Chapter 96 The Baby We Forgot
Valentina
His breath is still ragged against my neck. One of his hands remains tangled in my hair, the other braced against the mattress. His entire body is locked around mine like a vice.
And he’s still inside me.
I try to shift forward, to catch my balance, but his grip tightens and he growls low in his throat—barely audible, but sharp enough to still me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing back over my shoulder.
He leans in, teeth grazing the shell of my ear. “Just enjoying being buried in you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Matteo—”
“You wiggle too much, and you’re going to make him hard again,” he warns, voice like gravel soaked in honey. “And if that happens, we’re going for round two whether you’re ready or not.”
I roll my eyes, half tempted to wiggle just out of spite—but my legs are still shaking, and honestly, I don’t think I could take another round right now. “No. I need to get up. I’ve already been asleep for a full day. I need to shower. I need to—”
My stomach betrays me with a loud growl.
He huffs a soft laugh and finally—finally—slips out of me. I wince at the loss, then gasp again as he gives my ass a sharp, claiming smack.
“Go on,” he says, stretching like he owns the fucking sun. “Before I change my mind.”
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder as I grab my robe, and his eyes track every inch of my walk to the bathroom like he’s planning his next meal. The moment the door clicks shut, I lean back against it and exhale.
Jesus. I’ve never been so thoroughly used and still felt like I won something.
I turn the shower on hot and step under the spray, bracing my hands on the tile as the water beats down. My thighs ache. My arms ache. My everything aches.
But the ache feels earned.
Five minutes in, I’m just starting to feel like myself again when the bathroom door opens followed by the glass shower door.
“Wow,” I say flatly, “thanks for the head start.”
Matteo steps in behind me without shame, already reaching for the soap like he belongs here—which, apparently, he now does. He presses a kiss to my shoulder and slides his arms around me, hands finding my breasts like magnets.
“Matteo,” I warn, “we are not having round two in this shower.”
To my surprise, he laughs and nods. “I know. I agree.”
I blink, turning to look at him over my shoulder. “You do?”
“Mm-hmm.” His thumbs brush casually over my nipples as he speaks, clearly not helping. “I’m just admiring what’s mine. I happen to be a very hands-on kind of owner.”
I snort, trying not to melt. “You’re such an ass.”
“A possessive one,” he agrees, dipping his head to bite softly at my neck. “But I didn’t come in here to fuck you, this time. I just needed a quick rinse. We need to get dressed, grab something to eat, and head to the hospital.”
The word slams through me like a lightning bolt.
“Wait—what? Why? What happened?”
He pauses just long enough to make my stomach twist before he finally answers.
“Carrol called me,” he says quietly.
And just like that, the blood drains from my face.
I spin around, soap still dripping down my thighs. “Oh my god—did something happen to the baby? Is she okay? I didn’t even—fuck, I didn’t even think about her—”
“Hey.” Matteo cups my face, steadying me. “Breathe.”
“Is she okay?” I whisper again.
“She’s fine,” he says firmly. “She’s fine, Valentina.”
The shame claws up my spine anyway. I’d completely forgotten—buried in pleasure, in him, in the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. But the baby matters too.
Of course she does.
Matteo sees it all in my face. His hand slides to the back of my neck and holds me there, grounding me with a look.
“She’s fine,” he repeats.
I finished my shower in record time.
Hair washed, rinsed, hand-wrung. A quick swipe of conditioner barely given time to think before I was vigorously rinsing it out. I got out, dripping way too much water on the floor. I didn’t care.
I aggressively ran the towel over each part of my body, brushed my teeth with one hand while dragging a comb through my hair with the other. I don’t even think I dried off completely before I started yanking on clothes.
And it hit me halfway through pulling my jeans up—
My hands didn’t hurt.
The swelling was gone. No raw throb, no torn skin. I could actually button my pants without gritting my teeth.
Healing. Fast.
It should’ve made me feel proud.
Instead, it made me feel late.
I threw on a bra, wrangled a clean top over my head, and stepped into shoes in the same breath.
Matteo was still in the bathroom, brushing his teeth like we weren’t about to sprint into battle. Like nothing in the world had shifted.
I glared at him in the mirror. “Are you moving through time at half speed or am I in some alternate dimension where urgency doesn’t exist?”
He rinsed, wiped his mouth, and raised a brow. “Relax. We’re going.”
“Then go faster.”
“You need to eat.”
“Screw eating—”
“Valentina.” His voice dropped. Calm. Steady. Too steady. “Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why did Carrol call you?” I snapped, chest tight. “You said it wasn’t the baby, so what is it? Why are we going to the hospital if nothing is wrong?”
He exhaled, calmly tucking his shirt into his jeans like this wasn’t driving me insane. “It’s about Arianna.”