Page 74 of His Savage Ruin
Her eyes search mine, pupils blown wide, and I see the moment hunger takes over. Her fingers slide into my wet hair, and when she pulls me down, I go willingly.
The kiss starts gentle—exploratory, tasting of chlorine and moonlight. But then she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and something in me snaps. I deepen the kiss, takingcontrol, my tongue sliding against hers as I walk us toward the pool steps.
I sit on the underwater bench, settling her in my lap. Water laps at our waists. Her thighs bracket mine, and when I shift, my cock—hard and aching—slides against her. We both gasp into each other's mouths.
"I told my men tonight," I say against her lips, because she needs to know, because everything has changed. "About you."
Her hands still in my hair. "What did you tell them?"
My grip on her hips tightens, and I have to force myself to keep talking even though part of me is terrified she'll hate what I'm about to say, will look at me like I'm no different from Lorenzo. "That you're not a prisoner anymore." The words come out rougher than I intend, and I can feel my heart pounding against my ribs because this matters more than it should, her reaction matters more than anything has mattered in years. "That you're not leverage or a bargaining chip."
"Then what am I?" Her voice wavers.
I take a breath, and what comes out isn't what I planned to say, isn't the strategic explanation I rehearsed in my head. "For now, you're a guest in my house. But I need you to hear something, and I need you to understand I'm not saying this to scare you or force your hand." My throat feels tight, and I hate that I'm fumbling this. "I want you to be my wife."
She goes rigid in my arms and pulls back to search my face. "What?"
I force myself to hold her gaze even though every instinct tells me to look away, to armor myself against whatever rejection might be coming. "Within the week, I want us to get married. I know it seems like I'm just issuing orders again, because it's the only way to keep you safe. Marriage makes you mine in a way even Emilio can't question. As my wife, you have the full protection of the Romano name."
"You decided this." It's not really a question, more like an accusation.
"I decided the strategy, but I'm not deciding for you." My hands slide from her hips to her waist, gentler now, trying to show her through touch what I'm struggling to say with words. "I'm asking you to understand the reality we're in. The pregnancy lie is unraveling—someone knows, which means others will know soon. The Morettis will figure it out if they haven't already."
Her eyes flash with something I can't quite read. "And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll still protect you as long as I can, but it gets harder." I cup her face with both hands, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. "Without the marriage, you're just the woman I'm keeping in my house. Emilio can argue you're still his family's property, can make legal claims but as my wife—Alessia, as my wife, you're untouchable. Anyone who comes for you comes for me, for myentire organization, and no one is stupid enough to start that war."
She's silent, processing. I watch emotions flicker across her face—anger, fear, calculation. Something that might be hope if I'm reading it right, though I could be seeing what I want to see.
"So it's not really a choice," she says finally, and there's resignation in her voice that makes my chest ache.
My thumbs brush across her cheekbones, and I'm probably holding her too carefully, treating her like she's made of glass when I know damn well she's made of steel. "I'm not Lorenzo. I'm not going to punish you, and if you need time to think about this, take it. But I also can't lie to you about what refusing means."
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but I keep talking because if I stop now I might not get this out.
"And I'm done pretending this is just about strategy." My voice drops lower, rougher, the admission scraping out of me like broken glass. "I want you, Alessia. Not just in my bed, though Lord knows I want that too. I want you at my table. I want to see you wearing my ring. I want every man who looks at you to know you're claimed." I swallow hard," but I understand if you need time. I understand if this is too much too fast."
Her breath catches, and then, instead of fighting, she kisses me—hard, desperate, all the answer I need.
I kiss her back with everything I have, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip. She grinds down against me, and I groan into her mouth at the friction.
"Matteo—" Her voice breaks on my name.
I lift her slightly, positioning myself at her entrance. Our eyes lock as I lower her slowly onto my cock, feeling her body stretch to take me. The water adds resistance, makes every inch feel heightened, intense. When I'm fully seated inside her, we both freeze, breathing hard.
"Fuck," I groan, forehead pressed to hers. "You feel incredible."
She starts to move—rolling her hips tentatively—but I catch her, still her movements.
"No." My voice comes out harsh with need. "Not like this."
Before she can protest, I'm standing, lifting her with me, my cock still buried deep inside her. She wraps her legs tighter around my waist as I carry her up the steps, water streaming off both our bodies. The night air hits my skin, cooler than the pool, raising goosebumps.
I lay her on the warm tile at the pool's edge, the stone still holding heat from the day's sun. She's spread beneath me, hair fanning out in wet waves, skin glistening, chest heaving. The underwater lights paint her in shades of azure and shadow, and she's so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
"Matteo—"
"Shh." I pull out slowly, almost all the way, watching her face contort. "I want to savor this."
