Page 57 of Tempting Tessa

Before I can argue, he scoops me up as if I weigh nothing, one arm under my ass and the other supporting my back. I yelp, grabbing his shoulders to steady myself before wrapping my legs around his waist.

“What are you doing?” I demand, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.

“Taking care of you,” he says simply, already carrying me toward the staircase.

I want to fight, to tell him to put me the fuck down, that I can walk on my own, but my body betrays me. I melt against his chest, my head finding the spot between his neck and shoulder that seems made for me. He smells of expensive cologne and something earthy that’s just him.

He pushes open his bedroom door with his shoulder and carries me straight through to the en-suite bathroom.

Matteo sets me on my feet but keeps his hands on my waist, steadying me. “Arms up,” he commands.

I hesitate, then comply, letting him pull my shirt over my head. His fingers brush my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He unclasps my bra next, sliding it down my arms and tossing it aside.

“Matteo, I don’t think⁠—”

“That’s the problem,” he cuts me off, already working on the button of my jeans. “You’re thinking too much. Let me take care of everything.”

He slides my jeans and panties down my legs in one smooth motion, leaving me naked and shivering in the cool bathroom air. His eyes roam over my body, lingering on my breasts, my stomach, the apex of my thighs.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and despite everything, heat blooms in my core.

He strips efficiently, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, then removing his pants and boxer briefs. His cock is already half-hard, thick and heavy between his legs. The sight makes my mouth water, even through my emotional exhaustion.

He steps into the shower and turns on the water, adjusting the temperature before holding out his hand to me. “Come.”

I place my hand in his, letting him guide me under the spray. The water hits my skin like a blessing, hot enough to turn my flesh pink but not scalding. I close my eyes and just stand there, letting it wash over me, baptizing me in steam and heat.

“Turn around,” Matteo says, his voice a low rumble.

I obey without thinking. His hands settle on my shoulders, kneading the tight muscles before sliding down my back. I hear the click of a bottle opening, and then his palms are gliding over my skin, slick with soap.

“Relax,” he murmurs, working his thumbs into the knots at the base of my neck. “Let go.”

My brain just…switches off. Like someone flipped a circuit breaker in my head, cutting power to all the parts that scream and worry and overthink. I sag against him, my forehead resting on the cool stone wall.

“That’s it,” he praises, his mouth at my ear. “Good girl. Let me take care of everything.”

I make a small noise in the back of my throat—not quite a moan, more like surrender. His fingers slide between my legs, cleaning me with gentle strokes.

I am exhausted. Physically, but also emotionally, and maybe I should just stop being a stubborn bitch and let someone take care of me.

Do I trust Matteo? Yes, with my life.

Can I trust him to take care of me? Take care of a baby? Absolutely.

My heart? Now, that’s the million-fucking-dollar question, because I’m not entirely sure.

Chapter 19

Matteo

I’ve never been a patient man with anyone but her. And right now, with her wet and naked in my arms, I’m about to worship every fucking inch of her body until she can’t remember why she was crying.

The sheets have already been turned down. She stands there, looking small and uncertain, water droplets sliding down her purple hair onto her shoulders.

“On the bed,” I tell her, my voice brooking no argument.

She hesitates, just for a second, then climbs onto the mattress. I position her exactly how I want her—on her back, head on the pillows, legs slightly spread. Her skin is flushed pink from the hot shower, her nipples tight and dark against the creamy expanse of her breasts.