Page 155 of Chasing Hope

Thatis a new sensation.

I’ve never been one to initiate intimacy, have always done it to appease a man and get it over with, but looking at Matteo, a hunger I’ve never experienced before awakens deep within my body.

Swallowing, I finally lift my eyes to his face and see the smug grin pasted across his lips.

“As much as I love watching you eye-fuck me,” he drawls, stopping before me and pinching the jersey I’m wearing like it’s a bomb that will go off at any moment. He pulls a face like he’s sucked on a lemon. “What is this?”

Frowning, I peer down at the IceHawks jersey I always wear. “Um, my jersey?”

Letting go of it, Matteo folds his arms over his chest. “Take it off,” he demands.

I scoff out an incredulous laugh…which is made a little less convincing by the pulsing in my core again. “Excuse me?” I say.

“You’re wearing Caleb’s number.”

“Yeah, because he’s my brother,” I say, matter-of-factly.

“I’ve dreamed of the day you would wear my jersey, Dove. I don’t want to dream anymore.”

The warmth that was flooding my veins intensifies. Deciding to do what I always do best with him, I tease, “Oh…is that right?”

His eyes heat at the cheekiness in my tone.

We needed this. We needed some lighthearted flirting.

And fuck, does he look so good right now.

Matteo’s tongue darts out, slowly licking his bottom lip. “Take it off, Dove.”

“Make me.”

The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve said, but I’m glad I did. I want him, badly. I’ve never had this feeling before, this bodily reaction. And now that the Valenti charm is directed on me, now that he isn’t holding back anymore, my body is reveling in the attention.

Matteo’s eyes spark at the challenge, his grin slow to develop before turning into a dazzling smile. At the mischief I see in his eyes, I spin on my heel, drop my purse, and run. Heading for the stairs, I only make it two steps before his arm wraps around my middle, pulling me flush against his chest.

“Can’t run from a defense player,” he teases before whirling me around in one fluid motion. He lets go, but places his arms on either side of me, one on the banister and the other on the wall. He smirks down at me like he wishes to ravish me. “Take it off, baby.”

My brow arches. “Baby?”

“You can be called Dove again when you’re in my jersey,” he drawls, his voice so deep it makes a shiver rush down my spine.

“And why do you want me in your jersey so badly?”

“My woman, my jersey.”

My heart races, the blood rushing in my ears as I look up at the man I’ve always wanted and thought I could never have. “Is that what I am? Your woman?”

Matteo’s swallow is audible. “If you’d have me, I’d be honored to be yours officially.”

“Officially?” I ask.

“I’ve always beenyours.”

He seems to stop breathing, seems to hold his breath as he slowly reaches blindly for the console table behind him. The forest of his soul pierces my ocean, earth and water colliding as we feed each other life.

Opening the console drawer, he pulls something out.

It’s a black and white jersey.