and Beth sort of put me off brunettes.”

“Well, at least she did one thing right,” I mutter, tilting my phone so he can see the picture on my screen. “I don’t know where they are, but look how beautiful it is.”

He glances at the picture. “I think they’re in Sardinia. It is beautiful.”

I sigh happily, looking at a picture of them grinning with a beautiful beach in the background. “I’m so glad she’s with Salvatore. He’s great. I told you that you should let them get married. I make great decisions.”

Rolling his eyes, he says dryly, “Yes, I married her off just to please you.”

“Obviously, what other reason was there?” I scroll to the next picture and show it to him. “Have you been to Italy?”

“I have.”

“I haven’t,” I volunteer, though I’m sure he could guess that. He probably doesn’t even have to guess. He probably has a folder somewhere with a detailed account of my life up to when I met him. I smile faintly, shaking my head at his crazy. “Francesca has sold me on it, though. Italy is going on my bucket list.”

“You don’t need a bucket list, you have me,” he says, securing his arm around me and tugging me into his side. “I like the Amalfi Coast; we can go there anytime you want, take a yacht out on the water. I’ll buy you a new bikini to sunbathe in—though I expect you’ll be naked most of the time. I have multiple orgasms to deliver, after all.”

I grin. “Oh, yeah?”

He nods. “I normally give vacations for birthday presents anyway. Another year older, another stamp on your passport.”