The next day I discovered the estate has a private indoor pool. Heated, tucked away in a wing I never cleaned as a maid—probably deliberately kept off my rotation.
The room is all glass and steam, humid air wrapping around me like an embrace.
Tropical plants soften the stone edges—palms and ferns and flowers I can't name, turning the space into something out of a dream. Sunlight filters through the glass ceiling, dappled and warm.
I slip into the water and the heat seeps into my bones immediately. I float on my back, eyes closed, and for the first time in days, I let myself breathe.
Just breathe. No brothers. No choices. No phantom hands on my skin.
"Well, well. The little mermaid explores."
My eyes fly open. I know that voice. That velvet-and-venom tone that makes my stomach flip despite every instinct screaming danger.
Matteo stands at the pool's edge in nothing but black swim shorts that hang sinfully low on his hips.
Water from the humid air has already begun to bead on his golden skin, tracing paths down the carved planes of his chest, the rigid lines of his abdomen.
His body is a study in masculine perfection—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles defined but not bulky, the kind of physique that comes from both discipline and indulgence.
Matteo’s dark curls are tousled, damp at the temples, and those amber eyes drag over my body beneath the water with lazy, predatory appreciation.
"Can't I have five minutes of peace in this house?" I try to sound annoyed, but my voice comes out breathless.
"Peace is overrated, piccola." He tilts his head, full lips curving into that devastating smile. "Besides, I was here first. Technically, you're interrupting my swim."
"I don't see you swimming."
"I was about to."
Before I can respond, he dives in—a clean, powerful arc that barely disturbs the surface. He cuts through the water like he was born in it, every movement fluid and graceful, and surfaces inches from my face.
"Don't let me interrupt," he murmurs. "I just came for exercise. Completely innocent intentions."
"You've never had an innocent intention in your life."
His grin widens, revealing perfect white teeth. "You wound me, piccola. I'm a perfect gentleman."
He starts to circle me, slow and deliberate, and the word that comes to mind is shark. Predator.
Water streams down his shoulders, his biceps, as he moves with liquid grace. Every ripple of muscle is visible beneath that golden skin, and I find myself unable to look away.
His hand brushes my waist as he passes—casual, almost accidental, but his fingers are hot even through the water. On his next circuit, his palm grazes my hip, lingering, thumb stroking a small circle against my skin.
Then his touch trails down my spine, featherlight, and I feel it everywhere.
"Relax," he breathes, circling closer. "I don't bite. Only if you ask nicely. I've been told my mouth is very... talented."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're insufferable?"
"Frequently. Usually while they're screaming my name and coming on my tongue."
He stops in front of me, so close that our bodies nearly touch. The heat radiating from him has nothing to do with the warm water.
"You'd know something about that, wouldn't you? Those pretty sounds you made in the library have been playing on repeat in my head for two days. I've been hard thinking about them. About you."
My face flames. "That was… I wasn't…"
His hands find my hips, grip tightening, pulling me closer until I can feel the hard length of him pressing against my stomach through our swimsuits.
"And I've been thinking about nothing else since. About what other sounds I could pull from that pretty mouth. About how your pussy would taste on my tongue if I had more than a few minutes to worship it properly."
He lifts me suddenly, effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist. I gasp at the new position.
"Matteo!"
His hips roll, grinding against me, and I bite back a moan.
"Is that what you want, Gianna? You want me to be gentle? Patient?" He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, amber burning molten gold. "Or do you want me to fuck you so hard you see stars?"
I should say stop. Should push him away and swim to the other end of the pool and pretend my body isn't throbbing for exactly what he's offering.
"Don't stop," I whisper instead.
Triumph flares in his eyes, dark and hungry.
He walks me backward through the water, my legs still wrapped around him, his cock still pressed against my aching center.
When my shoulders hit the pool's edge, his hands grip my waist and lift me onto the warm stone, positioning me so I'm sitting on the edge with my legs dangling in the water on either side of his body.
Matteo spreads my legs wider, positioning himself between them, still standing in the chest-deep water.
"Let me taste you properly this time. Let me show you what I can do when I'm not sharing."
He doesn't wait for permission.
His fingers hook into my swimsuit, yanking the fabric aside roughly, and then his mouth is on me—hot and wet and devastating.
His tongue drags through my folds in one long, slow stroke, gathering my wetness, and he groans like I'm the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.
"Fuck, you're soaked," he breathes against my flesh. "Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your head hasn't caught up yet."
My hands fist in his wet curls as he devours me.
There's nothing gentle about it—he eats me like a man starving, tongue relentless, alternating between teasing flicks against my clit and deep, probing thrusts inside my entrance.
Two fingers slide into me without warning, curling, finding that spot that makes my vision white out.
"So fucking tight," he groans, pumping his fingers while his tongue works my clit. "Can't wait to feel you squeeze my cock like this. You're going to take me so well, Gianna."
He brings me to the edge, my walls fluttering around his fingers—then pulls back. I whimper at the loss, hips chasing his mouth desperately.
He brings me to the edge again, tongue circling my clit while his fingers fuck me relentlessly, and again pulls back just before I shatter.
I'm shaking now, desperate, tears pricking my eyes from the overwhelming need for release.
"That's it," he murmurs, amber eyes blazing as he watches me fall apart. "Those are the sounds I wanted. Now come for me, Gianna. Come on my face like a good girl."
His mouth seals over my clit, sucking hard, fingers curling deep, and I explode.
The orgasm rips through me violent and overwhelming—my back arching off the stone, his name torn from my throat in a scream that echoes off the glass ceiling.
Matteo pulls back slowly, deliberately licking his glistening fingers clean as he looks up at me with obscene satisfaction. His lips and chin are wet with my arousal, and he makes no move to wipe it away.
He hoists himself out of the pool in one fluid motion, water streaming down his magnificent body, his erection straining visibly against his swim shorts. He leans down to whisper against my ear, his stubble scraping my cheek.
"When you come to my bed, piccola, it'll be because you're begging for my cock. And you will."
He walks away without looking back, leaving me trembling, ruined, staring at the glass ceiling while my thighs shake and my pussy still pulses with aftershocks.