Page 44 of Untamed

The woman cries out, but he doesn't slow.

Doesn’t kiss her.

Doesn’t look at her.

His face, God, his face, is cold. Detached, like she’s not even there.

Like he’s not fucking her, he’s exorcising something black and ugly inside him.

My heart pounds against my ribs, painful and frantic. I’m trembling, half from the chill of the water and half from the shame curling low in my stomach.

I should leave. I should hide.

But I stay, and I watch. I watch, unblinking, the way his muscles tense with every savage thrust, the way his fingers dig bruises into her skin, the way his mouth stays hard and set, as if he’s punishing himself more than he’s punishing her.

And somewhere between horror and fascination, I realise, I’m jealous.

Jealous of the woman gasping under him. Jealous of the way he’s using her body, even if there’s no affection in it. I realise then thatIwant to be the one he loses himself in.Iwant to be the one who makes him break.

Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t wipe them away. I just let them fall into the water, vanishing like they were never there.

It’s over quickly.

Ares bites down on his lip, visibly shudders against the woman with one final thrust. Everything goes still for about ten seconds, and then he pulls back, fumbles for a second and zips up his jeans without so much as a glance at her.

The woman slumps against the wall, dazed, already forgotten. Ares disappears through the door without a word, slamming it behind him, leaving her half-naked and breathless in the moonlight.

What. The. Fuck.

I sink lower into the pool, the cold water lapping at my chin. I don't know how long I float there after he’s gone. My mind in a haze, shivering in the dark, my heart broken open by something I don’t even understand.

All I know is that I’m ruined. And Ares Russo doesn't even know he’s the one who broke me.

The water feels like an icy embrace against my skin, numbing everything except the slow, aching throb in my chest that is pulsing like a distant drumbeat. I drift in the rooftop pool beneath a canopy of shimmering stars, feeling the world around me tilt as if I am caught in a slow spin. Vivid images replay relentlessly behind my closed eyes...Ares, that woman, the way he touched her, his hands rough and detached, as though the contact meant absolutely nothing to him. As though he felt nothing at all.

A sharp, twisting pain knots my stomach, a relentless reminder of my own foolishness. How could I have been so utterly, blindingly stupid? So naive to let myself believe, believe what, exactly? That he genuinely cared? That I matter in any significant way in his universe? All because he saved you a couple of times. Because he calls youbambina. It’s not a term of endearment. It literally meanslittle girl, you senseless fool.

“Shit,”

Take a good look at the woman he just fucked and then look at yourself. What could a man like Ares possibly want with an inexperienced, naive kid like you?

Amidst the tumultuous battle raging in my own mind, the sound of footsteps resonates sharply across the terrace, their echoesslicing through the stillness of the night like a knife. Oh crap. I jerk upright, sending the water cascading chaotically around me, as my heart catapults into my throat, pounding with a sudden, frantic rhythm. The door opens with an eerie, drawn-out creak, and I brace myself to see who emerges. It’s not Ares. It’s Matteo.

A sense of disappointment washes over me, deflating the hopeful anticipation that had foolishly taken root within me, expecting to see Ares. Matteo strides across the cool stone patio, his bare feet making soft, rhythmic contact with the surface. A pair of black swim shorts hangs low on his hips, his skin glistening faintly under the terrace lights, his hair tousled like he’s just rolled out of bed. His hazel eyes find mine, and for a second, something flickers across his face. Surprise, amusement, something darker underneath. Then, a lazy grin curls his lips, cocky and boyish all at once.

“Well, well,” Matteo drawls as he saunters closer, crouching at the edge of the pool so we’re eye-level. His voice is low and teasing, threaded with mischief. “Fossette. Didn’t think I’d find company up here tonight.”

I force a smile, trying not to squirm under the weight of his gaze. I’m literally in my underwear, lace, white, practically see-through now that it’s soaked and clinging to every curve of my body. For a second, a beat of embarrassment flares hot in my chest, but I push it down. Because tonight, I don’t want to care.

“That makes two of us,” I murmur, my voice steadier than I feel.

Matteo’s gaze drifts slowly over me, a slow, deliberate sweep that leaves a trail of heat in its wake. His smirk deepens, but he doesn’t move closer. He just watches me like he’s waiting for me to make the first move. “I thought everyone was asleep,” I add, my fingers trailing lazily through the water.

“Is that why you’re swimming half-naked, Fossette?” he teases, his grin widening.

I shrug, tilting my head. “I couldn’t find my swimsuit.”

Matteo chuckles, low and rich. He runs a hand through his hair, the motion making his biceps flex just slightly. “I’ll have to remember to thank the staff for misplacing it.” The air between us thickens, charged with something electric. I drift a little closer, feeling reckless and weightless all at once. For once, I want to be the one holding the power. I want to forget, especially what I saw a moment ago.

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