So I did. I filled her in on all the drama surrounding the Olympics, not sparing her a single detail: how my mother had forced me to follow in her footsteps toward the Olympics, the training, the diets, the countless rounds of trials. I told her how she’d shouted at me for days after I’d failed the trials and then ignored me for another week.

  Every pent-up emotion, thought, and worry spilled out in a rush. It felt cathartic, telling someone who I knew understood what it was like not to be able to say no.

  “And don’t get me wrong, I love skating. But the show is just too much,” I explained, crossing my legs and fiddling with my ponytail. “I find it too stressful—the hours, meeting new people every season, the choreography, and being on live TV. I’m just too scared to let my family and the channel down.”

  She nodded knowingly. “Has Luca told you about my marriage to his father?”

  I nodded and her face softened with understanding.

  “Well, I was the same. I couldn’t tell him no, and I did everything he asked because I thought it would make him happy. I got this temporary buzz from making someone else feel good. But after a while, I started to feel angry and unfulfilled, because I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do, only what others wanted of me. I didn’t know how to stop and by that point, it was part of who I was.”

  I nodded again, even as tightness grew in my throat. My eyes prickled. “I can’t stand the thought of disappointing people, though. What if I hurt them? At least if I’m only hurting myself, I can manage and control how I feel.”

  “But can you, love? Can you manage the feeling of always treating your needs as less important than others’? It’s exhausting.” She held my hand in hers, the kind gesture so similar to how she treated her son that it caused the weight in my chest to grow heavier. She held my gaze and said, “You’re not a bad person for prioritizing your needs, Matilda. Everyone is responsible for their emotions, and disappointment is part of life.”

  “It feels so hard to remember that, though.”

  “I wish I’d worked harder on it when I was younger.” She gave me a sad smile. “It shouldn’t take a terminal diagnosis to start living your life how you want. Life is too short to waste it on pleasing everyone else around you. I might have been given a specific timeline, but we’re all on a timeline, really. Don’t wait until the last minute to live your life exactly as you want to.”

  “But what if I upset someone?”

  “There’s that famous saying: ‘I don’t regret the things I did do, I regret the things I didn’t.’ You know it?”

  I nodded, and she squeezed my hand.

  “It’s not always true for people like us. I don’t regret the times I said no; I regret the times I said yes, because it ultimately cost me my happiness. I missed so much and lost so many of my dreams, my peace—all because of what? Because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, and I wanted people to like me?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I knew she was right. Standing up to my family earlier had felt good, even though it had upset them.

  “Take Luca, for example. Do you think you’ve upset him or said something he disagreed with?”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Definitely.”

  She mirrored my expression. “Since the press event.”

  “Probably? I don’t know. But even if I have, he doesn’t ever seem annoyed.”

  “Exactly. But even if he was upset about something, or annoyed or disappointed, that’s just part of life. You can’t control how other people feel, no matter how hard you try. Look at you and your mother.”

  She wasn’t wrong. So why did I keep trying? Why did I constantly put her wishes above mine?

  “I feel good with Luca, as if I can be myself.” It felt strange, almost wrong, to discuss her son with her in such a candid way.

  “I know.” She held my gaze, smiling. “You just have to bear with him. Luca can be—”

  “Insanely handsome and hilarious?” Luca said from the door.

  Rosie and I laughed, filling the room and sweeping away any leftover sadness from our conversation. The weight that had rested heavily on my chest since being at my mother’s house now completely lifted, leaving a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “We’d better get moving soon.” Luca placed the tea on the side, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed his arms. His forearms were looking particularly appealing as they flexed.

  “You’ll both have to come over again soon,” Rosie said on a yawn. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to come and watch a performance, too, but we’ll have to see.”

  Luca moved across the room and kissed his mum on the cheek. I followed suit, leaning over to hug her.

  “Please remember what I said, Matilda. If you ever need anything, even just moral support, give me a call.” She held my hands and squeezed.

  The maternal tenderness and compassion Rosie offered to me was a rare gift I would hold close to my heart.

  “Stop hitting on her, Mom. I’ll get jealous.” We both rolled our eyes at Luca’s joke, then shared one more hug, holding on a moment longer.

  After we’d said our final goodbyes and stepped out of the room, everything felt just a little bit brighter.

  “I’ll walk you up to the door,” I told Matilda. “No arguments.”

  The demand might have seemed overprotective, like I wanted to make sure she got in OK, but in reality I just wanted to prolong our evening. I hadn’t anticipated taking her to see my mother, but as I’d gone to drive her home earlier, I’d realized I didn’t want to end the night there. I’d wanted her to meet my mom. I had hoped she might find comfort in standing up to her family by speaking to my mother. I didn’t know what they’d spoken about when I left the room, but when I returned and met my mother’s eyes, an understanding passed between us, and I was glad that I’d given them time to talk.

  “Thank you for taking me to see your mum, Luca.” Matilda rested her hand on my arm as we crossed the parking lot to the elevator. “I can see how much she means to you. I feel privileged to have met her.”

