Page 115 of Untamed

First one, then the other.

The fabric slides down my arms like a whisper, the sound nearly inaudible but deafening in the stillness between us. Cool air kisses my skin as the robe falls, gracefully and pools silently at my feet.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid, but I don’t cover myself.

I stand there in the red satin nightdress I chose without thinking. Bare legs exposed, shoulders trembling with nerves and something much deeper. The truth of it is laid bare, me, him,this, and I don’t look away.

Because I’m not unsure. And I’m not ashamed.

I’m offering him something wordless, something real. And somehow, I trust that he’ll understand what it costs to be this open, this still, thisundone.

His eyes roam over me, slow, reverent, pained. As though he’s still on the fence whether he wants to worship me or run. His throat bobs with a swallow he can’t quite hide, and I watch hishands flex against my thighs like he’s one second from losing control.

“You’re playing with fire, bambina,” he rasps, voice wrecked.

I inch closer, close enough that the silk brushes his chest. Close enough that I can feel the tension in his body radiating off him like heat. My fingers lift, threading through the thick strands of his hair. I feel him breathe, shallow and sharp.

He doesn’t have to say anything, because I know.

His choice is already made.

And so is mine.

Ares rises slowly, hands gliding up the backs of my thighs, each touch more grounding than the last. His fingers leave a trail of fire in their wake, but not the kind that burns. The kind that ignites...that claims,consumes.

Now we’re standing face to face, my breath catching in my throat as I tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. There’s no retreat in me. No hesitation. Only this moment.

Onlyhim.

His thumb brushes the curve of my jaw, then down my neck, trailing over the fluttering pulse beneath my skin. I know he can feel it, just like I can feel his eyes devouring me without even touching me.

I’m trembling, because I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this.Him.

“Fuck, we can’t do this, bambina,” he murmurs, barely audible. Like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. “I should walk away.”

“You should,” I whisper, my voice steady now. Calm and anchored in him.

I rise onto my toes, my mouth brushing his, lips grazing lips, barely there. “But you won’t.”

Because Iknowhim.

I know the way his hands tighten slightly against my face like he’s already lost the fight. I know the way his chest rises just a bit faster when I get this close. And I know the way he growls, low, guttural, wrecked, as I speak the truth out loud.

“Because you’re tired of fighting, Ares.” His breath punches out, but he doesn’t speak, so I continue. “And so am I.”

My hands lift slowly, sliding up the planes of his chest, feeling the heat of him, the way he trembles, not from weakness, but restraint. His muscles shift under my fingers, tight with tension he’s barely holding back.

“If you need to break me…” I whisper, fingers splayed across his sternum. “Break me.”

His eyes flare, dark and unreadable.

“Because it can’t feel any worse than this,” I continue, my voice fraying at the edges now. “Than you denying me your touch…”

I let the words melt against his lips, brushing my mouth over his, slow and aching, each syllable a surrender. “…your taste.”

His hands remain on my face, unmoving now—almost like he’s standing at the brink, weighing the cost of crossing a line he can’t uncross.

So, I choose for him.

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