Page 65 of Savage Union
"I'm aware." I stand, needing distance from her and the confusion she creates in me. "We're done here for today. I'll arrange another meeting with Father Alessandro when you're prepared to take this seriously."
"I am taking it seriously." She rises as well, facing me directly. "You're forcing me to marry you. To share your name, your bed, your life. Forgive me if I'm trying to understand what that actually means."
"It means exactly what I've told you from the beginning." I move closer, unable to help myself. "You will be my wife. The Donna Rosso. Everything that entails."
"Including your bed?" She doesn't back down, even as the space between us narrows.
"Eventually." I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, allowing my fingers to linger against her cheek. "But not as payment for protection. Not as settlement of some imagined debt."
She swallows, her pulse visibly quickening at the base of her throat. "Then when?"
"When you want it as much as I do." The admission is dangerous, revealing more than I intended. "When there's no calculation behind it. No strategy. Just desire."
CHAPTER 20
Rina
I swallow,my pulse quickening at the base of my throat. "Then when?"
"When you want it as much as I do." His admission hangs in the air between us, revealing more than I think he intended. "When there's no calculation behind it. No strategy. Just desire."
His words send an unexpected heat through me. The intensity in his dark eyes, the barely restrained power in his body as he stands so close to me—it's intoxicating in a way I'm not prepared for. After everything that's happened today—the attack, watching him risk his life to save mine, the adrenaline still coursing through my system—my usual defenses feel paper-thin.
Before I can think better of it, I lean forward, closing the distance between us.
"What if I want it now?" The words emerge as barely more than a whisper.
His eyes darken, pupils dilating. For a moment, he's perfectly still, as if giving me a chance to retreat. When I don't, his control visibly fractures.
His mouth captures mine in a kiss that's nothing like our previous encounters—not a punishment or demonstration of power, but pure hunger. My body responds instantly, a rush of heat flooding through me as I press against him. His hand tangles in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss while the other slides down to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him.
I should stop this. We're in a church, for God's sake, in a priest's office. But rational thought feels distant, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through me. When his lips leave mine to trail down my neck, I can't contain the soft sound that escapes me.
"Vito," I breathe, not sure if I'm asking him to stop or continue.
He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes burning with an intensity that steals my breath. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough. "No games, Caterina. Just truth."
In this moment, there's only one truth I can offer. "I want this."
Something like triumph flashes in his eyes before he claims my mouth again, walking me backward until I feel the edge of the priest's desk behind me. He lifts me easily, setting me on its surface as his hands slide up my thighs, pushing the fabric of my dress higher.
“This is why I wanted you in a dress,” he mutters, mouth dragging over my thigh like it’s silk and sin rolled into one. He doesn’t just lift the hem—he pushes it up with reverence and rage, bunching the fabric around my waist like he’s unwrapping a gift he’s about to break.
He spreads my legs with two hands and settles in like he’s got all night.
His breath is hot. Heavy. So close I can feel it ghosting over the soaked lace between my thighs.
Then his tongue presses in.
There’s no hesitation. No teasing. He licks me through the fabric, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier, until the lace clings to me—wet and obscene. I gasp, my spine arching, but he just chuckles.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he growls, and then he tears the panties aside and dives in properly.
His tongue is relentless. Broad strokes, then sharp, precise flicks that zero in on the nerve endings like he knows me better than I know myself. He sucks my clit into his mouth and hums against it like he's savoring the flavor. The vibration shoots straight through me, and I nearly sob from the pressure.
“Don’t run from it,” he murmurs, voice muffled as he drags his tongue through every slick, messy inch. “Take it. I want you dripping down my chin.”
And I do.
