Page 52 of Vows Made in Silence
“Luca—” I breathe, trembling.
My blouse slips from my shoulder, baring skin he once claimed as his. Scars and all.
His eyes rake over me—not with pity. But with hunger. And something else… reverence. He pulls me to him, mouth crushing mine in a kiss that sets fire to every memory I buried. It’s not sweet. It’s raw. Fierce. Every motion a declaration: you’re mine.
“Shhh,” he says, his voice low. "I need you."
As his hands moved to my skin, exposing my collarbone, my shoulder, I realized I had been lying to myself. The longing was still there, and it terrified me.
Luca’s fingers traced the scars on my arm, his touch gentle now, almost reverent. I closed my eyes, letting myself feel the warmth of his skin against mine. But the tenderness didn’t last. He pulled me closer, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was desperate, hungry, as if he were trying to consume me whole.
I tasted whiskey on his tongue, bitter and strong, and it sent a shiver down my spine. My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. He was still the same Luca—powerful, relentless, obsessive—and I was still the same Guiliana, unable to resist him, even though I knew I should.
His hands moved down my body without a second thought. Buttons scattered across the floor, forgotten, as his fingers traced the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips.
I gasped as his lips left mine, trailing kisses down my neck, my collarbone, his breath hot against my skin. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but there was no stopping him now—and I didn’t want to stop him.
“You’re mine,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a dark promise. “You always have been.”
I couldn’t respond. My thoughts were a wrecking storm, my body fevered with need, and I was drowning in the gravity of his touch. I felt the heat of him in every nerve ending, the possessive urgency in his hands as they slid to my dirty worn jeans, gripping the fabric like it had wronged him.
He yanked them down my legs with that same efficiency, like a man claiming what was his by right.
I didn’t protest. I couldn’t. Because deep inside, I wanted him to take me like this. To strip me down until there was nothing left but the raw, unspoken truth between us—that no matter what we endured, we always belonged to each other.
His gaze devoured me, and I burned under the weight of it. It wasn’t just lust. It was hunger laced with regret. A need sharpened by every year we’d spent apart. And I was ready to be consumed.
I felt the flush crawl up my throat, down my chest. I haven’t seen him look at me like this—not since the night we crawled up the back stairs to his bedroom where we were just Luca and Guiliana. No dynasties. No bloodlines. Just two reckless high school sweethearts believing love could be enough.
But now, here, in this room charged with danger and lust, time peels back. The world outside disappears, and I can feel the warmth of his mouth whispering promises against my neck.For a breathless moment, I’m that girl again—hopelessly in love with a boy born into an Empire of danger.
Luca stands abruptly, yanking me to my feet, and before I can blink, I’m pinned against the wall. His body is a wall of heat and muscle, pressing into mine with relentless force. His hands grip my hips—firm, claiming—and his mouth crashes against mine with a kiss so deep it threatens to shatter me.
I moan, the sound raw and helpless as my head tilts back, hitting the wall behind me. His tongue demands entrance, and I give it, surrendering to the storm.
His lips curl against mine, that familiar smirk ghosting across them like a threat and a promise.
“Miss me?” he whispers, his breath scalding my ear, dragging a tremble from deep within me.
I don’t speak, but my body does. My fingers tremble as they move to his belt, struggling with the buckle like it’s the only thing between me and oxygen. Luca steps back just enough to give me space, his mouth curved in a dark, knowing smirk. His pants drop, and I freeze.
He’s hard—aching, ready. Every inch of him is sculpted want and furious devotion. And it’s for me.
My breath catches, but he doesn’t let me dwell. In one swift, brutal motion, his hands grip my thighs and he lifts me. My back slams against the wall, his body pressing into mine like a tidal wave. And then he’s inside me.
I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he fills me completely. It’s too much and not enough all at once. The stretch, the fullness, the shock of being whole again after years of brokenness—it crashes over me in a tidal surge. There’s no room for doubt. Only him.
“Luca,” I whisper, my voice shaky, but he doesn't let me finish. His mouth finds mine again, devouring me, silencing every word with the taste of his hunger.
He moves within me—rough, urgent, like a storm barely leashed. Each thrust sends me higher, deeper into the kind of madness I’ve only ever known with him. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, anchoring myself to the man who both broke me and made me whole.
The room fills with the rhythm of our bodies—skin meeting skin, breath against breath, a raw melody of desperation and possession. His hands grip my thighs, fingertips branding me, control unraveling with every pounding heartbeat.
I match him move for move, my hips rising to meet his, my nails raking down his back. The need builds, relentless, a fire tightening in my core until I shatter around him, crying out his name as my body convulses with release.
Until he suddenly turns me around and takes me from the back so hard I have to hold on to the wall so as not to collide with it as I enter a euphoria with each thrust until I am so deep inside the black hole of surrender.
And in the aftermath, I feel him follow, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he buries himself in me—lost, wrecked, mine.
