He was relentless, kissing the very life out of her as Alia found herself instinctively moving with him despite the initial montary freeze.
His tongue ran across her lips, prying them open before deepening their kiss. Alia wled helplessly at his onslaught, her hands pushing at his shoulders, trying to push him away, but it was futile. Matteo was built like a brick wall, and while Alia was no frail weakling, her attempts to get away were simply inconsequential in the face of Matteo’s strength.
And Matteo had no intention of letting her go. His gaze was hungry― no, it was ravenous. His pupils lingered on her face as his hands started to roam down her body. Alia couldn’t stop the startled moan that escaped her lips when one of his hands drifted to her breasts, squeezing it expertly through her shirt. Another hand drifted to her butt, shifting her skirt up to touch the soft unblemished skin of her inner thighs.
If only Matteo was fully aware of what he was doing. Alia despaired, frantically thinking of ways to snap him out of this strange haze. Was he drunk? Or drugged? No matter what, she had to stop him before he did sothing they would both regret.
The mont he released her mouth to take a quick breath, Alia steeled herself and slamd her head against his. The ringing in her ears was a small price to pay as Matteo’s hands lost their iron grip on her body and she took this chance to smack him once more on the face for good asure.
"Snap out of it, Matteo!" Alia cried out, "This isn’t you! Wake up!"
Matteo let out a low, pained groan, shaking his head as though he was a dog trying to get water out of his ears.
"No...don’t leave... again..." Matteo’s words were slow and garbled, but he tried to reach for her again.
Afraid that it might lead to a repeat of the kiss, Alia hurriedly scuttled over to the door to unlock it, and Ronan barged inside, a look of abject horror on his face when he registered the state of her clothes. His eyes t Matteo’s, and he cursed under his breath when he realized his best friend was only clad in his boxers.
He imdiately planted himself before Alia protectively, his arms outstretched to stop him.
"Jesus Christ! Matteo, what the fuck were you doing?"
A look of anger crossed Matteo’s face when he registered Ronan’s presence. He took a shaky step forward and swung his fist.
"Ronan, look out!" Alia scread and ducked out of the way, but Ronan grabbed Matteo’s haphazard punch and proceeded to pin him against the ground, placing his knee against the small of his back to stop him from escaping.
"You fucking idiot!" Ronan exclaid while Matteo continued to squirm to get free. "What did that woman feed you? Alia, get so water!"
"Got it!" Alia dashed to the kitchen and brought over the pitcher of water, along with a cup.
To her surprise, Ronan didn’t bother reaching for the cup― he imdiately dunked the contents of the pitcher all over Matteo’s head!
Matteo coughed and spluttered, looking more like a drowned dog than a man. However, clarity was slowly returning to his eyes. He craned his neck to stare at Alia’s disheveled clothes and swollen lips, then at Ronan’s panicked furious expression, and then at the ss that was his bedroom.
"What... what happened?" Matteo croaked out.
"Are you sober now?" Ronan asked, keeping his weight on Matteo. "Do you know who we are?"
"You are Ronan, this is Alia..." Matteo said shakily. "But if you’re here, where is Emline?"
"That woman? Long gone by now, if she has any sense," Ronan said grimly, but he finally moved away from Matteo, giving him a once over as he held out a hand to pull him up. "How are you feeling now? Thirsty? Hungry? How many pairs of eyes do I have?"
"One," Matteo answered instinctively. His attention was all on Alia. However, when he took a step towards her, Alia imdiately stepped back as if she was afraid.
His heart sank. What had he done?
"What happened, Alia?" Matteo pleaded, "Did I... Did I hurt you? Tell !"
"No, nothing like that happened," Alia said reassuringly as she began to tidy up her clothes, pulling down her skirt and smoothing out her shirt and hair. "I stopped you before things could go too far."
"But they did go in that direction," Matteo said woodenly, as the realization hit him. He felt as though he had been sent into the deepest pits of hell, and for once, it would have been deserved. "I have taken advantage of you. There is no excuse for my behavior. I am truly sorry."
"It’s okay, you were not yourself," Alia said, her tone softening as she noticed the wretched expression on his face.
Matteo was definitely blaming himself for sothing out of his control― he might have brought Emline to his apartnt, but Alia highly doubted he planned on sleeping with her.
Or maybe he simply didn’t want to sleep with Alia. That was a sobering thought.
"Sothing was definitely not right with you just now," Ronan added. "Do you recall what happened during the dinner? Could she have slipped you sothing while you weren’t aware?"
"I... I don’t know..." Matteo confessed. The pounding in his head intensified the more he tried to recall earlier events. "There was... she said sothing about the wedding. I was drinking a lot. She kept on talking. I didn’t see her put anything into the wine."
"Doesn’t an she didn’t," Ronan said, a snarl on his face. "I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. She wants to be your wife very badly, Matteo."
"I know," Matteo said, rubbing his temples anxiously. There was a hole in his mory, and he disliked it imnsely.
Then a vision floated in his mind. It was Alia, nipping at his jaw as their legs tangled together under his sheets, her white lace lingerie teasing him to reckless abandon as he wanted to pry it off her.
Oh god. Heat rose through his body.
Did he...
No, Alia was still completely dressed. There was no way she could have done that so quickly.
Which ant...
Matteo’s face paled as the realization hit him harder than the combined blows from Ronan and Alia.
He had slept with Emline Hawthorne.
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