  We had managed to keep my mother’s diagnosis out of the media. I didn’t have to ask Matilda not to mention the care home to anyone else; I knew she wouldn’t.

  “She obviously loves you,” I told her, rolling my eyes as I pressed the elevator button. “Like everyone else.”

  “I can definitely think of a few people who don’t. My mother, my sister, Mark.” She counted the people on her fingers as the elevator started its ascent.

  “Mark doesn’t hate you.” I pushed aside the bitter feeling gnawing in my chest. “It’s the opposite.”

  “Obviously not, given that he broke up with me then slept with my sister.” She raised a challenging eyebrow.

  I shook my head in disbelief, still unable to believe Mark and Lauren’s betrayal.

  The doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing Matilda’s hallway. We made our way to her door in comfortable silence.

  Her jingling keys mocked me, reminding me I had to go soon. I slowed my walk in a pathetic attempt to hold on to the moment a little longer. But too soon, we reached her door, and she slid her key in. The clicking lock was the only sound echoing around the hallway. She turned in the entrance and hesitated for a moment, gaze assessing, before launching herself forward and throwing her arms around my neck.

  I wrapped my arms around her without a second thought. Her heartbeat against my chest was a soft, steady rhythm, and my body instinctively relaxed.

  It was over too soon as her arms loosened and she stepped back, but my palm found the side of her neck, halting her retreat. My thumb caressed the pulse just below her chin, the fast beat matching my own.

  I knew we were treading the fine line that we’d drawn the other evening in the dressing room, but I just couldn’t find it in myself to give a fuck. This was the problem with being with Matilda all day, every day—it was impossible to ignore my need for her. I searched her face, looking for any trace of sadness, some indication that she needed comfort. But there was none. Instead, her expression simmered with something else—heat.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered.

  I didn’t think twice. “Fuck, yes.”

  I dipped my head, my spare hand lifting to grasp the other side of her face. Our lips came together, and it felt so fucking good—like we were made for each other. I pressed her back against the doorframe and deepened the kiss. Our bodies aligned and Matilda gasped into my mouth, the little noise sending a flood of pleasure straight to my cock. I pulled back, my conscience remembering she’d just had an emotional evening. I definitely didn’t want to take advantage of her.

  “Stevens.” I cleared the gravel from my throat. “You’ve had a rough day. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes. I want you, Luca.”

  Our lips met again, the kiss deep, passionate—as if we’d both been starving, and this was the feast neither of us had dared dream of. Her fingers fisted my shirt, and I couldn’t get close enough. I slid a hand into her hair, the silky strands tangling between my fingers as my other hand found her waist. I squeezed, my palms trying to memorize the feel of her.

  We kissed for a few dizzying seconds before I found the self-control to pull back a few inches. There was a reason I’d drawn a line we weren’t supposed to cross.

  She searched my face hesitantly, looking for answers to an unknown question. I waited, holding her gaze and letting her decide whether she wanted to voice her thoughts.

  “Will you come inside?”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I loved it when Matilda asked for what she wanted.

  And fuck, I wanted to. So badly. My jeans felt tight as my dick twitched eagerly at the thought of burying myself inside Matilda. I’d struggled to think of much else since the dressing room a few weeks ago.

  And as much as it killed me, I hadn’t tried to repeat it. I wanted Matilda to assert her desires without my influence. But now that she had? I was worried about where it might lead, even though I knew I could trust Matilda.

  If I got the part, I wouldn’t be around for at least a year for filming. That was no way to start a relationship. We’d be living completely different lives—and I didn’t want to be another person Matilda had to juggle in her life. She deserved so much more than that.

  My hesitation must have spooked her. “That was silly. Sorry, I’ve already asked you to be my chauffeur tonight—”

  “I want to—”

  “You don’t need to protect my feelings. It’s fine, Luca.”

  “I want to come in so fucking badly, Matilda. I do.”

  “But?” she prompted, and despite myself, pride swelled in my chest at her assertiveness.

  “Is it a good idea? We haven’t got long left on the show, and this will all come to an end…” I spoke the words despite how sour they tasted on my tongue.

  “It can be just once—just to see.”

  “It feels like we’re setting ourselves up for failure.” For heartbreak. I wanted to cave so badly, but would once ever be enough? We hadn’t even had sex and I was bordering on obsessed with her.

  “But at least we would’ve tried,” she said, searching my face, and whatever she found made her shoulders sag. The light in her eyes dimmed and a small, resigned smile rested on her lips. “You’re right.” She nodded. In our shared gaze, there was mutual longing. Bittersweet understanding settled between us, pulling me in two opposite directions.

  “Good night, Stevens.” I spoke the words, but the voice didn’t sound like mine.

  “Night, Luca,” she replied.

  Forcing myself to stop acting like a malfunctioning robot, I turned on my heel. The sound of Matilda’s door clicking shut echoed down the hall, and I released a tight breath.

  What am I doing?

  I wanted to go back, knock on her door, and fuck her into next week. But I also wanted to protect us from any potential heartbreak. I’d built iron walls around my heart and tried so hard to ensure that no one penetrated them. Matilda hadn’t even had to try; she had melted them down with her wide smiles, annoyingly infectious laughter, and relentless chitter-chatter over the past few months.

