Page 26 of Silent Vows

“Don’t.” But his voice is strained, and his eyes drop to my mouth.

“Don’t what? Tell the truth?” I turn my wrist in his grip until our fingers intertwine. His sharp intake of breath emboldens me. “You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets, Matteo.”

“Meaning?” The word comes out rough, almost a growl.

“Meaning I’ve wanted you since that day in your office.” The admission makes my cheeks burn, but I force myself to continue. “Even knowing what you are, what you’ve done…” I step closer, tilting my face up to his. “I still want you.”

His control snaps like a bowstring. One moment he’s staring at me with those intense steel-blue eyes, the next his mouth crashes down on mine with devastating force. This isn’t like our careful wedding kiss or even the interrupted passion in his study. This is brutal, demanding, a claiming.

I meet his intensity with my own, pouring all my confusion and desire and understanding into it. His hands tangle in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss until I’m gasping against his mouth.

He tastes like scotch and danger and something uniquely him that makes me dizzy. When his tongue sweeps into my mouth, demanding and possessive, a moan tears from deep in my chest.

His answering growl vibrates through both our bodies. One hand slides down my back to pull me flush against him, and I gasp at the feeling of hard muscle against my softer curves. Heat pools low in my belly as his other hand finds the bare skin ofmy shoulder where my sweater has slipped. His fingers trail fire everywhere they touch, and I arch into him helplessly.

“Christ, the sounds you make,” he groans against my throat, his stubble scraping deliciously as he trails open-mouthed kisses down my neck. Each brush of his lips sends electricity shooting through my body, making me clutch at his shoulders for support.

His teeth graze my pulse point and my head falls back, giving him better access. The hand in my hair tightens, holding me exactly where he wants me as he finds the sensitive spot behind my ear. When he bites gently, then soothes the sting with his tongue, my entire body shudders.

“Last chance to run,” he warns, his voice rough against my skin. But his hands grip me tighter, like he can’t bear the thought of letting me go.

I answer by sliding my trembling fingers to his shirt buttons. The first one slips free, revealing more of that tanned skin I’ve been dreaming about since his study. His chest rises and falls rapidly under my touch, and I feel powerful knowing I affect him as much as he affects me.

“Bella.” My name comes out like a prayer and a curse as I work on the next button. “If you start this…”

“I want this,” I breathe, pressing my lips to his thundering pulse. “I want you.”

He lets out a sound like I’ve wounded him, then his mouth is on mine again. This kiss is different—deeper, hungrier, full of dark promises that make heat spiral through me. His tongue strokes against mine in a rhythm that makes me think of other things, makes me ache in places I didn’t know could ache.

My hands flatten against his now-bare chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under my palms. His skin burns hot, all hard muscle and surprising smoothness except for the raised line of that scar. When my fingers trace it, his whole body shudders.

Whatever comes next, whatever secrets still lie between us, this is my choice. My truth. My monster who’s not really a monster at all.

Just a man who would burn the world to protect what’s his.

And now, for better or worse, I’m his too.

12

MATTEO

Bella’s trembling fingers fumble with my shirt buttons, her rapid breathing the only sound in the quiet room. I catch her hands, stilling them against my chest where my heart pounds beneath her palms. The heat of her touch burns through me, making it hard to maintain control.

“Slow down,piccola,” I murmur against her mouth, even though every instinct screams to take her right here, right now. “We have all night.”

“I don’t want slow.” She nips at my bottom lip, defiant even now, and Christ, the way she challenges me makes my blood burn. Her hands slide down my chest, leaving fire in their wake. “I want?—”

“What you want,” I growl, spinning her so her back presses against the window, “and what you need are two different things.” The glass must be cold against her skin, but she arches into me instead of away, pressing those perfect curves against my body. “Trust me to know the difference.”

Her laugh is breathless, slightly wild. “Trust the man who just confessed to murder?”

I slide one hand into her hair, tugging gently to expose the elegant line of her throat. The way she yields to me, even while maintaining that spark of defiance in her eyes, nearly undoes my control. “Trust the man who’s been dreaming of this since that day you walked into his study.” My lips trace the path of her pulse, feeling it jump beneath my tongue. “The man who’s going to worship every inch of you until you forget everything but my name.”

“Matteo,” she gasps as my teeth graze her skin, and the sound of my name on her lips sends heat straight to my groin.

“Yes,” I approve, my free hand slipping beneath her sweater to find bare skin. She’s impossibly soft, warm silk under my callused fingers. I’ve been dying to touch her like this since our encounter in my office, imagining how she’d feel, how she’d respond. The reality is better than any fantasy. “Just like that.”

She’s responsive to every touch, her sensitivity making her hyperaware of each point of contact between us. When I find a particularly sensitive spot just below her ribs, she makes a sound that shoots straight through me—half moan, half whimper. The urge to take her right here against the window is almost overwhelming, but she deserves better for our first time. For her first time.

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