The End of a Marriage (Colette and Matheo) novel Chapter 162

Chapter 55

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Amber lay in Luca’s arms, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, her legs weak and unsteady as though they could no longer

support her weight even if she tried. Her voice was hoarse, worn raw from trying out his name, her breaths shallow and uneven as she struggled to recover. The remnants of her torn panties still bound her wrists to the headboard, a testament to the unbridled passion they had

shared.

She had initially felt a flicker of disappointment when it became clear they couldn’t consummate the night in the way she had longed for. It was a fleeting thought, drowned out by the firestorm he had unleashed within her. Luca had taken care of her, over and over again, driving her to peaks she hadn’t known were possible, until her body was a trembling blissful mess.

Now, utterly spent, Amber could barely summon the energy to move. Every part of her ached–not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of what they had shared. Her chest rose and fell in time with his, her head resting limply against his shoulder. She felt him shifting beside her, his warm, calloused fingers carefully working to untie her makeshift restraints.

As soon as her wrists were free, she instinctively reached up, draping her arms around his neck, clinging to him like a lifeline. Luca let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and rumbling in his chest, his amusement tinged with affection.

“You’re not letting me go, are you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple.

Amber’s only response was a sleepy murmur as she nuzzled closer, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She was too exhausted to speak, too overwhelmed to do anything but hold him. Luca shifted again, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer as he eased them both

down onto the bed.

He reached for the duvet, tugging it up and over their bodies, cocooning them in warmth. The scent of him–musky and familiar–filled her senses, lulling her into a state of deep, bone–deep contentment. Amber’s head rested against his chest, her ear pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a sound that anchored her, a quiet reassurance that she was safe, cherished.

His hand moved to her hair, his fingers threading gently through the strands as his thumb grazed the curve of her scalp in soothing, rhythmic motions. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes–a tender, unspoken promise that she was his, and he would always care for her.

“Goodnight, mia amore,” Luca whispered, his voice soft and velvety, the words carrying the weight of his love for her. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips warm against her skin.

Amber jolted awake, startled by the cacophony coming from the other side of the bedroom door. She sat up quickly, the duvet slipping down her bare shoulders as she rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the lingering haze of sleep. Judging by the sunlight flooding through the window, it was no longer morning but well into noon. Still naked from the night before, she glanced around and noticed Luca was nowhere to be seen.

The sounds were unsettling–a mix of thuds, cheers, and crashes that sent her heart racing. It sounded less like a household and more like a battlefield. Pulling the duvet tighter around her for a moment of composure, she sighed before slipping into her robe and tying it hastily around her waist. Her bare feet padded against the cool floor as she made her way toward the commotion, her stomach sinking with each

sound.

When Amber stepped into the living room, her jaw nearly dropped. The space, once tidy and serene, had been transformed into what could only be described as a makeshift basketball court. A broken laundry hamper had been strung up high on the wall, precariously tied to a light fixture. Nico was in the center of the chaos, energetically tossing objects into the hoop. His ammunition? Anything he could get his hands on—old balls, teddies, slippers, even what appeared to be one of Amber’s throw pillows.

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10:23 Fri, Feb 13 BBD.

Chapter 162

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Her son’s wild enthusiasm was contagious but also maddening. As he launched a worn slipper through the hoop with exaggerated flair, he turned to her with wide, sparkling eyes.

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