Page 89 of Savage Vows

He knows. He always knows.

He lifts me onto the bed and presses me back, pinning me with his much larger body.

When he finally enters me, it’s different from every time before. Fast, deep, possessively, as if he’s claiming what’s his.

“Take me,” he demands.

Obediently I wrap my legs around him, drawing him closer, needing this promise as much as he does.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice gruff.

In his eyes, I see everything we haven’t said, everything we might never say.

He fucks me hard, and pressure builds in me like a gathering storm.

“Give me your orgasm, Alessia. Fucking give it to me.”

His words, his actions, shove me over the edge.

Crying out his name, I climax harder than I ever have before.

Moments later, in a pulse of release, he follows, burying his face in my neck. For long moments afterward, we lie tangled together. My heart gradually slows to match Matteo’s rhythm.

“You belong to me.” He presses a kiss to my temple.

I don’t answer, but I nestle closer.

He’s never said “I love you.”

But then, neither have I.

Moments later, his phone insistently shatters the silence, and someone pounds on our bedroom door.

Matteo squeezes his eyes shut.“Fuck.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Matteo

Except for the faint ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall, the house is still. The morning air smells faintly of coffee and rain.

I pour myself a second cup, the rich, bitter aroma almost sharp enough to cut through my exhaustion.

Quietly Alessia joins me, wearing one of my shirts and nothing else. The material barely covers her buttocks, and it skimming her thighs in a way that makes my throat tighten.

Her thick hair hangs around her face and trails down her back in a tumble of chestnut waves. Her beauty has me captivated.

She walks past me to grab a cup, and when she reaches to fill it from the coffeepot, I realize I didn’t think to pour her one.

I’m slipping.

“Good morning,” she says softly, as she pulls her vanilla creamer from the refrigerator. Her voice is a little husky, laced with sleep.

I glance at her, then back at my cup. “Nico and Dante will be here soon.” Like they have been every day since my father passed.

She pauses, her fingers wrapped around the handle of the cup. “Is this going to be a regular thing?”

“Yeah.” Just like it had been at my father’s house. “Every day,” I tell her.Unless I fail to ascend into my father’s position.But she doesn’t need to be burdened by my troubles. She has enough of her own.