Page 162 of Vicious Intentions
Chapter 35
Annamaria
Strong hands lift me from the bench, warmth settling all around me. I feel myself stir in Matteo’s arms, but sleep won’t allow me to wake. Especially when my dream is better than my reality. I’m enveloped in a soft glow that carries me, as if I’m weightless in the air. I’m so light, so light that I feel like I might drift away. Still, I’m not afraid. Because the light will never let me fall. He would never allow it.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re almost there,” his deep, raspy voice whispers in my ear.
In my dream, I hear myself moan at the sound, nestling my head on his shoulder as my arms cling around his neck. He’s so warm. So very warm. I’ve been out in the cold for far too long.
The familiar scent of his cologne surrounds me, so intoxicating that I lean closer, craving more of it. I press my lips to the source, the faint taste of salt and something distinctly masculine making me smile.
“Fuck,” he curses, and suddenly I’m no longer floating weightlessly in the air. My brows furrow, not liking that we’vestopped. Thankfully, after a few seconds, I drift again, only to be gently laid onto cool sheets and a firm mattress.
Good. This is better.
On second thought, maybe it’s not.
It’s not better. I’m cold again. Why am I always so cold?
The mattress dips behind me, and suddenly I feel his heat calling to me. I inch closer, drawn in by his scent, my lips finding their home once more. I kiss and linger, nipping softly, until I’m fully wrapped in the most heavenly cocoon.
“Anna… sweetheart. Fuck… you’re fucking killing me right now.”
“Shh,” I murmur. “This is a dream. Don’t ruin my dream,Caro Mio.”
I snuggle into him, draping my leg over his muscular thigh, my hand finding his chest. I frown when I feel fabric beneath my fingertips instead of the smooth skin I long for.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers.
“I want to feel you. Why can’t I ever feel you?”
“Jesus… fuck,” he mutters, followed by a hard swallow. “Maybe one day,vita mia. Now go to sleep, okay? Just sleep. For both our sakes.”
I don’t want to, but like all things in my life, it seems I don’t have a choice. Before I know it, sleep pulls me further under its spell, and all the warmth I felt is gone. The cold, black abyss is the only thing that waits for me. That and the splattered blood of everyone I love.
I’m hot. Too hot. Why am I so hot?
The thought startles me awake. I force my heavy lids open and find the reason instantly. Sometime during the night, I must have climbed onto Matteo, his arm wrapped around my waist, keeping me in place.
I don’t even remember how I got here. The last thing I do remember is sitting at the piano, making up for lost time. I must have fallen asleep over the keys. It wouldn’t be the first time. Matteo must have found me there and brought me back to our room.
To his credit, he didn’t even undress me before taking me to bed, leaving me in my shorts and T-shirt. Though, in all honesty, I’d rather he had. Even a T-shirt and shorts feel like too much clothing to survive New York’s brutal summer heat. Chicago summers feel mild in comparison.
Without waking him, I pry myself off him, gently lifting his arm so I can slip back to my side of the bed. He lets out a small, disgruntled groan, but doesn’t wake. Once I’ve made sure he’s still fully asleep, I slide out of bed. But instead of moving away, I turn to look at my husband. It’s only fair, considering how much he enjoys watching me sleep. Might as well see what all the fuss is about.
Matteo’s arm is stretched out toward my side of the bed, as if trying to reach for me even in his slumber. A small frown tugs at his lips, as if something is troubling him, but it doesn’t make him any less beautiful. If anything, it makes him look… human. Vulnerable. It’s a strange thing to see in a man like him. Someone who always seems larger than life. Someone who is always in control.
I shake the thought away, focusing on something that won’t humanize him in my eyes.
He’s wearing his usual white T-shirt and sweats. He must be boiling dressed like that. I wonder if he’s always slept this way, or if he does it for my sake.
Matteo runs hot. He must have slept naked before I came along.
I chew the corner of my lip as my gaze runs down his frame. We’ve been married for two full weeks now, and I’ve never seen my husband’s chest, much less seen him naked. Of course, he’s never seen me either, so I guess that makes us even.
No. That’s not true. He’s seen glimpses of me on our calls.
Those late FaceTime calls where he used to guide my hand and make me…
