Page 21 of Savage Vows

Noticing my response, he intensifies the kiss, seeking entrance. A tiny moan escapes, a reluctant sound of surrender, and he takes it as the invitation it is. His hands leave my shoulders. With one, he cups my cheek, as if I’m precious. He wraps his free arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

In an instant, his kiss turns passionate, his tongue dancing with mine, exploring, tasting …claiming. The warmth of his body makes mine even hotter, and his hard cock presses against me.

I’m lost in him and the moment. Overriding my sense of preservation, I arch into him, craving more of him and everything he’s offering. Matteo Moretti is an all-consuming storm that sweeps me up and carries me away.

But just as suddenly, he gentles the kiss, and he pulls back slightly. Then he ends it entirely, leaving me aching.

Gently he traces my cheekbone and searches my gaze. “You didn’t want any of that?”

“No,” I insist, the word emerging too, too quickly.

“I see.” Once more, he brushes his lips against mine, a caress that makes my breath catch, and he knows it. “Your lying mouth says one thing, little rebel, but your response says something different.” His gravelly words are so sensual that they seem to ripple through me.

Between us, the air hangs heavy, charged with electricity, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Finally he steps away, giving me space to breathe, to think.

“Lock your door, Alessia. Unless you want me to prove that you want me every bit as much as I want you?”

CHAPTER SIX

Matteo

I reach around her, my arm brushing against her softness, to open the door. She hesitates, her breathing still ragged from our intense exchange. My patience wearing thin, I once again cup her shoulders.

“Matteo …”

Restraint is the better part of valor, I tell myself.

With determination, I turn her around. With my hand on the delicate curve of her lower back, I give her a tiny nudge, guiding her inside the room where she will be safe from me.

Lock the fucking door, Alessia.

Long moments later, it clicks closed.

Jesus.

I hadn’t expected that kind of physical reaction to my future wife. Every instinct in me roars to life, a primal need to claim, to possess, to protect.

Frustrated, I plow a hand into my hair. What the hell is this woman doing to me?

Until five minutes ago, I had everything under control. Our arrangement would be simple, straightforward, nothing more than a strategic alliance. We’d get married, have children. She’d be the perfect Mafia wife, like my mother.

But nothing about Alessia is straightforward. Her defiance, her innocence, her goddamn allure … She’s driving me fucking crazy.

All the energy and frustration that has gnawed at me since Nash informed me she’d been found catches up, demanding an outlet.

Needing to do something, anything, to burn off this restlessness, I stride down the hall, stripping off my shirt as I go. My lieutenant acknowledges me, and I momentarily pause. “She’s not to leave this house.”

“Understood, boss.”

At least I don’t have to worry about her attempting a getaway in the middle of the night. Already I know her too well. Her reaction to me—soft and sensual—has to bother her as much as it does me.

In my room, I change into workout gear. Then I jog up the stairs to the third-story workout room that is designed to be as much a sanctuary as a battlefield. Inside, the machines cast long shadows across the floor. I don’t bother with the lights; I don’t need them.

I head straight for the punching bag hanging in the corner, my fists already clenched.

The first satisfyingly hard strike jolts up my arms, grounding me.

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