Page 28 of Silent Vows

“See something you like,piccola?” I tease gently, trying to ease her nervousness.

She surprises me by reaching out to trace the muscles of my abdomen, her fingers following the defined lines with an artist’s appreciation. “You’re beautiful,” she whispers, then immediately looks embarrassed. “I mean…handsome? I don’t know the right word…”

I catch her wandering hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “From you, I’ll take beautiful.”

When I pull her against me, we both gasp at the first full skin-to-skin contact. Her breasts press against my chest, soft curves meeting hard muscle, and the feeling of her naked body against mine is almost too much. She fits me perfectly, like she was made for me, and every point of contact burns like fire.

“Matteo,” she breathes, and my name has never sounded more like a prayer.

I capture her mouth in a searing kiss as my hand slides between her thighs. She’s already wet for me, her body trembling as I explore her most intimate places. When I circle that sensitive bundle of nerves, she breaks the kiss with a gasp, her head falling back against the pillows.

“That’s it,” I encourage, watching her face as I slip one finger inside her, then another. She’s tight, wet heat around my fingers,and the thought of being inside her makes my control fray. “Let me hear you,piccola.”

Her moans grow louder as I work her body, learning exactly how to touch her, where to press, how to curl my fingers to make her arch off the bed. When my thumb finds her clit again, she cries out my name, her hands fisting in the sheets.

My fingers work her slowly, deliberately. She’s so wet, so responsive to every touch, her body telling me exactly what she needs even as she struggles to voice it.

“That’s it,piccola,” I encourage, watching her face as pleasure overtakes her. “Let go for me.”

Her release catches her by surprise—one moment she’s trembling on the edge, the next she’s crying out my name as she clenches around my fingers. She’s magnificent in her pleasure, all flushed skin and desperate sounds.

Before she can recover, I slide down her body, pressing kisses to her inner thighs. Her eyes fly wide when she realizes what I’m about to do.

“Matteo, what—” She tries to close her legs, but I hold them open gently.

“Trust me,” I murmur against her sensitive skin. At the first taste of her, we both groan. “Christ, you taste perfect.”

She writhes beneath my mouth, her hands fisting in the sheets as I discover every spot that makes her gasp my name. When I focus on her clit, alternating between gentle suction and firm strokes of my tongue, her thighs begin to tremble. I slide two fingers back inside her, curling them upward as I work her with my mouth.

“Oh God, Matteo, please…” Her voice breaks on my name as her second orgasm hits harder than the first. I keep going, drawing out her pleasure until she’s pulling at my hair, oversensitive and desperate.

When I finally move back up her body, her eyes are heavy-lidded with pleasure, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. I capture her mouth in a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue. Instead of shying away, she moans, pulling me closer.

“Inside me,” she begs between kisses. “I need you inside me.”

“Look at me,” I demand, positioning myself at her entrance. When those hazel eyes meet mine, I see trust mixed with desperate need. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

She nods her understanding as I begin entering her slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. The trust she’s placing in me is staggering—this beautiful, fierce woman who knows what I am, what I’ve done, and still gives herself to me completely. When I’m fully seated, I force myself to stay still, letting her adjust to my size. The sensation of her tight heat around me nearly breaks my control, but I force myself to go slow, to let her adjust to my size.

“Okay?” I ask when I’m fully seated. Every muscle in my body trembles with the effort of holding still.

“More than okay,” she breathes, rolling her hips experimentally. The movement makes us both gasp. “Move, Matteo. Please.”

I begin a slow, deep rhythm that has her arching beneath me, meeting each thrust. Her hands map my back, my shoulders, learning me as thoroughly as I’m learning her. When I shift the angle slightly, she closes her eyes and cries out, her nails scoring my skin.

“Open your eyes, Bella,” I command softly. “Look at me.”

She does, and what I see there steals my breath. No one has ever looked at me like this—not with fear or calculation or political maneuvering, but with pure acceptance. Not even Sophia, before she betrayed me, looked at me with suchcomplete trust. This slip of a girl, this artist who sees beauty in darkness, who knows the worst of me and still wants me…

She matches my rhythm instinctively, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before, as if our bodies were made for each other. When I shift the angle slightly, she cries out, her nails scoring my back. The slight pain only heightens my pleasure, makes me want to mark her in return.

“That’s it,piccola,” I encourage, feeling her begin to tighten around me again. “One more time. Come for me.”

Her release takes us both by surprise—one moment she’s gasping my name like a prayer, the next she’s shuddering beneath me, taking me with her over the edge. I muffle my groan against her throat, holding her close as we both tremble through the aftershocks. Nothing has ever felt like this, so complete, so right.

Later, as we lie tangled in the sheets, she traces patterns on my chest while I play with her hair. The lake reflects moonlight through the windows, casting everything in silver shadows. She looks ethereal in this light, like something I don’t deserve but will kill to keep.

Her fingers find a scar near my ribs—old, silvered with time. “Tell me about your childhood,” she says softly.

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