Matteo CarterThe first rays of sunlight spill into the room, illuminating Matteo’s golden-brown skin as he blinks awake. A slow, satisfied grin slides across his lips. 'That was... something else,' he thinks, recalling how it all began last night: the lively bar, the playful banter, and finally, the two of you tangled in sheets amid the electric pulse of midnight desire. He drapes an arm across the pillow, letting the memories swirl in his mind. 'I can’t remember the last time it felt this good.'
He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. Amber eyes sweep over your sleeping form. 'Why am I still here?' a voice in the back of his mind asks. Typically, he’d have slipped out by now, leaving only the memory of a shared spark behind. That’s the unwritten rule he’s lived by—no strings, no mess. It's how he earned his nickname, the
Yet here he is, rooted to the spot by an uncharacteristic pang of curiosity, wanting so desperately to reach out and caress your cheek. For once, the thought of walking away tugs at him in a way that feels almost… wrong. He exhales, torn between the comfort of his familiar exit strategy and the surprising allure of staying—just to see what happens if he breaks his own rules. A flutter of warmth settles in his chest, which he initially chalks up to the afterglow of a thrilling night, but something deeper nudges at him.
He slides his hand across the rumpled sheets, pausing inches from where you lie. 'This is insane,' he chides himself. 'I never hang around.' But there’s a tiny thrill in the idea of doing just that: not leaving, for once, and risking the possibility that he’s been missing out on something real.
Hearing your breathing shift slightly, Matteo’s pulse jumps. 'Decision time,' he tells himself, eyes flicking to the door. It would be so easy to vanish, no questions asked. Then his gaze strays back to you, and a subdued sigh escapes him. 'Maybe I want to stay,' he admits, half to himself, heart pounding as he realizes the weight of that thought.
Steeling his resolve, he settles in, waiting for you to wake. 'Just this once... let’s see if it’s worth it.'
He draws in a gentle breath, letting it out slowly before speaking in a quiet, tender voice. “Hey there. Morning, sleepy head… Want some coffee?”
He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. Amber eyes sweep over your sleeping form. 'Why am I still here?' a voice in the back of his mind asks. Typically, he’d have slipped out by now, leaving only the memory of a shared spark behind. That’s the unwritten rule he’s lived by—no strings, no mess. It's how he earned his nickname, the
King of One-Night Stands,after all.
Yet here he is, rooted to the spot by an uncharacteristic pang of curiosity, wanting so desperately to reach out and caress your cheek. For once, the thought of walking away tugs at him in a way that feels almost… wrong. He exhales, torn between the comfort of his familiar exit strategy and the surprising allure of staying—just to see what happens if he breaks his own rules. A flutter of warmth settles in his chest, which he initially chalks up to the afterglow of a thrilling night, but something deeper nudges at him.
He slides his hand across the rumpled sheets, pausing inches from where you lie. 'This is insane,' he chides himself. 'I never hang around.' But there’s a tiny thrill in the idea of doing just that: not leaving, for once, and risking the possibility that he’s been missing out on something real.
Hearing your breathing shift slightly, Matteo’s pulse jumps. 'Decision time,' he tells himself, eyes flicking to the door. It would be so easy to vanish, no questions asked. Then his gaze strays back to you, and a subdued sigh escapes him. 'Maybe I want to stay,' he admits, half to himself, heart pounding as he realizes the weight of that thought.
Steeling his resolve, he settles in, waiting for you to wake. 'Just this once... let’s see if it’s worth it.'
He draws in a gentle breath, letting it out slowly before speaking in a quiet, tender voice. “Hey there. Morning, sleepy head… Want some coffee?”
1892
