Chapter 38

Zara’s POV

I don’t remember who moved first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was the space between us finally snapping.

One second we were staring at each other like enemies standing across a battlefield.

The next— His hand reaching for my waist. And my mouth was on his.

It wasn’t soft this time. It wasn’t hesitant, felt more like a third-time collision.

His lips crushed against mine like he’d been holding back for weeks and finally gave up pretending he didn’t want this. His glass slipped from his hand and shattered somewhere on the kitchen floor, but neither of us flinched.

I grabbed his shirt, he grabbed my hips. And suddenly we were no longer standing still. We were devouring.

His mouth moved against mine with hunger, real hunger not even the calculated control he always wore like armor.

I felt it in the way he exhaled through his nose. In the way his fingers tightened almost painfully at my waist. His wounded hand, which I had noticed yesterday brushed my side and I gasped.

He paused for half a second and then he kissed me again. Harder this time.

The counter pressed into my lower back as he pushed me against it. And something metallic clattered to the floor beside us, a spoon? A tray? I didn’t even care.

My hands slid up his chest, over the firm lines of muscle beneath his shirt, up to his jaw. His stubble scraped against my skin and sent heat straight down my spine.

One minute we were arguing about control. The next minute I was arching into him like I had no sense left. His mouth left mine and trailed down my jaw, to my neck.

I inhaled sharply.

“Matteo—”

His name felt different coming from my lips now. Breathless. His hand slid up my thigh, slow at first, almost too deliberate.

My fingers dug into his shoulders and he lifted me without warning.

I gasped as he set me on the counter, the cold marble shocking against the heat in my body. His body moved between my knees, crowding me, claiming the space between us as he owned it.

“Tell me to stop,” he said roughly against my neck. But he didn’t sound like he wanted me to and so I didn’t.

Instead, I pulled him back to my mouth. That was my answer.

The kitchen door slammed shut behind him, I don’t even know when he kicked it closed and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet house.

It should have scared me, but it didn’t. His hands were everywhere now. My waist. My thighs. My back. That even my skin felt like it had been waiting for him. Like it recognized him. Like my body had memorized him from that first reckless night and refused to forget.

I gasped when his fingers tightened at my hips. His lips moved down my throat again, slower this time, tasting.

I tilted my head back as his mouth trailed lower, and my breath came unevenly.

“We’re not supposed to—,” I whispered, barely able to think. He lifted his head just enough to look at me but without any response, he continued.

My legs tightened around him instinctively and I felt the shift in his breathing. One moment he was dominating the space. The next time he looked at me like I was the one undoing him.

“Zara,” he said quietly and I ran my hands into his hair. Pulled him back to me. That was the last thread of restraint snapping.

We moved together like we were trying to erase every insult we’d thrown at each other. Every cold look. Every bitter word.

The counter rattled behind me, and he raised my legs to his chest and then something else crashed to the floor.

His mouth found mine again and this time the kiss was slower. Deeper. Not just hunger, as I presumed.

That I could even feel his restraint fighting itself. His control is cracking. And the fact that I was the reason made the heat coil in my stomach go hot.

My breath came in ragged pulls as he pressed closer, as his hands explored with a familiarity that made my skin burn.

One minute we were enemies. The next—We were fire.

In seconds, he broke the kiss suddenly, but he didn't pull away completely. Just enough to look at me.

There was something almost dangerous in his expression. Something I have never seen before.

“Take it off!” he gestured to my shorts and for some reason, I was completely wet down there already, so I didn't protest. I just did as I was told.

“Sit!” he added. And in seconds I climbed onto his desk, staring at him. He had this seductive expression, one I had never seen before. One that I couldn't resist even if I tried to tonight.

He leaned forward, and then crouched to the floor, facing my already wet dripping clit.

‘Why are you allowing this Zara!’ I chanted repeatedly to myself, yet I remained seated.

Matteo leaned close to me and then sniffed me. I stiffened when he looked up, smiling like he could sense that I wanted him in there.

“Hold still,” he said, and then inserted a finger into my dripping self. I gasped the minute I felt a finger go in and then another and then the third.

I held on tight to the desk when he thrusted in and out of me. I tried not to scream but the way he rubbed on it made that so hard to resist.

I bit my lips so hard it ached. With my eyes rolled completely to the back, I held on still on the desk as he plunged his fingers into me. Over and over again.

“Arghhhh!” I moaned just when I couldn't stand the sweet sensation that came from being touched by him and just when I couldn't hold back, I came, right on his fingers still digging into me.

“Good girl,” he said and then perked up to his feet. And then without another word he just walked away.

I lifted my face, trying to catch my breath as u watched him leave.

But we both knew one thing. That we had just crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

“Fuck!”