Page 25 of Crimson Reign

Even in the aftermath of violence, with dust in her hair and a bruise darkening on her cheek, she's beautiful in a way that cuts through all my defenses.

The sight of her—alive, unbroken, standing tall despite everything—makes my chest ache with emotions I've spent a lifetime avoiding.

"You really don't want to be around me right now, Elena," I warn her, voice low. "I'm not fit company for anyone, least of all you."

"You don't know that." She takes the glass from my hand, sets it down on the desk. "You don't know what I want or what I need."

Something in her voice makes my pulse quicken. "And what is it you need?"

Her eyes hold mine, unflinching. "The same thing you do." She steps closer, erasing the careful distance I've maintained since that kiss at the hospital. "A way to feel something besides fear and rage. A reminder that we're still alive."

I shake my head, even as every fiber of my being aches to pull her into my arms. "Elena, you said you needed time. After everything that happened tonight—"

"Time?" She laughs softly. "If there's one thing I've learned from being involved with the mafia, it's that time waits for no one." Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, directly over my thundering heart. "Tonight, I almost died. You almost died. We both nearly lost everything."

"That's exactly why we shouldn't—"

"It's exactly why we should." Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. "I'm tired of waiting for the right moment, Matteo. I'm tired of pretending I don't feel what I feel."

The last of my restraint crumbles as she rises on her toes, bringing her face closer to mine. "And what is it that you feel?" I ask, voice rough with wanting.

"Try me," she whispers against my lips, "and find out."

It's all the invitation I need. My hands find her waist, pulling her against me as my mouth claims hers.

This kiss is nothing like our first—it's deeper, hungrier, fueled by adrenaline and the desperate relief of survival.

She responds immediately, arms twining around my neck, body pressing closer, as if trying to eliminate any space between us.

I walk her backward until she meets the wall, pinning her there with my body as our kisses grow more urgent. My hands trace her curves, as if reassuring me she's fine, that she's here, that this is real.

"I thought I lost you tonight," I murmur against her skin as my lips trail down her neck. "When I couldn't find you after the explosion—"

"But you found me," she breathes, fingers tangling in my hair. "You always find me."

Her words unleash something primal in me, a possessive hunger that's been building since the moment I first saw her.

I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the desk, sweeping papers and books aside with one arm.

As I lay her down, a moment of clarity breaks through the haze of desire. I pause, searching her face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, needing to hear it, needing to know this isn't just shock or adrenaline talking.

Her answer is to pull me down to her, reclaiming my mouth with a ferocity that matches my own. "I've never been more sure of anything," she whispers against my lips. "I need this. I need you."

The last threads of my control snap at her words.

I release her and make my way to the chair behind the desk.

Taking a seat, I pat my lap and gesture her forward. “Come here.”

Elena's eyes widen and for a moment I think she’s going to back out, but she moves forward and plops her ass on my thighs.

I grip her thighs with my hands, my fingers brushing through the hem of her skirt. “Lift your fucking skirt.”

She shivers, her face heating as her mouth falls open, almost like she’s shocked. But then she’s biting that damn bottom lip again as her hand drops to the hem of her skirt.

She lifts it as my gaze slides down to where her soaked panties cling to every little detail of her wet, swollen pussy.

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