Emilio's hands gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white, heart pounding as Matteo's voice curled around him like smoke.
"I told you," Matteo murmured, stepping closer. "No more running."
Emilio swallowed, his breath coming too fast. "I wasn't—"
Matteo's fingers caught his chin, tilting his face up—slow, deliberate.
"No more lying, either," Matteo whispered.
Emilio shuddered.
Matteo's thumb traced his bottom lip. A touch so soft, so intimate, it sent fire licking through his veins.
"You like this," Matteo said. No question. No hesitation. Just truth.
Emilio's fingers dug into the counter.
"I—"
Matteo's mouth brushed his.
Not a kiss.
A threat.
A promise.
"You want me to ruin you, don't you?" Matteo murmured.
Emilio's pulse spiked.
Matteo laughed, low and sinful.
His lips hovered just over Emilio's, breath hot, teasing, infuriating.
"So say it."
Emilio's body betrayed him—leaning in, aching, needing.
But he still had pride.
Still had the will to fight, even as it crumbled beneath Matteo's touch.
So he shook his head.
Matteo grinned.
"Oh, pastry boy," he murmured, his hand slipping down—gripping Emilio's hip, fingers digging in just enough to make him gasp. "You're only making this more fun for me."
Emilio hated how much that sent a shiver down his spine.
Matteo leaned in, voice nothing but a wicked whisper.
"I'm going to make you beg for it."
And the worst part?
Emilio knew he would.