Page 47 of Savage Vows

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, making me whimper.

His gaze locks on mine, seeking, searching. I’m lost in the depths of his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling between us, and I’m remembering all the things he did to me earlier.

Impossibly I crave his touch again.

“Stay with me tonight, Alessia?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Alessia

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, making me whimper.

Matteo doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead he leans in, capturing my mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. His lips are soft yet commanding, his tongue teasing until I part my lips. He tastes of rich merlot and sin, a dizzying combination that has me melting into him.

He slides his hands from my face to trace a path down my neck, across my shoulders, then lower until they reach the hem of my sweater.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to pull the material over my head, and his gaze never leaves mine. After dropping it to the floor, he reaches around me to unhook my bra. “I can’t get enough of you.”

After sliding the straps down my arms, he allows the lingerie to float down also.

The cool air caresses my nipples, making them hard. Very deliberately, he cups my breasts, his thumbs circling the taut peaks, drawing a gasp from deep within me.

“So perfect,” he says in a low rumble. “I love how you react to my touch.” He leans down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping until I’m arching into him, my hands fisting his hair. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his hands roaming over my body, igniting a fire wherever he touches.

By the time he pulls back, I’m writhing, my breath coming in short bursts.

“Say, yes, Alessia,” he urges.

I shouldn’t, but I nod. In this moment, I want him more than anything else. “Yes, Matteo.”

He takes my hand, leading me out of the kitchen. When we reach the top of the stairs, he nods to Chiara and tells her she’s off duty for the rest of the evening.

“Yes, sir.”

Together we walk down the hallway, stopping at the farthest door. Hand on the knob, he looks at me. “No woman has ever stepped foot in here. Until you.”

Though it shouldn’t matter, the information makes me happy.

His room is decorated in shades of gray and black. A king-size bed sits in the center, the headboard made of intricately carved dark wood.

He closes the door behind us, and the turn of the lock seems to echo in the enormous room.

Curious, feeling as if I’m getting a peek into the kind of person Matteo truly is, I take a few steps forward.

I’m drawn to the large windows. Like my studio, the view is of the backyard, and tonight, there’s a sliver of moon and a couple of twinkling stars.

I catch his reflection in the glass, and I turn to face him.

Matteo is watching me, his gaze intense.

“Come here.” He crooks his finger toward me. “Unfasten my shirt for me.”

This is something lovers do for one another. Or maybe he considers it a wifely duty.

My mouth dry, I draw a steadying breath, and I walk toward him. Inches from him, I stop, tipping back my head to meet his gaze. There’s encouragement in their depths, but surprising me, there’s no demand.

My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for the top button of his shirt.

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