Page 88 of Savage Vows

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Father Thomas declares, and when Matteo kisses me, I’m lost.

When he arrived in England, I felt as if my life was ending.

Today seems like a new beginning.

“If you want another ceremony, we can have one at a later date,” he tells me.

“No.” I shake my head. “This one is fine.”

And yet as we sign the actual marriage certificate, witnessed by Nico and Bella, I feel empty, let down in some way.

I’ve had all this anxiety since I arrived in Texas, and now everything is behind me.

Before we leave the premises, I change back into my regular clothes. Cinderella is no longer a princess, and we will not have a honeymoon.

In the car, Matteo swaps out his tie.

So the pictures look different, I realize. No one who sees him will question the actual date we were married.

Instead of talking on our way back, he picks up his phone and calls Dante. “It’s done.”

Is this how he’s talking about one of the biggest days of my life?

The day drags, both a blur and agony.

Near midnight, Nico walks over to us. “Go home,” he tells us firmly. “Your father will rest better knowing his son’s marriage is…” He clears his throat meaningfully. “Well, you know.”

Though Matteo doesn’t react, I blush.

As we leave the hospital, Matteo’s hand finds mine, our matching rings sparkling in the bright overhead lights. The weight of the band is foreign yet right, like a key clicking into a lock I didn’t know existed.

I’m sure I’ve made the right decision.

When we arrive home, Matteo scoops me up into his arms. The air rushes out of me, but before I can protest, he carries me across the threshold. “Welcome home, Mrs. Moretti,” he murmurs against my hair.

Moretti.Alessia Moretti.

Will I ever get used to that name?

In our bedroom, Matteo sets me down gently, and he slides his hands down to my waist.

“This can’t have been what you imagined for yourself,” he says softly, unbuttoning my blouse. “But I will spend my days making it up to you.”

I reach up to trace the strong line of his jaw. “It was perfect the way it was,” I tell him, shoving aside my niggling doubts about our vows. This Matteo—looking at me with such raw emotion—is the man I’ve come to care for. “It was us.”

His kiss starts tender but quickly deepens, igniting the passion that’s always simmering between us.

Quickly, like a man desperate, he strips me.

Standing before him, naked in the moonlight, I loosen his tie, needing to feel his skin against mine.

“So fucking beautiful.” He backs me up to the bed. “My wife.”

The possessiveness in his voice should frighten me, but instead it sends shivers of anticipation down my spine. His mouth traces a path down my throat, across my collarbone, then lower.

When he reaches my pussy, I’m already jerking my hips toward him, desperate for him.

“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.

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