Page 37 of Savage Vows

He takes the weight of my breasts into his hand and once more brushes his thumbs over my nipples. They’re even harder now. The need I felt in the car is back and even stronger than before.

“Now the panties,” he orders. “Take them off.”

How am I letting this happen? When I’m around Matteo, it’s as if my body has a mind of its own.

My hands are shaking as I hook my thumbs into the waistband. Then I wiggle the silk down over my hips and then drop it to the floor.

“Beautiful.”

My gaze is locked on his gorgeous face.

“Now hand them to me.”

I blink.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, little rebel. You won’t like the consequences.”

His voice is so growly that it sends a shiver through me.

Completely naked, flushed with arousal and the thrill of the unknown, I obey.

He takes the small scrap of material from me and raises it to his nose. “I fucking love the way you get hot for me.”

I want to deny the truth of what he says, but the words stick in my throat.

Motions deliberate, he pockets my panties. Then he shrugs out of his suit coat and casually tosses it over the back of a barstool. “Move over there.” He points to a spot a small distance away.

The blinds are open. Because of the tint on the windows, I know that no one can see in, and yet the whisper of warning from my brain only enhances my arousal.

I’d never considered myself an exhibitionist. But then again, I had posed for Gabriel’s art class.

“Spread your legs wider.”

At least at Elysian Hall, I was covered by something, even if it was sheer.

I do as he says, and my pussy throbs with awareness.

Taking his sweet time, he allows his gaze to sweep over me, taking in every curve, every secret place. I’ve never felt more desired, more wanted.

“You’re a vision, Alessia. And you’re all mine. No one will ever again see your naked body.”

His words are possessive, something I usually rebel against. So why aren’t I arguing with him?

“You still need to be punished for that.”

“Punished?” I gasp. “For what?”

“Taking off your clothes for another man.”

“That’s outrageous. I didn’t take my clothes off for any man.” My protest is instant. “In fact?—”

He holds up his hand to interrupt me. “Did he ask you to model for him?” His words are quiet, wrapped in lethal intensity. In jealousy?

“Everyone in the class is expected to take a turn.”

“Who was first to strip themselves naked?” His voice is low, well controlled, slightly terrifying.

I draw in a shaky breath.

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