Chapter 63
Matteo’s POV
The morning air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from the night before. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my body still taut with the femnants of restraint. Last night tested my limits in ways I hadn’t expected. The teasing, the provocation–Aria has no idea what she’s doing to me. Or maybe she does.
Exhaling sharply, I run a hand down my face, willing the heat lingering in my veins to dissipate. It’s dangerous, the way she unravels me without even trying. The way she looks at me, challenges me, makes me want things I’m not sure I can afford to want.
Instead of heading downstairs, I find myself at her door. My body moves on instinct, driven by something I refuse to name. I shouldn’t be here. I know that. But that knowledge does nothing to stop me from pushing the door open just enough to peek inside.
She’s curled beneath the blankets, her wild hair spilling over the pillow. The golden rays of morning light kiss her bare shoulder, making my fingers twitch with the urge to trace the delicate skin there. She looks so small, so fragile.
But I know better.
Beneath that quiet exterior burns a fire, one that has been flickering dangerously close to consuming us both.
She shifts in her sleep, her brows knitting together as if she can feel my gaze even in unconsciousness. My chest tightens. I should leave.
But I don’t.
Not right away.
Only when the need to reach out becomes unbearable do I step back and shut the door, forcing myself to put distance between us.
By the time I make it downstairs, Enzo and Dante are already at the table, sipping coffee. The moment Aria enters the room, I feel it–the shift in the air, thick with unspoken tension.
She hesitates in the doorway, like she’s debating turning around and leaving. But then, with a small, almost imperceptible breath, she straightens her shoulders and takes her seat.
I watch her fingers tremble slightly as she picks up her fork.
Enzo smirks, nudging Dante. “She’s quiet this morning.”
I shoot him a warning look, but Aria doesn’t react. She just keeps eating, her expression carefully blank. It bothers me more than it should.
After breakfast, I find her outside near the stables, running her fingers through the mane of one of the horses. She looks lost in thought, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.
My jaw clenches. I know that look, Overthinking. Doubting.
I approach slowly, keeping my voice softer than usual. “You okay?”
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Chapter 63
She nods, but I don’t buy it. Her hands tighten in the horse’s mane like she needs something solid to hold onto.
I reach out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. It’s barely a touch, but she tenses beneath it. Not in fear–no, something else. Something that makes my blood run hot.
“We didn’t mean to mess with your head last night,” I murmur.
She finally meets my gaze, and damn if the weight of it doesn’t knock the breath from my lungs.
“Then why did you?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I swallow hard. I want to tell her the truth. That she’s driving me insane. That every time I close my eyes, all I see is her. That I’m losing control, and it scares me more than I care to admit.
Instead, I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair. “Because we want you. But not just for a night, Aria. Not like
that.”
She blinks, emotions warring in her eyes–confusion, hesitation… and longing.
I hesitate for only a moment before stepping closer, my fingers brushing against hers where they rest on the horse’s mane. It’s barely a touch, but I feel the way she shivers, the way she tries to hide it. I notice anyway. Slowly, deliberately, I turn her hand over, my thumb tracing the delicate lines of her palm. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” I murmur, my voice
low, intimate.
She swallows hard, her breathing uneven. “I’m not-” she starts, but I tilt my head, locking my gaze onto hers, daring her to finish that lie. She exhales sharply, looking away, but I don’t let go. Instead, I lift her hand, bringing it to my lips, pressing a slow kiss to her knuckles. She stills, her pulse thrumming beneath my touch.
“Tell me to stop,” I challenge softly, my breath warm against her skin. But she doesn’t. And that–more than anything- tells me everything I need to know.
Her silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, but she still doesn’t pull away. I can feel the way her pulse flutters beneath my thumb, quick and unsteady, matching the shallow rise and fall of her chest. I should step back, give her space, but I don’t. Instead, I shift even closer, my free hand lifting to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. My fingers linger, tracing
the delicate curve of her jaw.
Her breath hitches, and for a brief second, she leans into me–so slight, so hesitant that I might’ve missed it if I weren’t already watching her so damn closely. My grip tightens around her hand, grounding us both. “You drive me insane, Aria,” I murmur, my voice rougher now, more raw. “Do you even realize what you’re doing to me?”
She finally meets my eyes, something unreadable swirling in her gaze. “You think this is easy for me?” she whispers.
Her words hit harder than I expect, a confession wrapped in defiance. And just like that, the last thread of restraint I’ve
been holding onto starts to fray.
Before I can respond, Enzo’s voice rings out from the house, calling my name.
I clench my fists, forcing myself to take a step back. Every part of me screams to stay, to press her for an answer, to settle
this now. But I don’t.
Instead, I turn, throwing a glance over my shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”
The weight of our conversation hangs between us, thick and unresolved. And as I walk away, I know one thing for certain.
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Chapter 63
This isn’t over.
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