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Emma’s POV: Matteo takes my hand, but he doesn’t shake it. He grips it tightly, forcing me to relearn the calluses on his palm, his fingers, the warmth of his skin against mine. His other hand comes down on the back of my neck to keep me in place as he leans down. Not missing a beat, I return the favor with my own free hand, reaching up to grab onto the collar of his shirt. The fabric fists between my fingers. Our hands— still clasped together— are the only barriers between our bodies. In a low voice, he asks, “You really think it’s that easy?” I smile up at him. A taunt. A challenge. “Careful, Matteo, your real face is showing. It’s been a while since you took off the mask. Nice to see you again.” “If you wanted me to get rough,” he whispers, “all you had to do was ask.” “What