Page 144 of Untamed

“You wrecked me,” I pant, voice low and rough. “You fucking wrecked me,bambina.”

She’s still kneeling, but there’s nothing submissive about her. She’s powerful like this, still, sure, made of heat and something I’ve never been able to name.

“You wrecked me,” I murmur, voice low and rough. “You fucking wrecked me,bambina.”

Her eyes hold mine, bright, vulnerable, unflinching. There’s no shame in them. No sign of regret. Just her. Raw, open and whollymine.

I pull her up, slow and steady, and her body comes with mine like it’s instinct. She’s still slick from the water, warm and trembling as she rises to her feet. My hands stay on her hipsas I search her face for any sign she’s overwhelmed. For even a flicker of doubt.

But she doesn’t look away.

She’s breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling. Lips swollen.

And then she does something that fucking undoes me, she leans her forehead against mine.

My hands slide up her back, hold her close, the water pouring over both of us, masking the sound of our breaths tangled in the small space between us.

“Most people only ever get a piece of me,” I say, voice low and even. “But you took every fucking part and made it yours.” I hear her breath catch in her throat, her long lashes flutter while she looks up at me with such tenderness it makes me ache.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to, because her hands slide up my chest and curl at the nape of my neck, her fingers threading into the short hairs there.

And I let her. I let her feel what she already owns, and I do what I’m bursting to. I kiss her and savour the taste of myself on her tongue.

Fuck. Obsession was child’s play compared to what I feel now.

I’ve never done this before. Never even let my thoughts drift far enough to imagine what it would feel like, whathewould taste like. But now, with him trembling under my touch, one hand buried in my hair and the other clenched on the glass door like he’s holding onto the last thread of control, I understand why this moment isn’t something people forget.

He tastes like salt and skin, like heat and power stripped bare. The sharp tang of him is unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, intoxicating in its own way. He’s velvet over steel on my tongue, every twitch and pulse a new discovery. I feel him come undone in the most primal, vulnerable way. And I’m the reason.

Me.

My lips slide, guided more by instinct than experience, but I can feel it, feelhim, reacting to every flick of my tongue, every slow pull that draws another guttural sound from deep in his chest. It’s not just arousal in his voice, it’s exaltation. Like he didn’t expect this. Like he never lets go, but somehow... he’s letting go forme.

There’s power in that. Not the kind you wield. The kind you’re entrusted with and even on my knees, kneeling before him, I’ve never felt more powerful in my life.

His breath shudders, his thighs tense, and then it happens, he breaks. All at once. The moan that tears from his throat is almost a growl, thick and low, and his body arches as he spills into my mouth, raw and unfiltered. It’s messy and warm, overwhelming and intimate in a way I wasn’t prepared for, but I don’t pull away. I stay. I take all of it, and something about that feels important. Like a promise. Like a claim. And when he pants my name, I feel iteverywhere.

When it’s over, he collapses back against the tiled wall, chest heaving, hand still tangled in my hair like he can’t quite let me go. And I don’t think I want him to, not now, not ever. Ares reaches down, his fingers curling beneath my jaw, lifting my gaze to meet his

He’s staring at me like I just broke him, and when our eyes lock,damn. It’s not lust I see in his. It’s devastation. It’s hunger, like I’ve ruined him in the best possible way.

His thumb drags slowly across my lower lip, and I exhale slowly.

“You wrecked me,” he says, voice rough and wrecked. “You fucking wrecked me, bambina.”

There’s no fear in me. No shame. Just this trembling kind of certainty as I hold his gaze, as I stay right where I am, not because he wants me here, but because I want to be. Because Ichosethis. Him.

He pulls me up, slow and careful like I’m something fragile. Like I matter. My body follows his like it knows the way, still trembling under the weight of everything we just shared. His hands are warm on my hips, anchoring me, and even through the steam and water pouring down around us, I feel the way his gaze searches mine, and I know he’s looking for doubt, for hesitation.

But there’s none. Because I don’t regret it, not a damn second.

My chest is heaving, heart racing, and I know I must look a mess, wet, breathless, undone, but when I press my forehead to his, it’s the only thing that makes sense. The way we fit. The quiet between us, filled only by the rush of water and the shared beat of our hearts.

His hands slide up my back, holding me close. Not like a man clinging to control, but like a man giving it up.

“Most people only ever get a piece of me, bambina.” he murmurs, voice quiet but heavy with meaning. “But you took every fucking part and made it yours.”

My breath catches. My heart clenches so hard it hurts.

---