Emilio's heart pounded as Matteo stalked toward him, his movements slow, deliberate—like a predator toying with prey.
He should move.
He should push him away.
But his body?
It betrayed him.
Matteo reached him in two steps, pressing close—so close Emilio could feel the heat rolling off him.
A smirk curled Matteo's lips. "Still pretending you don't want this?"
Emilio's breath hitched. "I—"
Matteo's hand slid around his waist, his fingers grazing the small of Emilio's back.
A touch so light, so devastating, Emilio shivered.
Matteo chuckled.
"Liar."
Emilio swallowed hard. "I hate you."
Matteo leaned in, his lips ghosting over Emilio's throat.
"No, you don't."
His voice was a whisper—dark, velvet-soft, dangerous.
Emilio tensed, but Matteo didn't stop.
Didn't give him space.
Didn't give him a chance to breathe.
Instead, his hand drifted lower—tracing slow, teasing circles against the curve of Emilio's hip.
Heat spiked through Emilio's veins.
He clenched his jaw. "Stop."
Matteo hummed, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
"Make me."
Emilio trembled.
Because they both knew—
He wouldn't.
Matteo shifted, his mouth skimming just under Emilio's jaw.
A soft kiss.
Featherlight.
Cruel.
Emilio gasped.
Matteo grinned.
"Look at you," he murmured, lips tracing down the side of Emilio's neck. "You want me to ruin you, don't you?"
Emilio squeezed his eyes shut.
No.
Yes.
God, yes.
Matteo pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.
A challenge. A promise.
"Say it."
Emilio's throat went dry. "I—"
Matteo's grip tightened.
"Say. It."
Emilio's pulse thundered.
But still—
He couldn't.
Matteo smirked.
His mouth hovered over Emilio's—hot breath, no kiss.
Just a whisper.
"Then I'll just have to make you."
And the worst part?
Emilio knew he would.