  It can be just once—just to see…At least we would’ve tried.

  I froze mid-step. Could I really spend the rest of my life not knowing? Not knowing how it felt to be with Matilda, even just once? I knew someone like Matilda wouldn’t come around twice in a lifetime. Was I really about to let that slip through my fingers?

  If she was happy to deal with the consequences tomorrow, then I could, too.

  My body moved of its own accord as I stormed back to her door and rapped my knuckles against it. Light footsteps sounded on the other side, each passing second feeling like time was moving in slow motion.

  The door swung open.

  “Luca, what’s wrong?”

  “One night.” I swallowed. “One night wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?”

  There was no hesitation to her smile. “No, I don’t think it would hurt.”

  I pounced forward, and Matilda mirrored my movements as she walked backward. Slamming the door behind me, I pulled her face to mine.

  We were a tangle of limbs, clothes, and grabbing hands, both of us racing to get the other’s clothes off as fast as possible. Our heavy breaths mingled as we kissed as if our lives depended on it.

  And despite knowing that this couldn’t end well, I deepened the kiss. Nothing had ever felt so fucking good. Her full lips felt like heaven and sin all wrapped into one, and I was happily drowning in purgatory.

  I pushed off her jacket, then the tiny straps of her dress from her shoulders, replacing them with my lips. My memory of her smooth, hot skin was nothing in comparison to the real thing. She shivered under my touch, her hips pressing forward into mine, looking for relief.

  And I fucking obliged.

  I barely registered the heavy beating in my chest as I devoured the spot between her neck and shoulder, savoring every moan and sigh that fell from her lips. Each sound was like a serenade written and sung with the sole purpose of making me more desperate for her.

  Snaking my hand to the nape of her neck and into her hair, I coaxed her head back to expose her throat.

  “You taste like fucking heaven,” I murmured, nipping at the column of her throat before trailing up toward her ear. Her neck erupted in goosebumps as my teeth brushed her skin, and I pulled her hips into mine with my other hand. I groaned, her soft stomach pressing against my dick, easing the building pressure for a second.

  “Come here.” I gripped her thighs and wrapped her legs around my waist, needing her closer.

  I carried Matilda to her bedroom, wholly focused on devouring her. Her hands greedily roamed my shoulders, neck, chest—every touch sending waves of pleasure straight to my cock.

  Repositioning my hands, I slid them back to grip her ass, savoring the fullness as she writhed in my arms.

  I threw her onto the bed, eliciting a short yelp of surprise before her eyes flared with heat. Her legs drifted apart, and her lips parted in an unspoken invitation.

  So she likes being thrown around a bit. Noted.

  And she was a vision. Tousled hair, bee-stung lips, stretched across her thick white quilt. And I’d done that to her. Primal satisfaction surged within me, reveling at the sight of her marked as mine.

  “You are so fucking sexy, do you know that?” My eyes roamed her body, drinking her in. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and despite her blush, her tanned, curved legs parted further in invitation.

  “I’m about to fuck you until you see stars, and you still can’t take a compliment without blushing.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  I reached for my belt and, with deliberate slowness, began to unbuckle it. Her eyes flickered down and sparkled with intrigue as she watched my measured movements. As the leather slid through the loops, her pupils dilated.

  Interesting.

  Throwing the belt onto the bed, I brushed my hands up her legs before wrapping them underneath her knees and pulling her down the bed.

  Conveniently, the skirt of her dress bunched with the movement, revealing her pink, lacy thong.

  Without taking my eyes off Matilda, I knelt between her legs, positioning myself so they were spread wide.

  “I want to eat you like this.” She squirmed, hips rising, looking for anything to relieve the pressure. “Are you going to make me proud and beg this time?” I pressed a palm to her lower stomach, halting her needy movements. Raising an eyebrow, I waited.

  “Please, Luca,” she moaned, and I rewarded her by dragging my hand lower across the front of her thong, circling just above the place she wanted it. Her breathing came in short, heated gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “Oh my god.” Her hips rose again, and I dragged my hand back up to her stomach, further away from where she wanted. She groaned, “Please, please, please.”

  “Please what?” I grazed my fingers lower, Matilda’s stomach hollowing with the movement.

  “Please put your mouth on me.”

  I tugged the thong down her legs, discarding it off the end of the bed, before surveying my handiwork. “God, you’re fucking beautiful. So needy and desperate, spread out for me.”

  I was so hard by that point that I could barely think, much less move.

  But then she whimpered and I was a goner. I pushed her legs apart, lowered myself to the floor, and devoured.

  At the contact, Matilda heaved a satisfied moan, and her legs dropped further without any need for assistance. I lapped her wetness. Every stroke was like ecstasy. The more I sampled, the more I needed.

  My dick was begging me for relief, but I couldn’t have given a fuck. I was so painfully turned on that stopping wasn’t an option, and my thoughts were consumed with making Matilda come.

 

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