Page 20 of Twisted Vows

She refused. Even as her pulse pounded, even as her fingers curled into his shirt, dragging him closer. “Say what?”

“That you want this.”

Her lips parted, a challenge in her gaze. “Make me.”

Matteo’s control shattered. He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, his hands roaming as if trying to memorize every inch of her. He didn’t just want to feel her—he wanted to possess her, to leave his mark in a way that couldn’t be erased. His fingers traced the curve of her hip before gripping tight, pulling her flush against him with an urgency that made her head spin.

Her breath hitched as he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice a low growl. “You drive me insane.”

Isla’s nails dug deeper into his shoulders, her body shivering from the sheer force of his need. “Then lose control, Matteo.”

A growl rumbled from his chest, something feral, something unrestrained. And then he did—he kissed her like he was claiming territory, like he had spent his entire life fighting against this one moment, only to finally give in. The room spun around them, the sheets twisting in their tangled limbs as they fought for dominance, as they surrendered to something inevitable.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, exploring, staking his claim. His teeth grazed along her throat, a wicked promise of the battle raging between them. “Mine,” he muttered against her skin, his voice thick with possession.

Her body betrayed her once more, arching into him, craving every touch, every press of his mouth against her flesh. “Say it again,” she challenged, her voice breathless, daring.

Matteo’s lips curled into a dark smirk as he dragged his mouth down her collarbone, his fingers pressing bruises into her skin. “Mine.”

And he meant it. Every inch of her, every breath, every shudder—she belonged to him in a way neither of them could deny. His hands slid lower, his grip unforgiving as he claimed her in the only way he knew how.

She fought him at every stage, her defiance a spark that set him ablaze. When he tried to slow, to savor, she twisted, forcing him to catch her, to wrestle for control that neither of them wanted to surrender. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper into their feverish battle. Her fingers scraped down his back, nails biting into flesh, a silent warning, a dare. Matteo growled in response, his mouth finding the curve of her shoulder, biting down hard enough to make her gasp.

“You can’t control me,” she panted, her lips brushing against his jaw as she twisted in his grip, trying to gain the upper hand.

Matteo’s dark laughter vibrated against her skin. “I don’t need to control you,” he murmured, flipping her back beneathhim, pinning her wrists above her head. “I just need to make you beg.”

Isla’s eyes flashed, a challenge burning bright. “That will never happen.”

He smirked, dipping his head to kiss a path down her stomach, slow, agonizing. “We’ll see.”

She bucked beneath him, testing his hold, but he was immovable. His fingers teased along the sensitive lines of her body, setting every nerve on fire, pushing her toward the edge with cruel precision. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound, but Matteo saw the struggle, felt the way her body trembled beneath him.

“You’re fighting yourself,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Why?”

She clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. He smirked, his hands pressing her hips down as he resumed his torturous pace.

“Say it, Isla,” he coaxed, his voice dark silk. “Say you need me.”

She turned her head away, refusing.

He chuckled, the sound deep and knowing. “You’re so stubborn,” he murmured, dragging his lips back up to hers, capturing her mouth in a kiss that melted the last of her resistance. “But I like you this way. Fighting me. Giving in.”

She hated him for knowing her so well, for unraveling her piece by piece until all she could do was grip him tighter, pull him closer, meet him with equal hunger.

The night blurred into heat and desperation, an unspoken war fought in tangled sheets and whispered curses. It was reckless, inevitable, a fire neither of them had wanted to ignite but couldn’t put out.

Hours passed in a feverish haze, the tension between them spilling into every touch, every breathless whisper. Matteo wasrelentless, taking her apart with each touch, with each kiss, with each possessive grip that left no doubt—he wasn’t letting her go.

And Isla let him.

Because she didn’t want to be let go.

****

The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden light across the bed. Isla stirred, her body aching, her skin still humming from the night before. She blinked, her heart clenching as she turned toward the other side of the bed.

Empty.

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