“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, his lips less than an inch from mine, his eyes dark and devoid of the usual playfulness. My insides seemed to burn with need. “I don’t care.” And then Matteo kissed me, lightly at first as if he wasn’t sure if I was being serious. I tugged at his vest, wanting him to stop being careful, and Matteo crushed his body to mine, his tongue slipping between my lips, tangling with mine, giving me no time to wonder what I was doing. He tasted of whiskey and something sweeter, like the most delicious whiskey truffle I could imagine. His body radiated heat and strength.
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