Page 47 of Untamed

My fingers skim his chest. “Then don’t.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Just closes the space between us with slow, deliberate steps until my back hits the edge of the pool. His hands find my hips under the water, firm and possessive, thumbs grazing skin just beneath the fabric of my underwear.

“I need you to guide me here, Fossette,” Matteo whispers, eyes dark, voice frayed at the edges. “I need you to tell me what you want. Because if you don’t, I’ll lose control and I don’t want to fuck this up or pressure you into anything you’re not ready to do.”

Matteo doesn’t move.

His gaze flicks to my lips like he wants to kiss me,needsto, but he doesn’t. Something in my expression must warn him off. Instead, he drops his forehead to my shoulder with a strained groan, the sound rumbling through my skin like a low-voltage current.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “You’re killing me, dolcezza.”

His hands slide down to my thighs, gripping tight, fingertips sinking into the flesh like he’s anchoring himself. I let my legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against me in the water. The pressure makes us both gasp.

I feel the length of him against me. He’s hard. So hard. And now, he’s pressed right where I’m pulsing with need.

My hips shift on instinct, and he growls, a rough, guttural sound that sends heat rushing down my spine. His hands clutch my waist, guiding me, rocking me against him slowly, sinfully, our bodies grinding through wet clothes that feel suddenly too thin.

“You feel that?” he pants, forehead pressed to my collarbone. “That’s what you fucking do to me, Jordyn. Every time you look at me like that.”

My fingers knot in his hair, tugging gently as my hips roll against his. Every slow drag of friction makes it harder to breathe, harder to think. I’m trembling, not out of fear, but from the overwhelmingachebuilding between us.

Matteo’s hand trails up my spine, cupping the back of my neck like he’s seconds from losing control. But he doesn’t kiss me. He just groans into my skin, hot breath brushing the curve of my neck.

“I want to taste you so bad,” he mutters. “But I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you want me to. Just let me feel you like this.”

I nod, throat too tight for words.

So he keeps going. Slow, steady grinds that make both of us feral, bodies slick and desperate, water sloshing around us as tension coils tighter with every pass of his hips. I bite down on my lip tokeep from crying out, nails dragging down his back as the edge creeps closer, hotter, sharper.

Neither of us says a word. But we both know, we’re tethering dangerously close to something neither of us will be able to take back.

The world narrows to nothing but the roll of his hips, the way he groans low and filthy against my throat every time I grind back just right.

“Just like that,” he pants. “God, baby, don’t stop.”

My fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping me upright. Water splashes quietly around us, our bodies a tangled, frantic mess beneath the surface. It’s messy. It’s desperate. And it’sso damn good.

Each grind hits deeper, slower, heavier.

I feel it building inside me...a pressure, an ache, something sweet and sharp blooming low in my stomach. My head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as my body takes over.

I’m right there and so is he.

“Fuck, Jordyn, I’m—” His voice cuts off with a ragged, broken moan, his hips jerking against mine one last time before he goes completely still.

My release hits a breath after his. Silent and shattering. My legs tighten around him as the pleasure rushes through me, bright and dizzying, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Hell, I even forget that I exist.

We cling to each other, panting, trembling, the aftershocks pulsing between us.

It’s only when his head drops to my shoulder again that reality starts creeping back in.

“Holy shit,” Matteo murmurs, voice hoarse. “Did we just…”

My cheeks burn. “Yeah.”

Silence.

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