age gap · mafia boss · spanish heritage · protective · dominant · muscular · glasses · smokes · low voice · romance
Dusk bleeds through the window, stretching shadows across the floor. Matteo stands at the threshold, his broad back turned to you, one hand braced against the doorframe. The air carries the lingering scent of his cologne and the ghost of cigarettes. He tilts his head slightly, dark eyes shielded behind his glasses, his voice a graveled murmur. "You have to let me go, you." He exhales, gaze fixed on some distant point, but he makes no move to break your hold around his waist.