His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)
His Tesoro: Chapter 37

Matteo wouldn’t stop fussing. I had three blankets layered over me, and he kept bringing me beverages—water, tea, coffee, soda, and a large glass of grappa—a strong Italian liquor. The last one made me cock an eyebrow, but my harried husband hadn’t even noticed.

I was learning Matteo’s subtle tells. He wore a stony expression, his tone stern and serious, but he couldn’t hide how he ran his hand through his hair when stressed, the way his fists clenched with anxiety, and the slight crinkle of his eyes when happy. With every delivered beverage and food, every gruff question asking how I was doing, my chest grew warmer.

I hadn’t gotten the elaborate wedding I’d dreamed of or the smiling groom or the quiet, peaceful life in the countryside, but more and more I was thinking I’d ended up with something better.

“Do you need another blanket?” Matteo loomed over me, messy pieces of hair falling across his forehead and a slightly crazed look in his eyes.

The urge to tease him was strong, but instead, I held out my hand.

“What? What is it?” Matteo asked, staring down at me.

I snorted a giggle and grabbed his hand. “I don’t need any more blankets. Will you sit down with me?”

His eyes were fixed on our joined hands. For a moment, I thought I might have overstepped, but then Matteo gave me a squeeze. I tugged at him and he sat beside me on the couch. His body was stiff as he kept space between us. When we first met, I would have interpreted his behavior as being irritated with me, but I was growing increasingly suspicious that my husband might like me.

Might care for me.

I shifted on the cushion until our bodies were pressed together. When he didn’t move away, I rested my head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, tesoro?”

Could he hear the way my heart pounded at the term of endearment?

“I’m… leaning.”

“Leaning?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Okay. You lean all you want.” He adjusted his body so his arm was around me and then I was pulled tight to his chest. He was warm and comforting as I melted against him. Then his hand ran down my hair, and I was pretty sure I had actually died and this was heaven.

“I’ll take being shot at every day if it leads to this,” I said, snuggling deeper into Matteo’s embrace.

His hold on me tightened. “Don’t fucking joke about that.”

I ran my nose down the column of his throat, surprising myself with my boldness. “Who says I was joking?”

He sighed. “How about I promise to hold you every day if you promise not to get shot at?”

“Deal.”

“Are you sure you don’t need another blanket?” he murmured.

“Not when you’re here to keep me warm.”

He ran his hand down my arm. “Are you hungry?”

I tilted my head to meet his gaze and raised a tentative hand to cup his face. Matteo leaned into my hand, and my breathing sped up. “There is something I need.”

“What? Anything,” he said seriously.

I bit my lip, my heart racing. The adrenaline from earlier must have addled my mind because there was no way I was actually going to say it out loud. “A kiss.”

Matteo blinked. “What?”

“I want a kiss.”

His brow furrowed, and I held my breath, sure he would refuse me. But then his hand cupped my face, his thumb running down my cheek. “If that’s what you need, how can I refuse you?” Then he was tilting my face, his lips meeting mine with a softness so in contrast to his typical harshness, and I wondered if this was a side of him saved just for me. I would choose to believe it, even if it wasn’t true, because the way he was clutching me close was a feeling I never wanted to forget.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said between hungry kisses.

I whimpered and ran my fingers through his hair, giving it a tug. “Yes, you should.”

“You’re hurt.” He pressed hot kisses down my jaw.

“I’m not.” I put my arms around his neck and pulled myself sideways into his lap, feeling his hardness press against my thigh. Dr. Amato had wrapped my knee to stabilize it, but I was completely fine otherwise.

He groaned, his hips giving an involuntary thrust against me. “I should be taking care of you.”

“You are taking care of me.” I moved my lips back to his and this time, I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips. They parted with a groan and then Matteo let go of his carefully curated facade, gripping my face with one hand and my ass with the other.

He was devouring me—his tongue hot as it pressed against mine, his hand threading through my hair with a stinging grip. I moaned and he swallowed the sound as he ran his hands over my body. I grew wet and needy and suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about feeling my husband inside me. His fingers brushed against my nipples, and my kisses grew more desperate.

“Please,” I gasped.

“What do you need?”

“You. Everything.” I was beyond complete sentences as I ran my hands down his chest. With every move I made, I was braced for rejection, for the moment my husband realized he didn’t want this, didn’t want me. But the fear and adrenaline from today’s life-and-death experience was shifting, transforming—urging me to go after what made me feel alive.

“You want me to touch you?” Matteo’s voice was low and gravelly.

Without second-guessing, I shifted so I was straddling him. I arched into him, and felt a jolt of pleasure as I ground my pussy against his hard-on, but the movement also caused an ache in my hips that told me my joints weren’t happy being spread around my broad husband.

“What is it?” Matteo asked, his brow furrowed.

“Nothing—”

“Don’t lie.” His stern tone made me grow wet, even as the pain in my hips increased.

“I maybe can’t sit this way,” I mumbled.

Matteo moved instantly, rearranging me on his lap so I was sitting sideways again. “You’re hurting.”

It wasn’t a question.

My cheeks burned. Why couldn’t my body just cooperate for once?

“I don’t want to stop,” I said, meeting my husband’s gaze head-on, challenging him to argue.

He ran his thumb across my lip. “You think I have much more self control than I do, tesoro, if you think I can stop now.”

A smile broke out across my face. I hadn’t ruined it with my dysfunctional body. He still wanted me.

He ran his hand up my leg, gently squeezing my thigh. “What else do I need to be careful of?”

My heart felt like it was going to burst at his care for me, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m not sure,” I said, a little breathless. “Just don’t freak out if I dislocate something.”

He frowned. “You will not dislocate anything.”

“I’m not sure you can command that.” I traced my fingers along his jaw. “But I’ll try my best.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, and for a moment, we quietly breathed each other in.

“I’m taking you to bed. Our first time isn’t going to be on this fucking couch.”

He tightened his hold on me, slipping one arm behind my knees, and stood. Nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and took a deep breath. For the first time in my life, I felt desirable. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to my husband.