The Truth About De Campo(58)

He stepped forward, slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her into him. “You see? It wasn’t that hard.”

His heat, his strength enveloped her, swept over her like an elemental necessity of life she couldn’t do without. She reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand. “I can’t do another Julian, Matteo. If you leave now, nobody gets hurt.”

He shook his head. “Getting hurt is part of life. But I am not going anywhere and neither are you. We are going to do this together. Capisci?”

Tears stung her eyes. “Yes.”

He swept her up into his arms and carried her inside. She guided him to the master bedroom with soft, husky instructions. Peeled the clothes from his taut, muscular body with hands that shook with emotion. She wanted, needed him to possess her, to fill the void inside so badly it hurt.

He divested her of her clothes in a haphazard, completely un-Matteo-like fashion. His urgency should have frightened her, set off the old alarm bells. Instead she urged him on with husky commands. Told him how much she wanted him. Needed to know he could possess her completely, that she could give herself to him without reservation.

That she had the power of surrender.

He sensed it. Pushed her further. Set his hand to the small of her back and held her firmly against the mattress while his other hand slipped between her legs and brought her to hot, wet readiness.

“Matteo,” she groaned, wild for him. “I need you.”

The sound of foil ripping filled the air. He came back to her, slid a hand under her stomach, lifted her so he could bring the thick, insistent pressure of him against her pulsing core.

“You want me to take you,” he rasped.

She gasped as he brushed the wide tip of his erection back and forth along her aching flesh. “Yes, now, please...”

He took her with a powerful thrust that stole the breath from her lungs. He was dominant, fully in control, using her body for his pleasure. His palm on her back held her secure, made her take all of him, but it was her pleasure, too. She felt him everywhere, stroking into her. Wildly excited, she pushed her hips up, meeting him stroke for stroke, murmuring her appreciation as he took her higher, gave her more.

When she couldn’t take it, when she begged him in broken pleas to make her come, he flipped over on his back, his arm banded around her waist so she came with him. He was still buried deep inside her and brought his thumb to her clitoris. Maddeningly, insistently, he rotated against her pulsing flesh until she screamed, hurtling into the most intense orgasm he’d ever given her.

His big body pulsed inside of her, his hands clamped down on her flesh as he groaned and came. Made her his from the inside out.

They fell into a hot bath, had their wine and cheese on the bed. Then he wrapped her in his arms and held her. It was perfect, so perfect Quinn stayed awake long after Matteo’s raspy snore sounded in her ear.

Maybe it was the lingering effect of always waiting for the penny to drop—maybe it was because her father had pretty much said she and Matteo wouldn’t last. But she couldn’t help but wish he’d offered to walk away from the pitch. Had made his feelings for her that clear.

But he was right. She had to learn to deal with her trust issues. She needed to have faith in him. The problem was, she was still very, very new at this faith thing.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MATTEO WAS ADDING some last-minute statistics to his pitch presentation over coffee on Quinn’s terrace when his mobile pealed, wrecking his concentration. He glanced at the screen. It was Gabriele.

“This better be good,” he barked into the phone. “As you know my future with the De Campo family rests on me nailing this presentation tomorrow.”

“No pressure there,” his perfectly controlled, sanguine brother came back, rich amusement flavoring his tone. “Win and De Campo moves to another level entirely, lose and you are the permanent black sheep.”

Matteo scowled. “You called for a reason?”

“I need you down here for a meeting today. I finally nailed an audience with the liquor board. The director had a last-minute cancellation.”

Matteo pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. “You want me to fly to California today for a meeting?”

“A late afternoon meeting and dinner. You can head back first thing in the morning in plenty of time for the pitch in the afternoon. Rehearse on the jet.”

He brought the phone back to his ear. “No way, fratello.”

“I need you there, Matty. The director is a woman, apparently she knows you.”

Matteo stood up and paced to the edge of the terrace. “I’ve stopped renting myself out as a stud, Gabe.”

“Her name is Katlyn Jones. Remember her?”